In all that I do, enduring the past week of the beyond insane wind-chill factors has been challenging in ways I really hadn’t previously expected.
The sheer weight of it all.
Not “pressure” of the barometer.
Not any extra pounds and ounces of relative inactivity since the myocardial infarction of pre-holidays.
The actual, physical weight of winter attire.
Finally taken it’s toll with some kind of snafu in my shoulder (within the glenoid cavity, to be precise, because learning anatomy for this Chartered Herbalism program shouldn’t go unused, right?).
Sweet mother of jeebuz! (o.O)
It’s hard to function on a good day…factor in the plethora of layers required to step out into -41C windchill (Ottawa was *the* coldest capital in the world yesterday…colder than Siberia…even colder than our own Arctic cities) and my I’ve-earned-this-ass feels like it’s been through the wringer.
Pulling up snowpants over jeans over longjohns stuck to lotioned legs.
Pulling on sweatshirt over t-shirt over tanktop-bra.
Pulling over a coat hood over a fleece hood/scarf over a toque.
Zipping up coat over second coat over snowpants.
On the best of days, it hurts to hold a toothbrush.
The pain is searing.
The pain is to the extent that my blood pressure is up, I’ve got those internal “shakes” and I want to crawl into a hole and cry.
Never, ever did it cross my mind the extent to which such a cold snap can have on the body as a matter of function…not just the internalization of swelling and aching due to chronic afflictions, but also the “my synovial fluid discs just turned into hockey pucks” kind of cold in addition.
Then I have to WALK.
Up to the end of the road…then wait for approximately a half an hour while waiting for my children’s school bus and that of my daycare girls.
Then I have to walk BACK.
Every aching, burning muscle. Forcing my legs to move. Reminding myself not to scrunch up my shoulders into my neck. The weight of the layers feeling like elastic bands gripping my carcass to the ground with every step.
Twice a day.
Looks like relief will come on Monday to the city. Snow, too.
Until then, I shall mimic the Robaxacet Man in the throes of the icy grip of the puppeteer.
*note to self: wear waterproof mascara when it’s minus eleventy-billion degrees outside…hot breath condensing on lashes leads to raccoon eyes…don’t do it*