This Will Be My Song

This Will Be My Song

Every February, I find myself reflective and yearning for spring. We’re past the midpoint of February and soon the crocuses will push their tiny heads up out of the cold, partially frozen dirt. When they do, I’ll know that spring has come no matter what the calendar says.

But winter is not gone yet. We just – almost – got rid of the fourteen inches of snow the Groundhog’s day storm dumped on us. Today, I woke up to a mild, rainy morning… and yet another winter storm warning. This one’s only going to dump four inches of snow on us – but before it does it’s going to cover everything in ice. And when you add windows up to forty miles per hour to the mix, it’s not going to be fun.

We’ve been blessed with very mild and nearly snow-less winters these past three years, but now, with this pernicious winter dragging on, we’re paying for it. I guess if I hunkered down inside my house and never ventured out, it wouldn’t be so bad. It wouldn’t matter then if it rained or snowed or if it was minus ten degrees or a hundred.

But I’m getting older. Aren’t we all? And my cardiologist told me that my dedication to walking every day has kept me out of the hospital, slowed down the aging process, and helped me stay mentally alert.

I agree, even though I think my job keeps me mentally alert – helping people with their computers, writing newsletters, keeping up with Windows, writing tips and tricks, and learning more and more about my smartphone and tablet – I know walking has kept me healthier and out of the hospital. And maybe helped me beat the years a bit.

All this is to say that unless it’s pouring rain, I’ll be out there walking in the bitter cold, in the snow, in the wind, crunching through snowdrifts and trying hard not to fall — one dislocated and fractured shoulder is enough for me.

The last few days have seen moderating temperatures and shrinking snow coverage – and more places I can walk. But the storm coming today will bring back the challenges and walking in “Real-feel” temperatures in the single digits over a landscape littered with snowdrifts and ice, is not going to be fun – but it’s not going to stop me.

And the older I get, the hard it gets to fire myself up to bundle up and step outside into the frozen world. Sometimes, it takes me an hour or so of pondering and getting myself psyched, before I start putting on four layers of clothing, a winter coat, hat, winter walking boots, and gloves.

I’m no spring chicken and I know the day will come when I’ll no longer be able to keep up with my walking regimen. I suppose (I hope) it will come slowly. And I’ll gradually have to cut my daily miles down from four or five, to two or three, and then down to one. And someday maybe just around the block or maybe not at all.

And the older I get the more things hurt you know. My legs hurt sometimes, my feet hurt sometimes, and I carry on and try not to complain, because achiness aside, I’m lucky. I’ve been able to keep up with my daily walks in all kinds of weather. Last year, thanks to a mild winter, I missed only nine days of walking. That means I walked 346 days out of 365.

This year, with the winter throwing its frigid wicked arsenal at me, I’ve already missed five days – and the way it looks like now with the rain pouring, the temperatures falling, But I’m still going to try. If I can, I will.

And isn’t that how life should be? If I can – I will. I’m not going to let the passing of the years affect my will to thrive and I’ll keep on going until I can’t go on anymore.

This will be my song and my legacy. I hope I can inspire others to look at growing old with a wink and a smile. It’s not going to stop me. I’m going to keep on walking. I’m going to keep on working. I’m going to keep on keeping on as long as I can. I love the work I do. I love helping people. I love the feeling when I make a half-dead PC run like new. I love finding new tips to pass along. I love writing.

And most of the time I love my daily walks.

I will admit, I’m not looking forward to getting bundled up with layers of clothing and tromping four or five miles in miserable weather over slippery and snow-covered terrain. And winter can try but it can’t stop me.

It’s going to take a lot more than winter to beat me.