A Summary: 90 Days of Walking In All Weathers

I did it!! Today was the final day in my 90 day challenge to walk every day, in all weathers.  I have covered hills, flatland, sandy beaches, rocky beaches, parks, lochs, cities, towns, shops, and ruins.  I've walked in snow, ice, rain, sleet, blizzards, slush, wind, gale force winds, sunshine, and under dull grey skies.  Early morning, late at night.  By myself, with a friend, with my sister, with a group.  Some only ten minutes or so, others four or five hours long.  Some days I barely made it outside and back for a short walk, others I clambered up hill and dale and stood proudly atop a mountain.  Sometimes I attempted a mountain or hill and couldn't make it to the top.  I've been too cold, too warm, and many times just right.  My wellies have never let me down, and neither has my trusty iphone.  There were a few days I just couldn't go out - being sick or unwell or worried I'd get pneumonia again - but those were very few, and were the exceptions that proved the rule.

If I've learned anything these 90 days, it's this:

1.  You truly can walk in any kind of weather. It's a matter of having the right clothes, and being bound and determined not to let the weather win.

2.  It's not about hitting a certain target or length or a certain weight, even.  It's about consistency.

3.  The small things matter.  The shortest of walks were sometimes all that kept me going - because at least I was doing something.  Skipping a day here or a day there would have ended up in not achieving at all.

4.  My favourite walk of the entire 90 days was the day I walked Helensburgh in driving, fierce, cold, pounding, freezing rain.  The sea was angry and hurling itself at the sea wall and at me, and I was almost the only person out walking.  That day I truly fought the elements, and I still made it.

5.  You don't have to have a reason for walking (a dog, preparing for a marathon, a destination).  It truly is its own reward.

6.  Scotland is the most beautiful country on earth.  And it is worth every second of any horrible weather I've ever had to go through.

I'm taking a friend's very good suggestions and rewarding myself for the achievement with fuzzy socks, a hot stone massage at a beauty clinic in Glasgow (thanks to a 70% discount through LivingSocial), and some new camera equipment.  (Not sure of what yet, will keep you posted.)

I'll also be starting a new 90 day challenge after a 5-day breather.  

May you all be, not impressed, but inspired to walk your own way.

Walk on!

(P.S. I enjoyed this so much I started a new walking blog at www.teainallweathers.blogspot.com.  Join me there for a new kind of tea every day!)

Day 90: The Summit

Today was the last day of my 90 day challenge, so I felt that just a little walk around the block wasn't good enough to celebrate the final stride.  So, Pin and I set off for a walk near Callander, which appeared to have everything I wanted:  a new walk, one I'd never taken before; woods and streams as well as hills and views; varied countryside; greenery; and most of all is within my beloved Scotland!

We had all of this and more.  The walk is called Callander Crag, and winds its way up hill...and up hill, and up hill, and up hill....before it rises to a summit and then goes down dale as well.  I loved every minute of it, even the ones where I was struggling to climb the stone steps to the final summit, or the bit at the end where we stopped at a bench and I didn't want to get up again.  I know I live in Scotland, but I've rarely seen woods so green.  Everything was green, and so many different varieties of it!  Spring green, mossy green, pine green, watercress green, emerald green, and hundreds of other versions I never had imagined before.  Every tree was covered with moss, or little tiny ferns. 

It had rained all morning, so a local told us, and yet we managed to arrive when the rain was off and yet there were still water droplets hanging off every (mossy green) branch.  Every once in a while the sun would break out and shine through the trees, lighting up the covered green and also the burnished copper colour of the fallen leaves.  We passed only two people, and the rest of the two hour walk we had all to ourselves.  It was so quiet, and yet filled with the sounds that only the woods can make.  We saw deer, and a little frog (Pin saw several frogs), and a tree that looked either like an elephant or an octopus, a hawk, and countless other birds that we could hear even if we couldn't see them. 

We climbed all the way up to the Queen's Jubilee Summit, and stood proudly looking out over the vista of Callander, and then beyond to Stirling and, supposably, the Wallace Monument (although with the mist and the clouds we weren't really sure what direction we should be looking in order to find it).  Off to our right we could see Loch Venacher, and Ben Ledi and Ben Lomond.  Well, perhaps we couldn't quite see that far, but we like to think we could. 

