A Change of Terrain

Dearest Rachel –

So yesterday saw me and Lars meeting for our usual walk in the woods. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary, apart from the exchanging of Christmas presents that is part of the current season (I was rather pleased about finding something for him, as it was something that’s always been made in small quantities – assuming it’s being made at all at the moment) and our annual venture to one of the better Greek restaurants in his neck of the woods. To a certain extent, there was nothing unusual about this walk, especially in comparison to last week’s wanderings through the Fashion Outlet Mall that happens some four or five times a year when no day in a given week contains anything approximating clement weather.

At the same time, the fact that the outside air was mild and calm and the sky bright and sunny made no difference to the fact that there was snow on the ground, and plenty of it. We’d actually waded through the drifts two weeks ago, after it had just fallen and was soft and powdery; it was a struggle to get through at the time. Just the fact that I’m describing it as ‘wading’ should give you a rough idea of what it was like; we actually cut that particular walk short, as much because of the difficulty in making progress through it as the cold and still-falling snow we were dealing with at the time.

This time around, however, we weren’t battling any falling snow or blowing wind, so we covered the entire length of our usual route, going all the way up to Willow Road, some four miles north of the forest preserve entrance we park our cars at. And on a day in any other season, when the path is dry and clear beneath our feet, that isn’t all that much of a problem for us; we’re out and back in a little more than three hours or so.

But this time around, the path was only visible insofar as there were no trees where we expected to be walking. The snow that we struggled through two weeks ago was still there; only at this point, most of it had frozen in place. The powder we waded through had been essentially replaced by ice. While this offered some advantage, in that we didn’t need to worry about sinking into it and having to extricate our feet with every step, it forced us to deal with a change of terrain that made the walk challenging in a very different way. The footprints (possibly even including ours from way back then) had hardened into a rugged mass that forced one to keep looking at the ground in order to find sufficient flat surface to step onto.

But even the flat surfaces weren’t exactly safe. The warm weather and bright sunlight were working their effects on the snow, melting the top layer as we made our way through the forest preserve. So if we tried to walk on the flat areas, we ran the risk of slipping, and if we stepped on other people’s footprints, we found ourselves dealing with an irregular surface that made it difficult to keep our footing. If it weren’t for our hiking sticks, which were sharp enough to dig into the solidified snow strata, we would have been hard-pressed to keep our balance.

As it was, by the time we were making our way back through the last couple of miles, both of us were sore and weary. Lars mentioned something about his hip as we were crossing over the Lake Street bridge, and my left ankle was starting to feel pretty twisted around, which forced my left hip to compensate for it. Admittedly, I hadn’t thought about my hip until Lars mentioned about his, but with the ankle leading to it, I couldn’t help but agree with him about suffering a bit from the exercise.

Although he did put a bright face on it by pointing out that we were getting an extra amount of exercise in thanks to having to fight our way through the unusual terrain, those last few miles got to both of us. The only things that kept us going were the fact that a.) we had no other choice but to keep going in order to get back to our cars, and b.) we were, by that time, most of the way back in any event.

It should come as no surprise to you, then, that we lingered much longer over our lunch than we usually do. True, some of that had to do with the fact that, it being our Christmas walk, we went to a nicer place than usual, with more relaxed service (and a few extra courses, including dessert and – in his case, since I saw no point in it after dusk – coffee), but I dare say that the extra layer of exhaustion kept either of us from hurrying the meal along. No sense in rushing to get up and go when one can barely stand after all that.

Although… once Lars and I parted ways, acknowledging that we wouldn’t be doing this until next year (although we would see each other on Sunday, when the extended family assembles for the annual holiday get-together), I still had a bit of shopping to do that I’d warned Daniel about, so he wouldn’t concern himself overmuch about my continued absence, even as the area grew as dark as night even before five (although the trip home still felt a lot like rush hour, to be honest). So I put in that many more steps on an already wounded ankle – although at least the stores deserve credit for their flat, non-slip surfaces.

But by this morning, I didn’t have enough in me to put in my usual five miles at the gym. I did push around a few weights, but after covering about three miles, and burning just about a thousand calories, I felt like I’d done enough, and called it a day. At least I felt good enough to walk there and back, so that’s something, I suppose…

But for now, I think I’m going to make myself a little more comfortable for the rest of the day. If you please, honey, I’d appreciate it if you could keep an eye on me going forward, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.