Hot and Cold

When I was only two or three, my parents took me snowmobiling one afternoon at a place called Walden Pond.  No, it's not the same Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts, that Henry David Thoreau wrote about.  When I was a little older we would go to Walden Pond and eat sourdough pancakes with real maple syrup after the owners had tapped the trees for sap and boiled it down.  Eating pancakes in a lodge by a pond is pretty cool, huh?  But, on the day in question we were snowmobiling on the grounds of Walden.  Evidently, snowmobiles were available to rent and my parents decided to take my sister and me riding one afternoon.

I don't remember that day.  I do remember feeling my cheeks days later and wondering why I had hard spots on each one.  My parents noticed the redness and the hard spots and realized I must have been frostbitten while riding that afternoon at Walden.  Oh my God!  What have we done to our little boy? they asked themselves.  But, it was no one's fault.  My mom remembers it being a beautiful sunny day and no one being overly cold.  I never complained of being cold.  Nonetheless, riding around for a while was enough to affect my exposed cheeks.

I don't remember being in pain.  I don't even remember being too concerned about my cheeks.  I just found it interesting I think.  Why do I have hard spots on my cheeks?

I made a full recovery and the redness and hard spots went away.  I never seemed to suffer any permanent damage.  And, the experience didn't seem to affect my feelings toward winter weather.  As a youth I took part in most of the wintertime activities most kids do.  I built snowmen and snow forts.  I made snow angels.  I went sledding.

Sure, at times winter weather was bitter cold and a bit too much.  You dreaded recess on those days.  I think my friend Brad informed our teacher once that he would be staying inside and coloring during recess on a particularly brutal day.  That, of course, didn't fly.  We still had to go outside.  Sadists!

Even getting on the bus in the morning was painful.  Our house was one of the first on the bus route and the bus was still freezing cold.  Sitting down on one of those cold hard bench seats was excruciating.  Christ!  I can still see my breath!  Is this Dante's ninth circle of Hell for crying out loud?  The bus was warm by the time we reached school.  Thanks a lot!

It was the same experience getting into a cold car if we'd been, say, visiting my grandparents some winter evening.  It's not like my dad was going to let the car warm up for an hour before we left.  Even as a little kid I tried to reassure myself that it would warm up if I had a little patience.  When we got home I was half asleep and didn't want to get out of the car which was now warm.

When the weather would warm up in the springtime, it was an amazing experience.  God does exist!  It was still only about 50 degrees outside but kids were whipping off their jackets in jubilation only to be scolded by the teacher on recess duty.  "Put your damn coat on!"

I went to a sledding party at my girlfriend's house during my freshman year.  I decided not to wear a hat because hats didn't look cool and I didn't want to mess up my hair.  What a prima donna.  What an idiot.  Like anyone cared what my hair looked like.  Everyone else was bundled up sensibly.  But, not me.  Fortunately, when I soon realized what a fool I was someone loaned me an extra hat which I gladly placed upon my head.

Dieting for wrestling was always a miserable affair.  Starving is not a good time.  I'm hungry!  Dieting to the point that you have very little insulation (body fat) left and no fuel in your body is particularly painful.  I can't speak for other wrestlers, but I developed quite a case of cold intolerance.  I was sensitive to the cold weather that comes along with participating in a winter sport.

The funny thing is that we practiced in a room that was probably around 80 degrees.  Most wrestlers lose weight through sweating which is why the room is kept so hot.  It felt unbearably hot sometimes.  "Is it okay, coach, if I step outside briefly and crawl into a snowbank?"

I can remember walking around high school freezing my ass off and yet dying of thirst because I was restricting fluids to lose water weight.  Cold as hell and yet wishing I could have a big cold glass of water.  Nuts!

Later in life I would develop anorexia nervosa.  I lost a lot of weight.  I was cold all the time.  An eighty degree summer day was heaven.  Winter weather was hell.  Crank the heat! 

Here's an interesting fact.  My family always made homemade ice cream on New Year's Day.  Someone once asked me why we didn't make ice cream during the summer.  The thought that making ice cream during the summer months would have made more sense never crossed my mind.  Making ice cream on New Year's was our tradition and never seemed odd to me at all. 

I still hate cold weather.  Hell probably isn't hot.  It's probably cold.  Cold like a Northeast Iowa winter.  Every year it's the same.  Winter rolls around and I swear I am getting into my car and running away to California or Texas or Florida.  Maybe I'll even fly to Hawaii and never return to the mainland I say.  But, here I am putting on a hat and gloves and sweeping snow off of my car knowing I'll probably always be here.  At least I know how to drive on snowy roads unlike some people.

I hate cold weather.  Winter with all its accompanying snow can be beautiful at times I suppose.  I'll give you that.  But, I prefer sunny warm weather.

I love the sun.  I'm a Leo.  So, perhaps that makes sense.