It was definitely a proud moment for me.  After being diagnosed with chronic fatigue/M.E. about seven years ago, my ability to exercise as I used to has seen a significant change.  But if I've learned anything it's that it is not about competing with what others can do, or (what is much more likely for me) to compete with myself, the self that I used to be, the running I used to do, the energy I used to have.  I've learned that there is great accomplishment in achieving something that seems small, but changes my whole perspective on what I can and can't do in my life.  It's not about setting my mind to anything and achieving it; I'm not so foolish as that.  Rather, it's about setting goals and challenges that are just that slight bit harder, that bit extra beyond what I'm currently doing, and just pressing on and pressing on and taking joy in the journey, not just at the summit at the top. 

We did some celebrating at the top, taking photos, and me sounding my barbaric 'YAWP!' over the rooftops of the world.  (See 'Dead Poet's Society', and the writings of Walt Whitman.)  Pin hugged the jubilee cairn in her joy.  "O frabjous day! Calloo!  Callay! She chortled in her joy."  (roughly stolen from The Jabberwocky poem) 

Then it was a winding, slippery slope all the way down, in some ways more difficult than the way up.  Pin and I both nearly fell two or three times, which gave Pin great glee, at least.   By the time we reached the last little uphill slope towards the car park, I felt like I couldn't go another step - but that's the beauty of what I've learned in 90 days. You can always make it to the final step, whatever that is.

We celebrated with steak pie and chips at the Tudor for dinner, and now it's once again home for jammies and hot tea and the comfort of knowing that we didn't let the day - or the weather - prevent us.  We walked on.

Walk on!

Walk length:  2 hours

Day 89: Is Walking Its Own Reward?

Only two days left of my 90 day challenge!  It's so exciting!!  I'm really looking forward to actually completing this challenge - it really does help in accomplishing other goals in my life, knowing that I have pressed on through snow and blizzards and wind and rain and cold and a lot more in order to achieve this.

Just before I finish, though, I'm taking suggestions as to what reward (if any) I should give myself once I hit the 90 day mark!  Any thoughts are welcome, although the better you know me the more apt your reward suggestions will probably be...!

Today's walk was, typically, one I didn't really feel like taking.  The house is warm.  It wasn't raining, but it was cold, and I was quite tired simply because it's a Monday.  The sky darkened to a cobalt blue, almost black, as we walked on...I was amazed by the beauty of the little moon sliver, but when I tried to capture it with my iphone, it appeared as a small white dot between two brilliant yellow street lights.  Funny how those same street lights would be as nothing if they got anywhere near that incredible light source, the moon.  My sister and I intended a half hour walk but barely made it...sometimes I wonder what in the world good this challenge has done me if I'm worn out within the first 10 minutes, but that kind of thinking has only gotten me less exercise and less energy and less happiness, so I'm going to press on regardless.
 
I'm also planning on continuing with another 90 day challenge once this one is done...more to come tomorrow!

Walk length:  20 minutes

Day 87: A March In March

This afternoon I walked out to visit one of the housebound members of our church.  On my way there, I heard what seemed like a lot of shouting and hollering, like a group of guys who just got out of the pub and were celebrating a game.  As I got closer, though, it was confusing as to what kind of march this was.  There was a huge crowd of them, spilling out into the street, and just as I came up near it a policeman went running past at top speed.  I saw six or seven policemen restraining the men, trying to herd them into a group so that all the cars piling up on the road (onto which the group had spilled out) could carry on.  The odd thing was, they didn't seem angry, but they seemed like they could become angry soon if things went on.  They were singing songs and chanting loudly, but none of them were wearing football colours.  It was almost like an impromptu Orange march, but it's only the 5th of March!  Very odd. 

I went in to visit Georgi and told her all about it, and she laughed.  "Daft!" she said, pointing to her temple and repeating this several times.  "They're daft!"  After I smiled and nodded she added, "stupid!" just in case I wasn't quite sure, which  made me laugh.  Finally she added "Daft in the heed!" so I think I got the idea!  After we had talked for a while, the group of men had clearly made their way in a circle round the town, because out Georgi's other window you could see them marching past, herded carefully by several policemen.  I pointed them out and the two of us laughed, and she insisted again that they were indeed daft.

I had brought flowers for her - three carnations that were so beautiful I just had to share them!  She loved them - inhaled their fragrance, felt the petals, and set them right next to her so she could enjoy them.  We talked about what I was up to and what was happening in the church, and how  my sister is visiting, and how we are going to Amsterdam at the end of the month.  "I'm going to come with you!" she said, and then sighed. "I wish I could go," she added.  It really reminded me that as much as I'm used to her being an older woman who can't really get out of her chair, she was once a young woman who loved to travel and go to the church and be involved in all different things outside.  I told her about the new building we had for the church in Glasgow and she said she wished she could go to that too - that she and her sister "used to go to all those things".  It made me very thankful for my sister who is here now, with whom I can go to all those things.  We talked about heaven, and eternity, and Christ dying and being raised from the dead, and how His resurrection makes it possible for us to have a resurrection, too, and one day a new body that never gets tired or old.  Now that's beautiful.

