A Rich, Indoor Life

 

Hello Invisible Audience,

 

It feels like it’s been cold and cloudy for days. To make it worse, there’s this slight breeze that makes it that much colder, and the sky has been this solid, concrete gray for perhaps forever.

 

Yesterday I forced myself to go snowshoeing, and I didn’t enjoy it. The snow was loud and crunchy, and it was cold and gray, and I had convinced myself I should do it even though what I really wanted to be doing was reading a book.

 

There’s a reason I’m telling you this. It’s because I finally need to admit something out loud to you.

 

I no longer enjoy winter sports.

 

Half the issue is all the gear that goes into being outside. The snowpants—whose swishing sound when I walk scares my cats—the boots, the gloves, the coats. To live in the mountains here, it’s essential to have multiple coat options. I have a coat for 40-75 degree weather, and a coat for 30-40 degree weather, and a coat for 15 to 29 degree weather, and a coat that goes over my coat for below 15 degrees. SO MANY COATS.

 

If it’s sunny out, all I want to do is go for a walk. I don’t want to find my skis and sweat through my clothes trying to put all my stuff together. So often that’s what I do: I chuck the snowshoes in a pile, grab the boot chains if there’s ice on the road, and walk instead.

 

Or, better yet, I put on sweatpants, drive to the athletic club I belong to and sit reading in the hot tub until I’m ready to lap swim.

 

A couple years ago I asked a woman who has lived in my area for decades what she does in the winter to get outside.

 

“I live a rich indoor life,” she said.

 

Just like that. Like it was OK to not be outside when she didn’t want to be.

 

Mind blowing.

 

I love nature, Invisible Audience. A couple weeks ago, I couldn’t focus and was having issues sitting down to finish something I needed to get done. I went for a walk. It wasn’t even a long one, but it did the trick. I got back, sat down and powered through a couple hours of work that I’d been putting off for days. But what makes me feel better is just the simple act of walking: not skiing, not snowshoeing, not snowmobiling, just walking.

 

I live in a mountain town. People move here to be close to the skiing. And I just need to let that go. I need to let go of the idea that I am failing somehow because I’d rather be somewhere warm; that I’ve failed at living in this mountain town if I don’t want to do all the winter sports.

 

Not to mention that, even though I’m better, I still am not physically 100 percent. If I’m not careful, over-exercising will leave me flat on my back with no energy for days. So who knows how much that’s feeding into my dislike of some of the outdoor sports that are more taxing than a walk would be.

 

Does this sound simple to you? Because if it does, I’m envious of you, Invisible Audience. These are the ways that I beat myself up. These are the places that I am learning to catch myself before I go down a rabbit hole of self-flagellation.

 

Even catching it is new to me. Picking it up, turning it over, looking at it with curiosity, then tossing it over my shoulder when I realize it doesn’t have to apply to me.

 

Like this one. Like going snowshoeing when I’d rather be doing anything else.

 

Love and warm indoor kisses,

Morgan