The Time Winter Took Me to Class
It’s no secret that I suck at winter. Last year I made a vested effort for a couple of days to be better at this blustery season. After all, when you live in a place where winter lasts eight months, whining about the cold gets old long before the icicles thaw. Just ask my husband.
This year, I started winter with the same resolve, declaring I’d get out to play in the snow more and enjoy all the fun that the season offers adults and children alike. And I did. I got on skis for the first time in a few years and came home with glowing smile and cheeks and burning quads and lungs.
Having hit my groove, I was getting workouts in left and right, finding an appreciation for the winter wonderland around me, and getting my layering system down for the trips to and from the pool.
But then winter, in all her wisdom, whispered in my ear. Actually, it was a less subtle cue; it was more like two snowballs to the face that brought me back to reality.
That fateful day, I left the house bundled appropriately for the 10-degree bite outside and hit the gym. At the conclusion of my strength-training session, I re-donned my sweatshirt, sweatpants (over my workout pants), snow boots, vest, parka, hat, and gloves and drove home with the heat on, motivated. I exchanged my wimpy sets/reps/weight spreadsheet for my pool bag, and headed back into winter’s arms.
Following an unimpressive yet exhausting workout in the chilly waters of the indoor pool and a quick reward in the hot tub, I returned home. As I congratulated myself on hitting my workouts and eating a healthy recovery meal instead of staying home and eating bacon and eggs in front of the electric air vent, I reached to fill a water bottle.
Nothing.
Frozen pipes.
Remember that line of my song? “Hours on the trainer while daydreaming of pork, Five p.m. runs on the ice and in the dark, Perpetual fear that that one pipe will freeze … these are a few real-life wintery things.” Yup, that one pipe froze in the time I did two wimpy workouts instead of staying home and eating bacon and eggs in front of the electric air vent. After thawing it, I turned the hair dryer on my own head, contemplating the lesson this experience held.
A mere six hours later, as I related this teaching moment to my husband, we headed out the door for a night on the town, complete with this well-earned bacon burger.
Hours later, as we covered the last block en route to our front door, it occurred to us that, despite our conversation in the very moment we left the house, we hadn’t remembered to leave the water running to prevent another freeze.
First through the door, I dashed to the faucet to get a diagnosis. The rush of water was a delightful surprise, and I stared at it dumbfounded.
Slowly, the dots began to connect. Workouts … no bacon … frozen pipe … bacon burger … colder night … no plumbing problems … hmmmm …
I haven’t worked out since.
I can’t believe you made it all the way to the end! I’d like to thank you for reading and invite you to recommend anything you like, follow this blog, and send bacon sponsor leads (or just packages of bacon) my way.