Afterwards Pin and I walked around Bothwell Castle and noticed many little indicators of a coming spring! It's exciting!

Walk length:  40 minutes

Day 86: A Strange Sort Of Fogginess

Tonight I didn't make it out for my walk until around 11pm.  I had been going all day with plenty on, but when I had been out driving around, I noticed that the whole town looked a bit...dusty.  Like someone had taken a dry paint brush with some white or grey on it and brushed it over the houses, the sky, the buildings, and made everything else.  It wasn't fog, because fog you can see, and it floats around like little wisps of cloud.  It wasn't mist, because mist leaves water droplets all over the windscreen of the car, your hat, your hair, even your eyelashes.  It was almost like smog, actually.  I haven't seen smog in years.  I was born in California, and any time I go back to Los Angeles I'm amazed by smog - I'm not sure where that word comes from, but 'smut' or 'smoke' and 'fog' maybe go together there.  It's just kind of a dirtiness all over everything.  At any rate, I wondered at it a bit.

When I finally went out for my walk late at night, just round the nearby area, it had become more like an actual fog, because it made stars out of the street lights and covered things a bit more.  I had a few things on my mind so it was a walk in which I thought everything out and was pretty surprised to find myself back at the flat within 10 or 15 minutes...it seemed as though a few seconds only had gone by. 

Walk length:  10 minutes

Day 85: Strathclyde Park

Tonight Pin and I took a drive over to Strathclyde Park, where we walked round about half of the loch.  We got there just after 5, and it was pleasant to watch the light slowly, so slowly fading.  When we got there the light was lifting the colours of the trees on the far side, and a very tiny mini-sunset was happening to our left.  I pointed it out to Pin, who is used to the entire sky being lit up and on fire for a typical Arizona sunset, so she laughed a little at our small cloud that shone red and pink and gold.  But we both enjoyed the stillness of the water, the swans coming over to greet us and ask for food, the little duck that went skimming past all the swans as though to prove his speed and worth.  (You could almost hear him squealing with glee as he went zooming past.) 

It was cold - colder than we realised, and I wondered that I hadn't brought a hat.  I think the fact that the sun is actually out, and the sky is clear, makes me forget that it is still March in Scotland.  I did have a warm coat with gloves in the pockets, so I did pretty well...but we passed a few people who didn't do quite so well, and were shivering in the early evening air. 

As we walked along, the light began to fade.  We stopped once, to stand and look out onto the loch, and I loved how the light faded from a dark blue to a lighter blue, then a cream colour, and a pinkish purple with a grey tinge...then past the trees it faded again on the surface of the water, so that if you weren't looking at the scene in a three-dimensional view (as in this photo here!), it was just fading from one to the other and back again, with a dark line in between.  It was beautiful.  The birds sailed majestically - and silently - across the sky, not even calling to each other as they went.  We passed a good number of other walkers, but we were fairly intent on our conversation and hardly noticed they were there. 

By the time we drove home, all this beautiful light had faded to darkness.  But tomorrow is another walking day!

Walk length: 45 minutes

Day 84: The Rebel Light

Tonight Pin and I took a quick dander over to Morrisons to get 'supplies'.  (ie, stuffs for chocolate chip cookie dough, ice cream, oh and a few boring things like broccoli and light bulbs.)  On the way I saw a house with a little welcome light that shone red, blue, yellow, and green.  I stopped because I've haven't seen one of those lately.  Most lights are just pale, retiring, "don't notice me" kind of lights that give a warm glow but ensure that your attention is directed entirely to the door, or the doorbell, or another aspect of the house.  This one, though small, shouts out for attention.  It's brightly coloured, cheerful, and even glows in a different way.  It's a rebel!  So, I snapped a photo of it, hoping that the house's inhabitants didn't come out scowling wondering why I was taking pictures of their house.  Little do they know that their rebel light is famous now!  All over the world!

In the spirit of this rebel fire I found a poem that seemed to speak directly to this small light.  Read on! Shine on, little light!  And all of you, walk on!

