Chapter 1: A Reluctant Start

The chilly allure of winter sports can often be overshadowed by our own preconceived notions, preventing us from reveling in the outdoor adventures that await.

In March of 1985, I distinctly recall the sounds of my classmates joyfully squealing outside while I remained cozily nestled by a crackling fire. It was our senior trip—a final escapade for our tight-knit group of forty-four. The majority opted for a day filled with winter fun at a nearby ski hill, featuring skiing and tubing, yet I declined both.

I sat on the yellow school bus, dressed in Levi's and tennis shoes while my classmates donned their warm hats and snow boots. When questioned about my choice to stay indoors, I firmly replied, “I’m not going out. It’s too chilly. Winter sports just aren’t for me.”

Reflecting on this, it seems peculiar for someone raised in the Midwest, especially in Iowa, to dismiss winter activities without ever experiencing warmth elsewhere. At that time, I had never known a winter that didn’t leave me shivering. Nonetheless, I resolved that winter sports were simply not my cup of tea.

As my classmates ventured in and out of the lodge, cheeks flushed from their escapades, I busied myself with Tupperware containers filled with snacks. To mask my boredom, I buried my head in a book, keeping myself occupied while others enjoyed the snow.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us? You can borrow my hat and coat while I take a break,” my friend Bev suggested, pitying my situation. Though I was missing out on the fun, my stubbornness kept me indoors, where my only shared experience of the day was indulging in pizza and soda on the bus ride.

During my childhood in Iowa, I had spent countless winter days outside, building snow forts and engaging in snowball fights. Ice skates were always ready for use when the tennis courts transformed into an ice rink. I trudged through the cold alongside friends and family, eagerly anticipating the moment I could peel off my damp clothes and warm up by the heating vents.

While I endured the chill as a child, my outdoor participation stemmed more from boredom and a desire to join in than a genuine love for winter activities.

As I transitioned into college, I found myself nine miles from home, where the winters remained just as harsh. By 1990, adulthood moved me down to Omaha, enduring thirty frosty winters, despite my parents relocating to Arizona shortly after my graduation.

My aversion to winter didn’t change my circumstances; instead, I adapted. My three sons in Nebraska did not share my disinterest in winter fun; they thrived outdoors, while I remained indoors baking cookies or preparing soup. Running became my only seasonal outdoor activity, primarily driven by boredom and a need for physical engagement. Although a gym membership was a prized possession during Midwestern winters, running laps in a small gym grew tiresome.

Chapter 2: A Shift in Mindset

The first video, Black Folk Don't: Do Winter Sports [Episode Four], delves into the cultural perceptions surrounding winter sports, showcasing the barriers many face in embracing these activities.

In 2020, my life transformed again with a second marriage and a chance to start anew in a different area. Ironically, my husband was a passionate skier, and his enthusiasm for the sport heavily influenced our decision to move. While Bozeman, Montana, was initially appealing due to its snowy landscape, I expressed a desire for a location that offered some warmth. Ultimately, we settled in Durango, Colorado, where we could experience both mild weather and winter sports.

During our first winters in Durango, I slipped into my familiar role of staying home on powder days, offering excuses to avoid the slopes. With a limited collection of skiing gear used only a couple of times each season, I instead focused on preparing warm meals at home. Despite my husband and dog reveling in the snow, I remained an observer, enjoying the view from indoors.

However, everything changed in 2024.

On a nostalgic trip with Bev, we flipped through old high school yearbooks, rediscovering images from that memorable senior trip. Seeing those photos made me realize what I had missed out on while I stayed warm inside. I shared one of the bus pictures on Facebook, capturing the joyful faces of my classmates, which sparked a wave of comments reminiscing about our winter fun—memories I was not a part of.

While gazing out my window after Durango's initial snowfall last fall, I recognized the reality of my mindset: my aversion to winter was merely a mental barrier. The imagery from "The Cat in the Hat" came to mind, where kids longed to play outside despite the rain. Their struggle contrasted starkly with my own, rooted in a snowy landscape.

Instead of making excuses, I began to change my perspective. The friends I had made while running, biking, and paddle-boarding during warmer months were all passionate about winter sports. Encouraged by a biking companion, I invested in a season pass at the Durango Nordic Center, rented cross-country skis, and borrowed snowshoes. I even stowed clip-on spikes for my running shoes in my car to ensure I was always prepared.

Living in a year-round outdoor paradise, I discovered a newfound passion for winter sports. Durango’s breathtaking mountains and trails, alongside a flowing river, offered a playground for all types of athletic endeavors.

Not only did I begin to appreciate the beauty of the snowy landscapes, but exercising under the clear blue sky with views of majestic mountaintops became invigorating. I learned that the cold doesn’t equate to discomfort; rather, it’s all about dressing in layers. I found myself shedding layers instead of adding them.

With the sun shining and pleasant temperatures on most days, I came to understand that experiencing a winter wonderland is best done outdoors, rather than from the comfort of indoors. My daily routine now includes organizing meet-ups at various cross-country trails, and I’ve joined a group called the Bluebird Ladies, who share opportunities for winter outings.

While walking my dog along the snowy trails this morning, I contemplated my plans for the week, mapping out openings for cross-country excursions or trail runs while keeping an eye on the weather forecast.

As my dog playfully dove into the snow, a neighbor approached, and we exchanged friendly words about the unseasonably mild temperatures.

Without missing a beat, I responded, “But we REALLY need some fresh snow.”

I suppose it’s official: I’ve become a winter sports enthusiast.