January 2023. Each fall I watch the sunsets move further and further south. Across the full length of the Tobacco Roots, then to the northern Spanish Peaks. The orb that is our source of light and warmth sinks lower and lower in the sky.
On or about November 1st it hits. The building darkness and spasms of cold slow me down. It’s like, I’ve finally adapted to summer heat but now I am chilled to the bone. Seasonal Affective Disorder sets in. I feel more and more tired. I just want to lay down, cover up and wait for lengthening days and warmer temperatures.
But in Fall 2022 I decided I wasn’t going to let this happen. I planned to get out every day, no matter how cold. Absorb light, burn energy, lift my spirit.
It snowed. Shoveling to be done. Out in the cold, dressed warm, clearing the driveway and walkways around the house. Walking the streets in the fresh snow. Our stunning frozen world.
There were ski days. With fresh snow at Bridger, I’d drag myself out of bed before first light, be in line for first chair, ski as hard as I am capable through much of the daylight. Night still fell early, left me feeling drained. Two ski days in a row? Much less vigor when that second alarm went off.
When there was no fresh powder, I ran. I ran slow, I ran long. I ran day after day. I ran through snow and ice. I ran streets and mountains. Absorbed what sun rays were available. Froze my fingers, froze my toes. I thought, this has to liven me up as we head into mid-winter’s night. Run, shiver, hot shower, nap, and dragged as soon as the sun went down.
It got too cold. I headed into the gym to stay warm. Did PT, ran on a treadmill, ran on an indoor track. Looked outside at the frozen world. I liked the perspective, but I hate treadmills. Want to get the miles done. Push too hard. GPS ain’t worth a damn on the indoor track. So I count out laps. Wait, was that 7, maybe 12, no I think 34. Start over. I like the track, but the counting is stressful, inexact.
I put up Christmas lights on a rare warm day. Tromping through the snow decorating. Colorful designs in the darkness brightened the spirit but are no substitute for the sun.
Solstice time. In -30F weather, I got out shopping. I shopped for essentials, I shopped for presents. I was out and about day-after-day. My hybrid car wouldn’t warm up in that bitter cold. The heat worked okay, thankfully, but the engine chilled down fast when it switched into electric mode. My fingers froze inside thick gloves.
Our frozen world is beautiful. Snow filled tree boughs. Snow encrusted peaks. The wind scouring the highest peaks, flags of billowing snow. Short-lived natural wonders.
When it’s really cold, say -10F or lower, the air sparkles. It’s like every bit of moisture that remains in the air crystallizes and slowly floats to earth. A dusting of snow, crystal blue skies. We get to revel in a spectacle few get to see.
I did everything I could think of to energize this SAD body. I prepared for Christmas decorating, cooking, cleaning and baking. But each day, the sun still rose late, set early, hung low in the sky. By 5 pm I could hardly move. Darkness felt like a dementor. Life being sucked away. Each morning I’d rise, but nothing seemed to do the trick. Nothing was more than a temporary salve to a life draining away.
We wrapped and unwrapped. It snowed Christmas week. Powder turns on surprisingly uncrowded slopes. Same butt dragging sadness.
Finally, when it felt like the dementors were finishing me off, I awoke to lengthening days. Early January. California was getting all our snow, but that led to sunnier days. Sunnier-warmer-longer days. The lengthening days began to work their magic. Changes weren’t big, though sunset at 5 pm felt like a huge milestone, like a Patronus charm.
Maybe it was just the hope that accompanies a new year. Days slowly lengthen, we look toward spring. The weight of the old year is thrown off. Colder, greyer, snowier weather—and better skiing all lie ahead, but the hope that flows in with the new year, grows each day.
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