"The Rebel" - by Don Marquis

No doubt the ordered worlds speed on

  With purpose in their wings;

No doubt the ordered songs are sweet

  Each worthy angel sings;

And doubtless it is wise to heed

  The ordered words of Kings;

But how the heart leaps up to greet

  The headlong, rebel flight,

Whenas some reckless meteor

  Blazes across the night!

Some comet—Byron—Lucifer—

  Has dared to Be, and fight!

No doubt but it is safe to dwell

  Where ordered duties are;

No doubt the cherubs earn their wage

  Who wind each ticking star;

No doubt the system is quite right!—

  Sane, ordered, regular;

But how the rebel fires the soul

  Who dares the strong gods’ ire!

Each Byron!—Shelley!—Lucifer!—

  And all the outcast choir

That chant when some Prometheus

  Leaps up to steal Jove’s fire!

Day 83: Just Blue

Absolutely amazing.  28th of February, 83 days into my 90 day challenge which I started in the midst of a blizzarding snowstorm, and the sky is so blue you could fall into it.  Definitely the changeable blue which could turn into that snowstorm at any time (this is Scotland after all), but I just loved the way my window warms up the sunshine as it streams into my office, and landed on my arm and face as though I were somewhere tropical for a moment or two.  I had to get out in it (partly for the beautiful blue sky and partly because of my blog!), so off I went to the post office and various errands. 

Today I noticed a few different smells more than sights - on the way to the post office I distinctly smelled fish and chips (unsurprisingly), but as I passed the two I noticed they definitely had vinegar on them, as well.  It was very strong.  After I came out of the post office (about six days later) there was the distinct tang of a wood fire on the air. I stood and smelled it, being immediately transported to my parents' cabin, complete with fir trees and juniper pine and crackling wood fires and russian tea and book-reading by firelight and long walks and the noisy silence of the woods....and then with a snap someone swore and a car swerved and a girl laughed shrilly and I was right back in Airdrie again!

And then home, while the blue of the sky fades into a pale blue, then an almost-green, then a light orange, then a cream, then nothing.

Day 81: Drumpelier Park

The sun was shining cheerfully today!  Working from home with the warm sun streaming in through my window, I wished I could be out walking in it.  Fortunately Pin and I finished with enough time to spare before the sun went down (and it's going down later these days - past six while I'm writing this and just now getting dark! summer is coming!), so we leaped into Otis (who was raring to go) and zoomed off to nearby Drumpelier Park.

It had all the beauties we desired, and all the funny things you expect at a park.  We ooohed and ahhhhed at the sun sparkling off the waters, the swans and ducks gathering round to eat prohibited bread ("NO FEEDING THE BIRDS"), the bright green colour of the grass, the dark blue-grey of the waters with the wind making little rippling effects.  And we laughed at the guy who passed us, cycling, about five times whilst we only made it round twice (by the fifth time we were becoming best of friends); the little boy determinedly rolling up the legs of his trousers to wade in, and his mother just as determinedly rolling them back down; the little girl with a red hat and big eyes, staring around at everything in wonder; the couple arguing between themselves as they passed; and Pin's squeaky trainers that sounded like little ducks following us as we walked along.  She tried all kinds of things to get them to stop - walking faster, walking slower, walking on one foot, hopping left, hopping right, spinning around in circles, walking backwards, and finally leaping into a mud puddle in case water would assist.  I was expecting someone to smile and say how kind it was for me to take this clearly special person out for her daily walk. :)

We really enjoyed it.  It's such a pleasure to be out in the sunshine and the fresh air, not even noticing the weather so much as all the surroundings and the joy of walking and talking and covering deep things and unimportant things alike.  I do love my sister.  It's one of the things I miss so much by  having moved here to Scotland from America - just the little things of going for a walk with someone who knows you as well as (sometimes better than) your own self, and doesn't let you away with any of your excuses or fears.  (We were talking about a lot of those as we walked along.)  So I treasure it. 

Afterwards we stopped by Tescos 'to buy a paint brush' and came out with triple sec, mushrooms, vegetables for soup, grocery-style-takeaway for dinner, bananas, a sketchbook, soup, and pasta.  We had to go buy the paint brush separately after we had finished.  Classic!

Now my little Tesco takeaway is done, and I am off to eat it, and watch Harry Potter with my sister! 

Walk on!

Walk length:  40 minutes

Day 80: The Darkening Day

The day felt quite mild as I set off tonight.  Didn't even need a scarf, or hat, or gloves.  But it turned out to be one of those days in which the cold settles itself in during my walk - gives a cheery, friendly, not quite warm but less than cold impression at the start, and then (rubbing its cold winds together briskly) begins to add slight freezes until my ears are quite numb by the end!

