I used to hate winter, and I used to really hate February, the shortest month of the year that ironically felt like the longest. But sometimes you end up doing a 180, like when you decide to close down a blog and then realise six months later that that’s not at all what you want to do 😉. Well, finally this winter I’ve come round to absolutely loving it (ha, forgetting that I very much still abhor Christmas, and can’t see that changing, but never say never I guess?). So how did I get here? It was a gradual surrender, first starting with running through the winters, then switching to cold water swimming six years ago, oh and of course the odd ski trip to the Alps when our budget permitted. I also accepted that the short days and the dark weren’t my enemies, but that I could instead heavily lean into burning candles, turning the lights low and being cosy (basically be more Scandinavian, like how I grew up - duh). Also, to layer up in serious thermals and blankets, and add a hot water bottle if I got too cold at home, because I’m a weirdo that gets cold indoors, but happily swims in frigid water without a moment’s hesitation. I also accept that I will move less and eat more, and that fighting against our innate need to hibernate is futile. In my self inflicted acceptance of loving winter, I’ve forgotten that I’m in the minority, and when I hear others say how much they hate winter I’m surprised now, just as they are when I say that I feel the exact opposite.
