Step-It-Up A Notch

Cheryl and year-round Floridian, Kornelia, kayaking on the Indian River, Vero Beach, Florida

Walking and jogging at Olander Park, Sylvania, Ohio

While I am spending the winter in Florida, I am hanging out with some new-found friends who live in Florida year round. It is amusing that they will spend their evenings at home cuddled up in a blanket on the couch. Meanwhile, I am outside in shorts and bare feet. Yesterday I went kayaking with two year-round residents who were dressed in long pants and fleece jackets. I was in shorts and bare feet again. Afterwards, when we were were making plans for our next paddle, one of them suggested that we wait until it warms up a bit. It was 71 degrees! (Kornelia has since corrected me that with the wind-chill factor it was much colder....about 62 degrees!)

It's what we get use to, isn't it? In Toledo I will spend November and December evenings on the couch wrapped up in a blanket even though I am next to a blazing wood burner. We just need to burrow a bit; the shorter days and longer nights are our bio-rhythmic signal to slow down regardless of the ambient air temperature.

We have been gaining day light since the winter solstice nearly a month ago, so it is time to step-it-up a notch. It is important for the body to start moving more again. Get outside a bit. The outdoor air is essential to clear our heads and fill our lungs with "essence of oxygen." It will invigorate you.

There are several ways to get outside in winter in the Toledo area.
The Metroparks (metroparkstoledo.com) has dozens of trails to walk or cross-country ski, and believe me, I miss those opportunities to ski (but I did go 5 times before leaving for Florida).
Olander Park in Sylvania has a walking program called the Frosty 150 which runs until April 30. It is an honor incentive program with an achievement award extended to those who complete the milage. Pick up a log at the information box outside Nederhouser Community Hall or phone 419-882-8313 (olanderpk.com).
The Sylvania Senior Center has an indoor walking program which utilizes the Tam O'Shanter Sports Center. If you are 55 or older, whether you are from Sylvania or not, you can use the fitness center at the Sylvania Senior Center for free (419-885-3919). There is a volunteer fitness instructor from Wildwood Athletic Center who comes on Fridays from 12 to 1. She will help you get started on the weight machines and elipticals, teaching you proper form and routines to meet your goals. Say Hi! to Jill, it is so kind of her to give her time and expertise.

If you want to be with a fun bunch of people who go outdoors all the time regardless of the weather, become a member of Hosteling International-Toledo Area (www.hitoledo.org or phone the activities chair, Pat Squire 419-243-7680). It cost less than $30 for the year to have at least one free, planned outing each week, usually walking or bike riding. These people got me started riding bicycle, and now I am doing triathlons.

I want to mention Transformations Institute. I haven't done any of their programs, training or retreats yet, but I know the woman who started it, Pat Altvater, and she is dynamic. If you are looking at weight loss beyond dieting, she has a multi-media program to change behavior, choosing health for the mind, body, and spirit. There is a fitness connection, FIT, which you can find more information about on the web (www.transformationsinstitute.com)

Now you will have no excuse not to be ready to hike with me in the spring. We are going to do the 17 mile trail at Oak Openings Preserve on the 17th of April and May, and September and October. It's easy to remember the date, right? 17 miles on the 17th. I'll have a healthy lunch and energy bars to keep you going. (But I can figure a way for you to cut off at 8 miles if you insist!).

There are 2 backpacking trips coming up too; May 3-4, and October 11-12. These are for women only, experienced or not. Imagine completing the 17 mile trail in 2 days with a self-contained backpack loaded with tent, food, and clothing. If you are a decent walker and don't have back problems, you can do this. I've led dozens on this trail, ages 12 to 70.

Then we have an out-of-town cross-training camp. The best part about this is its location...in a home on a beautiful lake surrounded by woods in northern Michigan. This is for women of all abilities, and will include choices like mountain biking, running, swimming, nature hikes, kayaking,yoga and campfire chats about fitness, healthy foods, and athletic training. Joyce Donaldson, coach and Olympic triathlon officiator, will co-lead this fitness booster on May 29, 30, 31 and June 1. See www.eliteendeavors.com for more information or contact me at cherylmccormick@gmail.com.

I know of a sure way to keep me fit and that is to plan to enter one challenging athletic event per year. My goal is to do my best even if I have to walk to complete the event. This keeps me going with some training goals all year long. The frosting is sweet---being around sweaty athletes and being called one myself!

