But mostly I mean, don’t waste a single minute. I’ve become fiercely protective (like, really stingy) with my time since the girls were born. I seriously weigh and analyze every invitation, meeting, get-together, and those rare (very rare!) moments of free time.
I recently found myself with a whole day of free time, on Martin Luther King Day, when Jeff’s office and the girls’ daycare were open but I had a work holiday. I weighed my options. Should I keep the girls home for quality time? Should I send them off to daycare and tackle some of the house projects that can only be done sans kids? Should I treat myself to a massage or pedicure? Call a long-lost friend to meet for lunch?
How would I have used a day off in my pre-kids life? I meant that, what would I have done? Sadly and surprisingly, in just three short years I’ve completely forgotten what I would have done – although I’m confident it would have included a lot more leisurely time-wasting than my current life.
I thought hard about what is important to me – which was easy, since I mapped out the things most important to me at the beginning of the year as a way to keep me focused on the bigger “me” picture – and asked myself what I wished I could do more of in life.
Get outside.
There’s something about being outside that I love. Fresh air, quiet (or at least a different kind of noise), the beauty of nature.
I decided I would tackle a winter solo hike. It was both a combination of things I love (being outside, hiking) and things that scare me (hiking alone, winter hiking, going somewhere new solo).
Thanks to the suggestions of friends, I decided I would hike Wachusett Mountain, which is about an hour away. I didn’t know anything about the hike, other than the photos my friends had posted online from their hikes and that catchy jingle for the ski-side of the mountain.
I was excited about my adventure. And then I was scared. How prepared would I need to be? Flashlight? Poles? Crampons? The temperatures for forecasted for single-digits, and I’m definitely prone to a worst-case, what-if mindset. Plus, I’d be alone.
Do things that scare you, I tried to convince myself. This is a safe hike, I told myself. I’ve never heard of anyone needing to be rescued from Wachusett Mountain. Had I?
Despite the back-and-forth in my head, I suited up in wicking layers and my hiking boots that frigid Monday morning and made my way to the mountain. I chose what looked like a moderate path to the summit, long enough to make it worth the trip, but short enough to give the trail enough steepness to challenge me. I consulted the trail map again and stepped into the trees.
It was icy and cold. Really icy and really, really cold. Just a few hundred yards in, the trail pitched and headed directly to the summit. A thick layer of frosty white ice coated the trail. There’s no way I’ll make this up without crampons or poles, I thought. I had neither. I debated turning around, disappointed that my solo adventure may be coming to a very quick end.
I checked the trail map on my phone, and saw a perpendicular path that would connect with a longer, less-steep way to the summit. I decided to give it a try.
Navigating patches of ice, I made my way to the upward trail and climbed up, stepping cautiously on ascending rocks and keeping a close eye on trail markers on the trees. It was quiet. (And so, so cold. I’ve mentioned that, right?)
It took me a little less than an hour to get to the summit. It wasn’t a summit like the 4,000-footers Jeff and I had climbed in the New Hampshire White Mountains, where the payoff is big in terms of the view of the surrounding mountains and a silence only found atop those peaks.
Near the summit of Wachusett, hikers literally cross an auto-road (closed to traffic in the winter) and walk across a parking lot. The view is nice, not spectacular, looking down on the towns below. The whir of the nearby chairlift can be heard from the ski-side of the mountain. I would have liked to plop down on a rock at the edge and spend a few quiet-ish moments at the top, but the wind whipped at my face and the single-digit temps cut the visit short.
The descent was quick, except for a short pause as I navigated a tricky and particularly ice-covered rocky section that was clearly harder on the way down than the way up.
A helicopter circled above. I looked up, trying to see if it was a recreational helicopter or one from law enforcement or a news station. Was someone actually being rescued from Wachusett? Or, were they looking for a deranged killer who was hiding in the woods? (Told you I have worst-case, what-if tendencies.)
I laughed my own wandering mind and refocused on the trail ahead of me. I made it back to the trail I originally planned to take to the top – the one caked in thick ice that had me contemplating scraping my winter hike adventure.
I’m sure glad I’d pushed on. It was great to get outside, to have some solo time and to be reminded of some of life's important lessons.
Sometimes there is a different way to the same destination. Sometimes it’s best to adjust your plans. And sometimes – most times – it’s good to do things that scare you a bit.
