The Challenges of Winter Walking

Ever since Thanksgiving, we have had bone-chillingly cold and snowy days more typical of January than of early December (technically still autumn). But have I wimped out and started taking the car to work at Case and CSA? Oh, nooooo. I am absolutely determined to keep walking 5 days a week all winter no matter how disgusting or forbidding the weather. I've decided I can walk in anything as long as I'm dressed for it.

The things I hate most about winter weather (besides it being the longest season of the year here) are as follows:

1. Sidewalks and roads with standing nasty water/slush due to poor drainage, causing me to get splashed by clueless motorists and/or coming to the realization that my boots aren't as waterproof as I thought

2. My face gets freezing numb, inspiring colorful language whan a particularly brutal blast of wind assaults me. This also causes me to involutarily hunch and cringe against the cold, therefore causing a bad-posture-induced backache.

3. Constant runny nose from the cold, or worse, nostril-cicles

4. Hat hair

My solutions to the above gripes:

1. 2 years ago I splurged and got a huge, calf-length down parka that is as bulky as a winter sleeping bag, but it's a lovely color, keeps me warm and provides a layer of protection from car splashes. Personally, I don't get the concept of short down parkas. I mean, if the wind chill's 15 below, aren't your legs and butt gonna get cold, too?

2. Last week I ordered this face mask online. Genius--it covers your nose to your neck without covering your whole head, therefore keeping your hair from being more of a disaster than it already is from your parka's hood. Sadly, the only solutions to hat hair are 1. Don't cover your head and endure the agonizing cold or 2. Give up walking outside.

This past week had wind chills in the single digits every single day. At least 3 people at work expressed disbelief that I was still walking, but your intrepid heroine was ready for it, slogging through unplowed sidewalks feeling fairy warm and comfortable, head held high. I had my mighty parka, with hood drawn tight, face mask, sunglasses against the blinding glare (it was sunny with a lot of snow on the ground), and laced-up hiking boots.

I noticed something interesting, though. Usually other pedestrians and I say hello as we pass each other, but now everybody avoided making eye contact with me, and some even looked a little freaked out as none of my actual face was visible under all the protective gear. When I got home and looked in the mirror, I could kind of see why:


I look like some sort of bloated, deranged insect. I have clearly reached the stage in life where function beats out form.