Still, I enjoyed it.  The sky darkened from a light blue grey to a darker shade; a corner of the sky peeped blue but was quickly squelched; the sunset attempted an orange glow but was similarly rebuffed.  Not in an angry way - it was as though the sky was a bit too busy for all that bother.  "None of this now, we're getting on towards evening and you've lost your chance," it seemed to say.  Things were done efficiently, swiftly tonight, and my 40 minute walk sped by before I even really realised it.  I tried a new path today - I'd actually taken this one before, but it appears that the council has decided new paths and new fences are in order, so there were some changes to view and all in all I enjoyed more fields and greenery than I normally might.  Then I walked through a few streets to get back to my own, seeing a friend standing in a doorway and greeting him; passing by several knots of small children who had too little to do and too much time; glancing in to the little corner shops where I was peered at suspiciously from inside; and being passed by several young boys who were hurrying along just because they could.

And now back to a warm home and dinner!

Walk length:  40 minutes

Day 79: This Is The Point

Today was another "I don't really feel much like going a walk" day.  Exactly the point of having a blog and a challenge like this!  So I set out at night, with the wind and the rain in my face, the street-lamps shining on the trees covered in raindrops, and took at least a most basic walk in the area around my flat.  I am coming to love the feeling of winning against the elements.  So far, in almost 80 days, my favourite walk was the one in Helensburgh, where the wind and rain was so fierce and so powerful that I had to concentrate on each step, and in many ways felt miserable and cold and wretched.  But all of that combined with my fighting it out anyway, and I've learned that I love the fight.  To sit inside with a cup of tea and a warm duvet and the wind howling outside is nice; but far nicer still is having that feeling after having wrestled with that wind, after being pelted by that rain, and not being daunted.

Walk on!

Walk length:  15 minutes

Day 76: In The Dark And Windy Night

Tonight we drove up to Arbroath for a youth weekend.  You never know what the weather will be like, and the electronic road signs proclaimed "HEAVY SNOW FORECAST ON SATURDAY".  There were cheers in the car (we are all snow fans) but it was not to be.  We did have fierce winds and sharp cold, but I hadn't taken my walk for the day by the time we got up there, so Pin and I put on everything we had and sallied forth to walk along the edge of the sea.  It was very dark, so all I remember is a roaring sea and a big building and a dark road, but the point is we took the walk!

The wind was roaring so loud you could hardly hear yourself speak, much less think.  Having recently watched Dead Poet's Society, I felt compelled to "sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world" - or just Arbroath.  I figured with the way the wind was howling, my yawp would get swallowed up and the Arbroath rooftops could slumber on peacefully.  So, I sounded it.  It was such fun I decided to have another go, standing on a bench (getting in "yawping stance"), but halfway through my yawp I was surprised to find the wind nearly flinging me off it!  I'm not exactly a feather in the wind, so I leaped down immediately and left the yawping for the night.  Pin was undaunted, and leaped up on the same bench, ensuring that her calves were pressed against the back of the bench for support.  Hilariously, this didn't help at all, and she nearly flipped over backwards!  I laughed, but the wind took it away and she never knew.  ;)

Walk length:  20-30 minutes (I thought 15; Pin thinks a half hour. I compromise.)

Day 73: Daily Disciplines

I made myself go out tonight.  I have been going straight from rising to setting and beyond today, and a bit weary in general.  So it was a short walk, but I was glad I did it.  There's something about a walk that freshens the mind, gives you that extra bit of energy, and clears the head a bit.  It also helps you feel accomplished.

Interesting how the little things can do that.  I was realising the other day just how many things I do daily that are disciplines - I very often don't feel like doing them, but the benefit is great.  My daily items include writing for 3 pages in the morning (writing anything, as per my creativity workshop book, The Artist's Way); going for a walk, any length; writing this blog; studying my Bible (I'm learning all that I can about rest from the Bible by journalling my way through it) - and that doesn't include the basics of food and work and the various things that come up.  Some days it overwhelms me, but I've learned that the best way to achieve anything is by doing small things day after day.  Taking a day out every month to do writing doesn't work at all.  Writing 3 pages every morning makes for a heck of a lot achieved without even realising it!

May you all press on in your own daily disciplines today.

Walk length:  15 minutes

Day 72: Confidence in Rest

Another Lord's Day, and another opportunity to get a real and proper rest.  To church in the morning, and then a good long rest including a several-hour-long nap, then back to church in the evening. 

