You see, I have the week as a break, which means I have the week off but I don't get paid for it (common public misconception about teachers -- we do NOT get paid for snow days or for breaks), and the weather is being its usual crazy self. If a person wants to snowshoe during break, apparently it must be planned according to the weather, which means I have about a two-hour window of opportunity.
I start by getting up early to shovel the four inches of ice-topped snow that crusts the driveway. This is followed by fifteen minutes of de-icing and scraping my son's car so he can get to work. (We even have to crack the ice around the gas tank cover so he can stop at the gas station on his way out.) Once he is safely out of the driveway and down the black-ice covered street, I head back inside to get comfy.
After studying the radar maps, it is obvious that by noontime, the temperatures will be warm, and by two o'clock, the monsoons will arrive. Quickly and efficiently, I grab my snowshoes and poles. I re-throw my semi-snow-covered-from-shoveling sweatpants over the yoga pants I wore to bed, throw a sports bra on under my t-shirt, add an extra layer of socks, pull on my snow boots, and test out my new black and pink gaiters.
My car is much quicker to clean off than my son's since mine has a thick layer of snow separating the windshield from the inch of ice. Within moments, I am ready to go and bomb my way through the remaining unshoveled snow. I drive by the open fields of the high school and by some of the town's woodsy trails but decide on the scenic nearby cemetery, instead. I can snowshoe close to the stone wall by the road if I need help, but I also won't be showing off my lack of skills to everyone passing by.
The beauty of snowshoeing in the cemetery, in addition to being nearby yet faraway from civilization, is that I can park, put on my snowshoes at the car, and instantly be in the snow. Also, it's very scenic and somewhat hilly, so I can get a decent workout while also stopping to take pictures without the pressure of trying to keep up or get out of the way of others more adept at snowshoeing.
I make my way down toward the granite chapel with the Tiffany windows but cannot see it clearly through the fog. I circle a few trees then notice several huge branches are down. This is when I start to realize what an idiot I am and how glad I am that I didn't decide to go through a woodsy trails and how I probably should've opted for the open school fields. By now, the heat of the day is melting all of the ice-lined tree limbs, and it sounds like Niagara as water and puffs of snow pelt the ground around me.
Just last week, two people, a child and an adult, were killed in two separate and unrelated tree limb incidents following the storms that brought in the deep freeze. How could I be so stupid to be out here by myself knowing that the trees are already laden with ice and the weather changes might affect them! Dumb, dumb, dumb. I snowshoe for open territory and continue about my business for another half hour, carefully and quickly "running" when I have to pass under the trees. Between the exercise and the fear, I up my cardio to optimal levels.
