the glorious outdoors

I spent a lot of time outside today. Finally, after months of waiting, I went sledding for the first time this year. My brand new sled, bought just for this occasion, lasted four runs before it got all ripped up and died. But it was a lot of fun while it lasted, and I'm pretty sure I can patch it up. Then on the way to Timmy Ho's tonight I got a call from Mel, who had firmly landed her van in a snowbank. This called for boots and heavy-duty gloves and shovels. Digging ice chunks out of the front wheel wells in 15 degree weather and contemplating how sore I'm going to be tomorrow, I realized why some people don't like winter.

When I was little, I was afraid that growing up meant that you couldn't have fun anymore. That adulthood was a world of pantyhose and obligations and social laws demanding reserve every minute of every day. But today I went sledding like I have every winter since I can remember, complete with puffy snowpants and Land's End boots. And even though my legs are longer, I still reached target heart rate on my first trip up the hill. Unlike my Christmas tree, I'm pretty sure that hill gets bigger every single year. I stood at the top with the same trepidation. Going down, my bloody murder scream hasn't changed a bit. And it had the same thrill, that feeling of flying a hundred miles an hour, and wondering each time a bump hurls you into the air whether or not you will actually touch down to earth again. And lying back on my sled at the end of the run, staring at the sky and listening to my heart pound, my breathless, relieved laugh is exactly the same as it's always been.

Who you are doesn't really change. You just grow some more layers. No matter how thickly coated you are, or how different it looks from the outside, there's always that core of you. That's where the bloody murder scream comes from, that's where that little laugh comes from. That's the oldest, most pure, most universal part of you. It's good to branch out and deepen and grow. But don't lose that central piece. It knows how to sit back and laugh at the ride.