One of the things I've come to really enjoy in the church I am in is singing from the Scottish metrical Psalter.  Sometimes it puts things in a new way, that make me see the familiar Bible verses just a little bit differently.

"O Thou that art the Lord of hosts,
That man is truly blest
Who by assured confidence
on Thee alone doth rest."   -Psalm 84.12

Enjoy your rest today.

Walk length: None! Guilt free!

Day 70: Boodle and Banter

Today I would like to introduce a guest writer.  My sister, Pin.  I am feeling kind of grumpy and tired, despite the great exercise I took to the Boodle Bar (and despite the little giraffe who visited me at my computer), so I shall hand over my electric pen to one who can speak when I can not.  Onward!

(Pin)
.....So since today was a do-nothing, grey cloudy skies (like ALWAYS) and generally bleah, we sat around chatting about various nothings and watching Notting Hill. (It didn't inspire us to walk up any hills, it was just inspiring that our Spirits climbed ye wayward paths. Meanwhile, our bodies were encouraged to lay about in our jammies.)  In any case, though we forced ourselves to walk to the Boodle Bar (which is called "Bar Noodle" by its owners, just until they realise that they named it wrong the first time), it was more of a stopgap than anything.

These days happen in the best of times - or the worst of times - you just get tired of doing the thing you did yesterday, and the day before. You wonder if it even matters. (You wonder if anyone reads or cares about your blog post.) You wonder, as you put on your clothes and they still are not as loose as you'd like, if this exercise thing was dreamed up by skinny California people intent on enslaving poor saps into 'eating healthy', when it doesn't matter if you eat oranges or fried pork for supper. 

I contemplated all these things as I went for my own forced walk; the tiny streets around Airdire are not known for their amazing beauty, nor for any charming countryside in which to get lost. As you could see from a former blog post, when you DO hit countryside (or a magic portal to another world!!), the sight is so amazing that you can't help but get lost. The fairies still roam these parts, unchallenged, unchecked - I'm convinced of it. Sometimes they pose as normal people in ugly scarves and uninspiring hairdos (since all hair must bow to the warmth of hats). Sometimes they hide behind trees and whisper wrong directions to you. (This happens frequently in my case.) There is dog poo in the streets, usually around Hogg Street. (True name!) If you get lost in a dead-end street, you can't just jump the neighbor's fence, you have to go all the way around, back from whence you came. So it takes commitment to plod on. And all those sports films that have the 2-minute spot of huffing and puffing by the brave athlete, the night shot of him/her in the rain (Rocky) or the snow (another Rocky) or late at night in the gym whilst everyone else is slacking (Cinderella Man) should actually be expanded to fill up most of the film. That's the reality - you do a mixture of big pushes and small spurts, because you are human, and because grace exists. At some points you have to 'beat your body into submission' (like the Apostle Paul), and the other days, you can rest in the knowledge that a small effort shows commitment as well as the large effort. 'Sufficient unto the day is the (walk) thereof.' :)

(From your new friend and walker, Pin)

Walk length (Karen): 15 minutes
Walk length (Pin): 45 minutes

Day 67: The Paul Newman

My sister and I have started to come up with some codes to save energy when the same thing comes up again and again.  We have a code for when I start getting grumpy and should just stop talking (I'm not going to tell you what it is, or you might use it against me and make me grumpier!), and one for when I'm too weary to talk about anything but don't want to have to explain that, and this morning as I set off for a walk by myself I created a new one, for when I want to go for a walk by myself as opposed to having company.  That  kind of walk is the Paul Newman walk - it is in solitary.  If you're not familiar with the film The Great Escape, perhaps Chicken Run?  Both excellent films (in their own way), but I'd suggest sitting back with a cup of green tea (or your choice of hot drink) and cosy up to watch the Great Escape tonight.  And then you will know.

So I set off for a Paul Newman this morning, and after walking a familiar path, set off on a brand new one, with no idea where it led.  Those are fun.  And a little tempting to be worrying sometimes, because who knows where I will end up, but I have learned that it is not cheating to whip out my iphone and discover where I am using the maps app, so that I don't wander around in circles and arrive home completely exhausted (as Pin and I did last week!). 

It was slightly icy out today - a brisk wind, but I had no hat and was comfortable enough with just scarf, coat, and gloves.  The ground felt like it had been frozen, and was very slowly unthawing.  There were edges of ice on all the bodies of water (tiny ones and larger ones), and interesting concentric circles, icy crusts, and ice shards everywhere.  I did wish for my wellies a few times, but made it without completely ruining my favourite brown boots, and really enjoyed the peace and opportunity to think.  I quite like having a chat with the Lord as I walk, or just thinking about nothing at all.