If you feel a little fearful of the cold, take the time to read the article "Personal Best: Too Cold to Exercise? Try Another Excuse" in the New York Times, Health/Fitness & Nutrition, January 17, 2008 (www.NYTimes.com). I fully agree with the physiologists....keep moving, the body generates the heat to keep you warm. Just stay dry and be aware of hazards like frostbite and hypothermia. Understand that cold air does not induce asthma; dry air does.

Step-it-up a notch and rev-up the body thermostat. The cool air will feel like a summer breeze on your rosy cheeks.

Calendar Butterfly 2008

My husband and I were stacking firewood on the back porch a couple of days ago in below- freezing weather. Dan noticed a battered, brown butterfly on the ground. We took a closer look and could see the wings moving slowly. Apparently we had disturbed its overwintering site in the logs. Eager to get the wood loaded and consequently, without giving it much thought, I put the butterfly in a cool room in the house, tucking it into a plant, and I returned outside to finish loading wood.

Back indoors I had forgotten about the butterfly until a few minutes later when it fluttered weakly across my shoulder. There are 23 windows in the house. The butterfly, with no assistance, chose the window with the Christmas angel on the outdoor sill. Even in its slumbering condition, the butterfly was hard to approach with my camera. I did get these few photographs and researched it in a small guide book from the Ohio Division of Wildlife, Common Butterflies and Skippers of Ohio.

Don't the photos compare well with the guide book? It is a Mourning Cloak Butterfly (Nymphalis antiopa) which has a 3-4 inch wingspan. It prefers wooded habitat near water; my wooded yard with the watergarden and creek is similar. The flight period is April to September and it is a hibernating butterfly. Late summer adults may live eight months which is longer than any other Ohio non-hibernating resident. The mourning cloak is often seen on warm, sunny, early spring days flying around and basking in wooded clearings. One of its behavioral traits is that it is hard to approach and photograph, which I found to be true even in its sleepy state.

Once I realized that it was a hibernating butterfly (what else could it have been, duh?), I returned this little angel to the outdoors, gently covering it with some leaves under the porch decking. This New Year visitor reminded me of how much I will always have to learn about the natural world. Maybe it will remind me again in April while it basks near me as I'm stooped in the watergarden, whispering to me, "You are four months into 2008; are you any wiser yet?"

That's optimistic, but.........wishing you an optimistic year too!

A Partridge in a Bare Tree

On the fifth day before Christmas, I loaded my truck to "give". Home-made wreaths were snuggled in the bed, teddy bears and dolls filled a big bag, and Christmas cassette tapes lined a basket. Yes, I was going to give all this away, but mind you, most of it was left-over. The wreaths were no-sells from my sale (see blog post below: A Tribute to Old Blue), the stuffed animals were like-new garage sale discards, and the Christmas music cassettes were replaced by CDs. No skin off my back except for the time I put into making the wreaths, a few supplies, and some bucks dropped at garage sales last summer.

I didn't know where I was going with this load except that I was thinking about people who had health issues piled on top of economic woes. The road I live on in the suburbs heads straight into the inner-city. The 12 miles should have been an easy drive, but I was feeling very uneasy. Where am I going? Why do I think people in the city would want these wreaths? Why am I afraid? Why do I feel foolish? Why in hell is it so hard to give to people that I am feeling something for? The only thing I liked about the drive was its sense of adventure.

Nearly a half-hour down the road I noticed a building with big letters on its side, something like Family Health Center. I turn into the parking lot thinking this is a really stupid idea. There weren't many cars in the lot and I didn't see a single person. Why am I here? "OK, just pull up in front of the entrance," something was directing me. "Now, get out of the truck," it persisted while I wanted to hide. So now what? There is still nobody around. "OK, walk around to the back end of the truck and put down the gate." I followed these silly directions while it seemed like I was the only person outdoors in the whole city that winter day.

Whoa!! The gate came down and the people came out... from buildings, cars, and taxi-cabs. I invited them to select a wreath assuring them that they were free. As they reached into the truck to pick out their personal favorite, I was stunned with their pleasure. In the urban greyness, these coils twisted with branches from my dying spruce tree and adorned with big red bows, looked magnificent; 100 times better than they had in my wooded suburban yard. These simple rings entwined with prickly spruce needles curved the complex, worried creases out of the recipients' faces and weaved them into awe-struck smiles. Meanwhile, the stuffed animals were shuffled through, finding new homes in the arms of gleeful young caregivers. I felt like Santa when a woman in a well-worn coat and missing her two front teeth came straight up to me with a specific request, "Do you have Oh Holy Night with no singing, just the music?" I filled her wish with a cassette tape that hadn't been played for years at home. In 10 minutes, even before the security guards arrived to see what was the flurry, everything was gone, gone in a hurry. How much easier can giving get?

