Its been a long dark season for me. So cold outside, with an icy rain and chilly windows, and a house cat that returns from the yard soaked from nose to tail... he does double duty in this way as household barometer, in addition to his role as apex predator. A rowdy little tabby, now more that a year old and gaining a girth befitting my enforcer over neighborhood rodenture. I love the little bastard.
Its cold outside as I say and that combined with the dim, always has its way with my moods. There has been much sadness in me this winter... Much remorse... Time for missing the departed. Time for the lighting of candles... Candles enough to drive off a darkness both temporal and spiritual. Candles enough also to act as a beacon for any remnant of the one lost to disease last year. I don't know that I believe in an afterlife, but should such things occur... should a loved one come to call, in answer the sorrows of a survivor, these candles bid welcome. Like setting a place at the table should a friend drop in, I've lit candles in her memory as a way of saying "you are sorely missed."
But as cold and as damp as it is, this remains my favorite part of winter. Still cold and with worse weather yet to come, it is however the time winter must also begin returning that with was carted away by fall. You see, I live and die by the equinox. Live and die by the departure and eventual return of the sun. And we have arrived now safely past the shortest day of the year. Now with several weeks since that day, you can, if you pay attention, feel the lengthening days arrival. A few seconds each to begin... turning lately to minutes, and quite soon, difficult to keep track of at all. Like the motions of a great clock, I feel the suns return now a bit more with each passing day... and with that return, comes also hope. Soon enough the crocus will push through the mud outside, followed then by the daffodils, and with each passing week, more and more life will rise to greet the suns return. Spring... Nowhere near just yet. But on its way, and for me, there lies the difference. Knowing that its time. Time to facilitate my own return. Time to rise from my darkness... time to begin my own rebirth.
Exercise... Like starting your car after months sitting idle. You begin and the body responds, but not without a bit of doing. Anything long sleeping does not enjoy a call to renewed labor. And so the body responds, but grudgingly and only after arduous complaint. This is the beginning. Now is the time for reading about yoga, searching videos about an improved swimming technique, repairing a bicycle and dusting off forgotten equipment. And so it begins. With crunches... lots and lots of crunches. And push ups... But old man push ups to start. I could do them from the floor with a gun to me head, but time and experience has taught me about gentle goals to start. Pulled muscles and ligaments tend to get in the way of seasonal aspirations. And so instead of push ups from the floor as I did in my youth, I do them on incline from my desk at 45 degree's. Soon enough we will move on to more difficult efforts. But its smart to answer the challenges of aging with patience and planning.
My knee's... Ow. My knee's today feel like weathered old hinges someones taken a hammer to in an effort to restore their sticky movement after seasons of rain... If we were talking about actual hinges in this condition, I'd toss these in favor of something fresh. As that's not an option however, I allow for the extra squeal they make to begin with and pretend not to notice. They will find an equilibrium in time, but only after much complaint. I've resumed cycling again with 9 miles on Thursday and 13 more Sunday... in the rain and with temperatures in the low 30's. Pain. there's a lot of it... not just in my back though and not simply in my legs... but my lungs. The fire in my lungs... the burning as I search for something discarded to years of smoking... Three packs a day before quitting 2 1/2 years ago. As a younger man I could quit and the lungs would rebound in a matter of months. Not so now. Last year I still had a persistent cough. Not chronic, but it lingered much longer than in the old days. But six months of intensive abuse last year made the difference, so now I feel much better prepared for the year to come than I did 12 months ago. Its good to feel both older and in better shape. So... bring me the fire. I love the challenge. I love the work and the strain and the sweat. I love the feel of broken tissue healing. Love the soreness that means I'll be a bit stronger next week than last. I love climbing that mountain again. I love it all. But god its a bitch getting started. More sniveling is sure to follow.
Its cold outside as I say and that combined with the dim, always has its way with my moods. There has been much sadness in me this winter... Much remorse... Time for missing the departed. Time for the lighting of candles... Candles enough to drive off a darkness both temporal and spiritual. Candles enough also to act as a beacon for any remnant of the one lost to disease last year. I don't know that I believe in an afterlife, but should such things occur... should a loved one come to call, in answer the sorrows of a survivor, these candles bid welcome. Like setting a place at the table should a friend drop in, I've lit candles in her memory as a way of saying "you are sorely missed."
But as cold and as damp as it is, this remains my favorite part of winter. Still cold and with worse weather yet to come, it is however the time winter must also begin returning that with was carted away by fall. You see, I live and die by the equinox. Live and die by the departure and eventual return of the sun. And we have arrived now safely past the shortest day of the year. Now with several weeks since that day, you can, if you pay attention, feel the lengthening days arrival. A few seconds each to begin... turning lately to minutes, and quite soon, difficult to keep track of at all. Like the motions of a great clock, I feel the suns return now a bit more with each passing day... and with that return, comes also hope. Soon enough the crocus will push through the mud outside, followed then by the daffodils, and with each passing week, more and more life will rise to greet the suns return. Spring... Nowhere near just yet. But on its way, and for me, there lies the difference. Knowing that its time. Time to facilitate my own return. Time to rise from my darkness... time to begin my own rebirth.
Exercise... Like starting your car after months sitting idle. You begin and the body responds, but not without a bit of doing. Anything long sleeping does not enjoy a call to renewed labor. And so the body responds, but grudgingly and only after arduous complaint. This is the beginning. Now is the time for reading about yoga, searching videos about an improved swimming technique, repairing a bicycle and dusting off forgotten equipment. And so it begins. With crunches... lots and lots of crunches. And push ups... But old man push ups to start. I could do them from the floor with a gun to me head, but time and experience has taught me about gentle goals to start. Pulled muscles and ligaments tend to get in the way of seasonal aspirations. And so instead of push ups from the floor as I did in my youth, I do them on incline from my desk at 45 degree's. Soon enough we will move on to more difficult efforts. But its smart to answer the challenges of aging with patience and planning.
My knee's... Ow. My knee's today feel like weathered old hinges someones taken a hammer to in an effort to restore their sticky movement after seasons of rain... If we were talking about actual hinges in this condition, I'd toss these in favor of something fresh. As that's not an option however, I allow for the extra squeal they make to begin with and pretend not to notice. They will find an equilibrium in time, but only after much complaint. I've resumed cycling again with 9 miles on Thursday and 13 more Sunday... in the rain and with temperatures in the low 30's. Pain. there's a lot of it... not just in my back though and not simply in my legs... but my lungs. The fire in my lungs... the burning as I search for something discarded to years of smoking... Three packs a day before quitting 2 1/2 years ago. As a younger man I could quit and the lungs would rebound in a matter of months. Not so now. Last year I still had a persistent cough. Not chronic, but it lingered much longer than in the old days. But six months of intensive abuse last year made the difference, so now I feel much better prepared for the year to come than I did 12 months ago. Its good to feel both older and in better shape. So... bring me the fire. I love the challenge. I love the work and the strain and the sweat. I love the feel of broken tissue healing. Love the soreness that means I'll be a bit stronger next week than last. I love climbing that mountain again. I love it all. But god its a bitch getting started. More sniveling is sure to follow.
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