A flock of tiny birds rose up and flurried around ahead of me; several dog-walkers passed me with nods of agreement (translation: 'Yes, we are both wise to be out, regardless of the weather; I salute you'); two men were building fences around what is now labelled as a community park scheme; another man passed these and said "they're building fences round us now!"; and before me the road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began....


Walk on!

Walk length: 1.5 hours

Day 65: Rest From The Din O' Natur'

Today we stood still, and rested, and saw great beauty in it.

"The din o' natur' never troubles the guid thouchts in ye...But this noise tumultuous o' human strife, this din o' iron shune an' iron wheels, this whurr and whuzz o' buyin' and sellin' an' gettin' gain - it disna help a body to their prayers."  - George MacDonald, The Marquis of Lossie

Day 64: Frodo and Sam and the Coniston Old Man

After an incredibly restful twelve hours of sleep, I rose luxuriously to a day with nothing particular to ‘attend’.  I did intend to take a long walk that day, but other than that it was lovely that time was not of the essence.  As long as we got our walk in before the light came down, we could do what we liked.  So we took our time having breakfast at our sturdy little brown table, and then I took a wander down to the information centre to pick up some suggested walk leaflets.  There were many, and we chose one that would wander “up hill and down dale” towards the Coniston Old Man, a nearby mountain that I suppose reminds one of an old man although due to the cloud and rain it was shrouded in mist and we didn’t see it looking like much of anything, unless it was a squat old man with a heavy white beard.   

The first half hour or so was on a winding road, with cars appearing every once in a while, driving with extreme care so as not to release the full force of the miniature, raging rivers on either side, on us as we walked along.  We appreciated their efforts, and I think we were making almost as good time as they were.  Several times I wondered if we were heading the right way, but we eventually made our way to a gate and a ‘public footpath’ that pointed the way up to the Coniston Old Man.  

It was raining, not heavily, but steadily.  The kind of rain that just goes on and on and on, getting colder and colder as you get wetter and wetter.  It is not mist and it is not a torrent, just water being deliberately emptied from the heavens in a continual stream that seems to have no end.  We started out with our spirits as light as our dry clothing, which predicted the later occurrence of our spirits becoming heavier as our clothing got wetter.  We made it about halfway up the mountain (perhaps further, but we may never know!) until we realised that even our clothes under our rain-jackets were soaked, and my gloves were retaining more water than heat.   

 

Stopping to eat our sandwiches was an effort in and of itself;  we tried unsuccessfully to hide behind large boulders for protection from the driving wind and rain.  After sitting hunched by the boulders eating cold sandwiches and drinking cold water, we emerged from our makeshift hideout to discover that the flatlands were less windy than the hillsides, boulder protection notwithstanding.  Pin pointed out that we were like the intrepid Covenanters, who crossed windy hills and rainy marshlands to worship God when all the local (comfortable and warm) churches were not preaching the Word of God.  We also felt a bit like Frodo and Sam, as my energy levels are lower than Pin’s, so she like Sam encouraged me with cheerful comments and offered to carry my backpack when my strength was failing.  “I can’t carry the ring, Mr Frodo,” said Pin as she strapped on the bag, “but I can carry you!”  She began walking and added, “Actually I don’t think I could carry you very well so I’m just glad to do what I can by carrying this backpack.”  She kept seeing views that reminded her of the Lord of the Rings films – high mountains and misty clouds and gnarled old trees and pouring rain and hidden caves.  We did come across a little cave at the side of a burn, and I tramped through in my wellies (my famous green welly boots that have seen me through so much wet Scottish – and now English – weathers) through the cold burn and thick red leaves to peer into the deep cave with water dripping from the top and sides – the kind of dripping that in very cold weather would become stalagmites in an icy cave.  We both peered in, Pin bravely following me into the rushing burn, but decided instead of sloshing through the cave to carry on up the hill.  

 

After we turned back and the path descended again, we kept our spirits up by locking arms and descending the mountain with cheer, remembering our cosy cottage and dry clothing and hot tea awaiting us.  It does help, when you are soaked to the skin and walking through endless cold rain and wind, to know that there is warmth to come.  We reminded ourselves that the Christian life can be like that – when it gets weary and difficult and cold and miserable, you walk on, remembering that there is warmth and comfort and hope to come.  I noted that the greater difficulty is that the path of the Christian life is ever upwards – whereas we had the option to stop going up and go right back down to the beginning – but oh, the views on the heights!

