Friday, January 14, 2011
Stick of Butter
Why would anyone force themselves to get out daily, rain or shine, snow and ice, enthused or not, and hike in the mountains?
There's a bunch of reasons, the prevailing one: so I don't turn into a stick of butter.
We all have heard the adage, if you don't use it you lose it.
I don't want to loose any bone mass, any muscle mass, any will to survive.
If anything, I quest for more strength in all areas.
Fresh air is good for moods. Some people become seasonally depressed when there is less sunlight. Combat this syndrome, whether it's real or not, with a good hour jaunt in the woods. I firmly believe many people are diagnosed with syndromes they don't possess just to get them on medication. Fresh air and exercise is a cure worth trying.
I have my most profound thoughts while hiking. Why that is I couldn't tell you. My trail friend, Alexa, on the Pacific Crest Trail used to carry a little notebook with her. Suddenly, she'd stop, pull out the pocket notebook and scribble away.
I tried that. Once my brain saw the lined paper, all genius left me.
My solution is to mull the thoughts, and memorize key points.
As soon as I walk in the door, I recall and write down anything with true depth. Or, more likely, whatever I can remember.
Virgin snow is fun. A lot of that around here. I learn to track, reason out why some splots go just tree to tree, tire tracks backing into the neighbor's yard, rare human print.
If you ever wonder about this blog, maybe a temporary lull, perhaps I had a town day and all brain matter was used up surviving traffic, lines at Walmart, Thrift store bantering, and librarians.