This week has been my favourite kind of weather.
Yesterday afternoon, sat outside with a cup of tea, the tips of my fingers turning a little numb, I made myself promise that if the next morning I felt sad or worried, that I would push it to one side and just get outside as quickly as I could.
I slept well, but then you have that moment – do you know it? – when you’ve got out of bed, and a weight comes down on top of you and it feels like all that’s to be done is to go back again to the warm. You feel like really, you’re not sure you can do anything else. This morning I didn’t give in. I got cross instead. I shouted out loud at myself, worrying at the same time about whether or not that really is the first sign of madness, and bossed myself about until I was washed, dressed and ready to go, all in the space of about 15 minutes.
As soon as I stepped outside I felt better, and I felt proud of myself for taking my own advice, and pushing through the January morning blues and out into the winter frost. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the grass crunchy under my feet, and within about five minutes I had that wonderful feeling where your legs go cold all the way through – so cold that you know they are going to stay cold to the touch for at least half an hour after you get inside, like walking ice packs.
There is something particularly special about the cold weather and the way it makes you so aware of yourself physically. When you’re cold, you’re very aware of being cold, (if that doesn’t sound like the most obvious statement in the world), and that takes you out of your mind and into your body. It makes you concentrate on your physical self in that moment, and that can only be a good thing.
Photo – Marina Zezelina/shutterstock