Walk on!

Walk length:  3 hours

Day 63: The Walkers Of Wildfell Hall

Today we drove down to the Lake District for the weekend.  I remember thinking about our upcoming weekend as I took my walk a few days earlier and it was raining, raining, raining.  I thought, ‘Lord, please let the weather be...’ and then paused, realising that I genuinely didn’t mind what the weather was.  Even if it rained all weekend, the point was to curl up in a nice cosy cottage after going for long walks (even in the rain), and so I finished my prayer by just saying, ‘Lord, you do what You like with the weather, I don’t mind.’  Of course He will do what He likes anyway with the weather, but it’s kind of nice to just agree with Him regardless and trust that even ‘rubbish’ weather will suit my best interests, too.  

So we drove through pouring, blinding rain the entire way down, and began the winding drive through the misty, red hills and fields of the Lake District.  Our cottage is in a little town (village?) called Coniston, and after driving round endless curves and spraying high waves of water on either side of my little red car, we finally turned the corner to ‘Bend or Bump Cottage’, tucked away behind the Sun Hotel.  (I think the name of the hotel is the only sun we may get this weekend...but as per my prayer that is perfectly fine!)  The cottage perfectly lives up to its name, and after several minutes of carefully backing into its tiny driveway, we emptied the contents of the little red car into the little low cottage, appropriately bending lest we bump.  

It is quiet here – so quiet I realise just  how much noise there is even in my quiet flat at home.  There are no cars driving by, no people walking by – just hills and trees and softly pattering rain that even makes no sound as it lands on the thick cottage roof.  The huge beams are the kind that look like they could build Her Majesty’s ships...solid and brown and lasting for centuries.  Pin and I played a card game, drank Russian Tea, and waited for our beef stew to simmer in the tiny oven.  After our hefty meal of beef stew with potatoes, fresh bread, sliced tomatoes, and tea (grand total cost: £2) we set forth in the darkness to walk around the village.  It was indeed darkness – pitch blackness that was illuminated in certain areas by houses and hotels.  The area directly in front of our door looked like nothing, but the next day we would discover mountains and hills and chickens and ferns spread liberally around.  

We turned left into the village, past the roaring river, full up with more water than usual and hurling itself over rocks and splashing up against the sides of the burn, over the bridge and past the Black Bull Inn and several other pubs of similar name and nature.  Everything was cosy and lit up, but we pressed on through the slight misty rain that slanted in but didn’t really bother us too much.  We went well prepared, and it didn’t even feel like it was raining, but at one point I looked over and Pin’s face was covered with water droplets.  I laughed, and pointed it out, and she said she didn’t mind as long as her mascara wasn’t running.  That made me really laugh, since Pin is probably the least makeup-worried female person I know, and in that misty rain with water all over, pretty much everything runs down the face, mascara included.  Pin pointed out big houses that looked spooky to her, one that reminded her of Wildfell Hall, and she imagined that we were tenants thereof, out for our evening constitutional in the deep darkness and slight spookiness.  I was glad to have a companion for my walk and so was she.

We carried on and went left here and right there and suddenly found ourselves right back at the beginning!  It surprised us immensely as we hadn’t intended to walk in a circle, so we went a little further and then turned back and came into a warm cottage with hot tea and biscuits and curled up on the couch to watch a film, at which point I promptly fell asleep and struggled up the small winding stairs to my comfortable bed and slept straight for twelve hours. 

Walk length:  40 minutes

Day 59: Rejoice In Rain

Tonight was one of those days where I wasn't sure at all if I was going to make it out for a walk.  Had a low energy day yesterday and was glad to be feeling better today, but didn't want to overdo it.  By around 9, though, I thought I could take a little walk.  I looked out and in addition to being cold and dark, it was howling wind and pouring rain.  Normally (as in, before I started this blog), I would have just closed the window blinds and said 'I'll try it tomorrow'.  But tonight I just barely glanced at it and my thought was simply, 'I guess I'll need my rainjacket and trainers instead of scarf and coat and boots'.  I barely looked up the entire walk, and I was pretty worn out when I got back, but it was a successful walk.

I'm learning to rejoice in any kind of weather, and the ability to go out in it.  After all, the difference between horrible weather and good weather really often comes down to clothing!

And tomorrow my little sister arrives, and we can go a walk together!!

Walk length: 15 minutes