Since I traded bikes for hiking shoes, I have mentally survived the winter months way better than before. Along with losing the anxiety of smashing my blood-thinned body on the ice (again), proper equipment—much of it left over my from cycling days—for the long winter has helped a ton; proper jacket, base layers, GORE-TEX shoes, gaiters, trekking poles, micro spikes, and snowshoes, if necessary, have all made venturing out into the snow and ice more tolerable and downright fun at times.

Having said that, there is always at least one point each winter that Jack Frost grabs me by the Heinz Baked Beans, throws me to the ground, steps on my neck, and mentally breaks me. Usually, this comes around late February or March, when my attention has turned to warmer days and sunshine ahead, only to be thwarted by another snow or ice storm.

However, there are times, such as the past two weeks, when my breaking point comes early. Three days of freezing rain, high winds, downed trees, packed ice on the trails, a lack of wildlife to photograph, the guilt of too much holiday food and drink, a lack of a daily routine, and the post-holiday letdown of real life have conspired to make me want to climb back into The Bed of Torment for more hours of restless sleep and staring at the ceiling.

But that’s not how I roll these days, and after pausing, taking a moment to think and mentally loathe the darkness and relentless ice of recent weeks, I realized that I have choices. As some long-dead Roman said, “We don’t control when things get hard, but we always control how we respond.”

I can go back to bed, which we all know is the WRONG choice. I can gear up and head out into the ice and snow, which has a 50/50 shot of being great or sucking ass. OR I can find an alternative solution to get me mentally and physically back on track. So today, despite my lust for the return of my normal outdoor routine, I decided to head back down to the Not So Stankment for another 3 miles of intervals on the treadmill.

For me, nothing beats the mental rub and a tug that comes from time in the woods, but a close second is the post-workout rush of endorphins my tiny brain gets from higher intensity activities. It’s like mainlining 1500mg of Lexapro and washing it down with a half bottle of Jack (before vomiting all over the room and shitting my pants). Or something like that, I dunno.

More than anything, I was craving to get a sweat on, something I knew would not happen this morning after getting another inch or two of snow on the lumpy ice that has been through roughly 10 freeze/thaw cycles since Christmas.

And it worked. I got my three miles of intervals in, I felt better than my previous two treadmill workouts, extended the length of each interval, and left my flirtation with anger, self-loathing, body dysmorphia, and a desire to go back to bed for a SAD nap in a puddle of sweat on the belt of the treadmill.

Again, I don’t run, but each time I see some progress, I am hopeful that by spring I am ready to get back in the woods for some actual running along with my lumbering and photo-creeping.

I may find myself looking for mental rub/tugs options again tomorrow, because, along with the snow and ice we already had, and the 2 or 3 inches of snow we received overnight, there is a 90% chance of rain, sleet, and ice throughout the day on Tuesday. Remember when we used to get snow? Those were the days.

Later.