First rule for surviving Michigan winter? A daily walk with my kids

I walk with my kids every single day.

Or at least I try to walk with them every single day. Sure, there are some days we miss; soccer practice or a doctor’s appointment might get in the way every once in a while. Then there’s weather (light rain is doable; torrential downpour less so) and illness.

Though our winter walks aren’t as pleasant as our other walks, it doesn’t mean they aren’t as important. Our winter walks are good for the soul and good for the spirit.

But as long as none of those things occur, our two oldest kids and I get our daily two miles in.

Tramps like us

We are blessed to live on the edge of a small town in Northern Michigan, so getting out and into the natural world isn’t too difficult. We walk out the front door, about 10 minutes down the street, and have our choice of trails and cornfields to traverse.

In the spring, it’s soggy. The cool damp air filled with the smell of nearly blooming flowers, the patter of light rain on the leaves above, the sound of mud squishing beneath our boots. There’s a certain way spring smells. It’s fresh foliage. It’s new life. Refreshing.

In the summer, the walks are so nice. We walk in the late afternoon, when the sun is hot and the shadows are growing, before the mosquitos are out and after my work is done for the day. By the time we get back home, dinner is just about ready to be put on the grill.

Our walks in the fall are glorious. There’s something about those first days of chilly weather. They are so refreshing after the sweaty heat of the summer. They come slowly and gradually over a few weeks in late September. Slowly the shorts are put away, the corduroys are brought out, jackets are zipped up, and out we go for our walk in that beautiful world of orange, red, and yellow.

Cold comfort

The winter walks are tough. The cold is unrelenting, the snow is deep, and the wind is almost always strong. In our region of the deep North, we don’t get much sun in the winter. Almost every day, the sky is a mix of gray, cobalt, and steel. It’s not uncommon for us to go a week or more without a single glint of sun.

So on these days — and these are our current days — we bundle up nice and tight with sweaters, snow pants, heavy jackets, balaclavas, and mittens and head out on our daily walk.

I would be lying if I said the walks these days are easy like the walks on the warm days. We talk a little less on these winter walks. It’s hard to properly articulate one’s thoughts through a scarf or a balaclava. It’s hard to hear kids’ voices over the whipping of the wind. It’s also just not that pleasant to converse when you are standing in the middle of a frozen field and the temperature is hovering around 11 degrees with a windchill of -6.

Frozen moments

Though our winter walks aren’t as pleasant as our other walks, it doesn’t mean they aren’t as important. Our winter walks are good for the soul and good for the spirit. The cold makes us strong, and as is the case for most things that make us strong, there is a part of us that hates the process.

But it’s good for us. The cold and the walk. It’s good to make yourself do hard things, and it’s good to start doing them at a young age. And it’s good to do them in each other’s company.

That’s actually the most important thing of all. That’s why I do the walks in the first place, so I can be away from my computer and my phone. So I can spend time with the kids, just walking.

Sometimes I think about how my kids will remember their childhoods. How will they look back on these days? How will they think about mom and dad when they are on their own? What stuff will they remember, and what stuff will they forget? What things will stick with them and characterize us, their parents?

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Peter Gietl

Winter’s tale

I can’t predict it and neither could my parents. I had a great childhood, but I don’t remember that much of it. Sure I remember a lot. But do I remember 18 years’ worth? No. Some stuff just sticks with us, and some just doesn’t.

Nevertheless I would love it if my kids remember our afternoon walks together. It makes me happy to imagine them in their 30s, reminiscing about their childhoods to their own kids:

“Dad always used to walk with us every day. It was so cold sometimes. He was crazy for that. But it was good for us. I remember walking with my sister — your aunt — a few steps behind your grandpa, trying to keep up. We would throw snow at each other, goof off and fall behind, and then dad would turn around and tell us to hurry up because we have to get back for dinner.”

Someday my kids will break away to take their own paths. At times, that day seems a long way off; other times, I’m afraid it will be here in the blink of an eye. Until then, we’ll keep putting one foot in front of the other, together.