I don’t want to…

I don’t want to.

Last weekend I signed up for the first orienteering race of the year. After all, it was the event I helped start years ago – the Snow-O – that has now become annual tradition for my club.

It’s cold. It’s miserable. No one’s been in the woods for some time.

It’s not a delight when you’re still in a warm cozy bed on a Saturday morning. Last weekend called for 32F and snow. C’mon.

I didn’t want to go.

And who can blame me? Running around in freezing weather, map in hand, hoping my poor conditioning doesn’t leave me alone in a ravine someplace, unable to get out. Forecast: Grim.

I had a pretty strict talk with myself.

“It’s time. Let’s go. Don’t disappoint your club. It’s only 6-8km, and it will only take an hour or so. You won’t even feel the cold. You know how to read a map. As a matter of fact, you’re kinda good at it…”

You know, the usual self-talk.

And so I did. Even though I didn’t want to.

I put on my bright neon running tights, found a thermal top, club shirt, carbide-tipped orienteering shoes, and compass, and off I went.

It was cold. It was a strain on my lungs and my legs. But my mind fired with all its might, control after control, and I managed to sneak in a top placement. Skills were still sharp after a 2-year hiatus, apparently.


Discipline. Discipline to get it done. To perform. To take the next step, to get out of the comfort zone, and into the woods. “I can do anything for an hour or so,” I told myself at the starting line. And it’s true. You can too…

I didn’t want to at first. I did it anyway. Your mileage may vary.