Winter Funks and Blues

There is a week every year, usually a week of grey skies and slush, when winter just gets to me. It’s the week every year when I lose all focus and motivation to do the things I usually love to do. It’s always a week that begins with such high expectations, and then almost nothing gets accomplished. Well, I keep committed to accomplishing the bare minimum for other people. But almost nothing happens for myself.

I know that there are plenty of people who spend most of the grey, cold winter days in a funk. Months spent struggling to maintain the bare minimum of their routines. Months spent waiting for the thaw to come, melting the snow and unfreezing their desire to do a little more with their days. So, I consider myself pretty lucky that my winter blues often only last a week.

This year it was the first week of February. After intentionally taking January as a lighter month of running, I had every intention of tackling February. I was ready to ramp my miles back up and focus on getting stronger. I even signed up for a friend’s strength training subscription program with five workouts a week. Instead, the first week of February was my lowest running mileage week since sometime in 2019. And I only made it through one [and a half] of the strength workouts.

The first week of February I was also going to finish remodeling our bathroom. And bake several dozen cookies to share with several hard working people. And pick a project back up that I had intentionally set down a few months ago. I had wanted a break from making progress on my project, but felt ready to come back to it for February with fresh eyes.

Maybe I was being a little over ambitious with my to-do list for the first week of February. [Maybe, or definitely. I’ll leave the verdict up to you.] But I like utilizing Mondays and the firsts of a month as fresh beginnings. So, Monday February 1st and the immaculately organized four weeks of calendar ahead were irresistible. On paper, this February begged to be utilized as the perfectly productive month it was literally shaped to be.

But, that isn’t what happened. Instead, February 1st [& 2nd] we got another snowstorm. The sky stayed a dull grey and the temperatures dropped even lower. All those big plans I had, suddenly I just didn’t want to anymore. It was hard enough to do my actual job and run the few miles that I managed to get in. I left the bathroom in its half-done state and my project sat still abandoned on my desk. Even the oven remained off all week. 

To put it simply, for this one week, I don’t have the energy to do anything extra. For the other 51 weeks of the year, I may slump for a day or two here and there. I sometimes skip my run or procrastinate on a project until tomorrow. But never like I do during this week that I’ve come to know as an annual winter tradition.

For a day or two, I try to fight it. But the runs don’t get better after the first mile, and setting butter on the counter doesn’t motivate me to mix batter. My usual tricks, the cues that put me in forward motion don’t click into place. By day three, I resign to the week being less than my expectations. Instead of getting upset about it, I focus the little bit of energy I find into holding still. I know there is nothing in the week that moves me incrementally forward, so I shift my effort toward not falling backwards.

I go through the motions of my day as best as possible. Because a little bit is always better than nothing when you are working towards something. I’d rather bundle up for a run one-third as long as normal than sit on the sidelines. [Even when the sidelines look a whole lot cozier than roads.] I’ll take a day, but I’m always hesitant about letting that one day become two. Because once you know how much easier it is to sit on the sidelines, will you stand back up?

If you spend enough time on the sidelines, you might just find that getting back into it [whatever it is for you] is harder than it was to start in the first place. That’s how it’s always been for me anyway. For a while, the climb back up is never as much fun when you remember the view from higher vistas. So, I’ve gotten better over the years at living on the vistas when I need a break from climbing. Because you can find a way to rest a bit without climbing back down.

So, when the grey funk of winter hits, I let myself have the week. I let myself take a break while keeping my eyes open for the avalanche. I’ll rest, but I won’t let myself slide down. And then, when I’ve caught my breath, I start looking for the next section of trail to climb.

Earlier I said that I was lucky that my winter blues only last a week. That’s true, but I also work hard to only let them last a week. I believe my luck comes from refusing to spend winter sitting on the sidelines. For the rest of these cold, dark months I keep moving forward. It’s often smaller steps than I’d like, but it’s something. I remind myself to be proud of that, because a little bit is always better than nothing. And holding still is better than sliding backwards.

Three weeks into February, and the sky is a brilliant blue. Snow piles are high and I think we’ve only gotten above freezing for a couple of hours one day so far. But today the sun is shining and it almost feels warm. All those cookies have been baked, delivered, and enjoyed. And my updated bathroom is put back together with newly painted mermaid green walls.

I haven’t run nearly enough miles to reach my lofty February training goal, and I haven’t followed through on that many of the strength training workouts each week either. But I’ve gone running at least a handful of miles almost every day, and that’s something. I’ve also remembered that when it comes to strength training, I’m not a fan of following circuits. Which is good, because at least now I know that I’ll just have to find another way.

It’s been a month with more holding still than I was initially hoping for, but that’s okay. Because slower and still are not the same as backwards. Winter is a delicate dance filled with tiny steps and plenty of pauses. The movements can be so subtle that only those on the dance floor know they are happening. From the sidelines, it probably doesn’t look like much. But those that never stop trying to dance don’t have to warm back up when the thaw comes.