What about receiving? Sometimes I feel hesitant about receiving---especially in accumulating more unnecessary stuff, and gifts perhaps given out of obligation. The parking lot wreath exchange was different. I joyfully accepted the unexpected robust hugs, the "God bless you, ma'am!" and "Merry Christmas" wishes. These givers waited in line, and I am not kidding you, to give me hugs! I made an enormous haul at this gift exchange.

So with the last bit of green from a dying, half-naked Blue Spruce tree, I drove myself into the scary woods of urbanocity. It was a poorly planned adventure, but very enriching. That's where true love gave to me......and I saw a partridge in a bare tree.

A Tribute to Old Blue

A Tribute Looking for Warmth


Self-serve Christmas Wreath Stand

Painting of Old Blue Guarding Our Home

Do you see the painting of the cabin above? Look at the tall Blue Spruce to the left of the door. That is the tree that has guarded the front door of our home since we moved in 26 years ago. It is one of the reasons why we bought the house. We use to bend beneath it's branches to enter the little cabin, our first home. It watched us bring home two new-born babies. It guarded their growth and all our family's activities to and fro, beneath it's wings, for 26 years. Early on, as the family grew, we added on to the little cabin, ultimately building a large home in a U-shape around Blue Spruce. We thought we were preserving it, but we may have helped contribute to its demise......building too closely and smothering it to death. We thrived, and it died.

Sadly, this week we had to cut it down as 2/3 of it had already died. Two tree specialists from Savory Tree Service in Toledo, Matt and Brian, did a great job dropping this 70 foot giant so that it didn't go through the roof or windows. I pruned the green branches and my husband salvaged firewood, determined not to waste any bit of this friend. (see middle photo....self-serve Christmas wreath sales stand on our side-porch). As the tree specialists held their chain saws over the last section of felled trunk, it dawned on me how to pay my respects to this oldster.

The image was clear in my mind. I ran up to Matt and shouted over the noisy saws, "Wait! Could you just leave this section lay as it is, and plane the top couple of inches off instead?" Matt was skilled with the saw and smiled when I invited him to do the chainsaw art. In five minutes I had an eight foot bench which nobody was going to move - ever! The trunk had homed itself right next to its stump, on an inviting angle to the front door. I further suggested that the remaining stump be leveled off. Now I have a table at one end of the bench!

In the spring when it warms up, I will sand the bench and table and protect them with a sealant.......maybe. What I really look forward to doing is sitting on the bench. I want to watch the tulips break through the earth near its base. I want to use its table to hold my cup and give thanks for the 26 years of wellness we've had as it stood over us. Maybe Old Blue will feel honored that my little bottom is warming its big heart-wood. Ya think?

Girlfullness Goes Whitewater Kayaking

Cheryl receiving instruction from Eric on the Youghiogheny River in SW Pennsylvania


Maria focusing on her next move


Cheryl enters the rapids with Tara coaching


Devin surfing a wave


Cheryl and Devin resting in an eddy

"Hi, I understand there is a whitewater kayaking trip this weekend.....I thought I might come along!," I playfully exclaimed as I entered my son Devin's classroom at Ohio University where he is a second-year student. It was fun to see the students turn in union with surprised expressions and chuckles when they heard this voice projected from the doorway. It was more fun to watch them rotate toward the front of the room in anticipation of how their professor would respond to this unannounced guest. It was most fun to watch this respected, middle-age professor at the head of the class stammer, "Well......well....well I suppose that would be alright."

This was not the scenario I expected when Devin invited me to come to class with him Thursday afternoon. Our plans to spend the weekend together got shipwrecked when he was required to attend a 3-day whitewater kayaking trip over Parent's Weekend, but we were satisfied with having Thursday afternoon and Friday morning together. I explained to the professor that I was just kidding when I suggest that I come along. He said he felt bad that he had planned this trip before he realized it was Parent's Weekend, and assured me that it would be ok since the class wasn't full. Wow! Now I am surprised!


Friday morning I did a one-stop shopping spree at the local thrift shop to outfit myself with water shoes, swimsuit, and non-cotton clothing. The professor, Mr. D, and his assistants had already loaded a kayak, paddle, helmet, skirt, wetsuit, life vest, and tent for me. I climbed aboard at 1 pm as a passenger in one of two vans loaded with students and graduate assistants. An unplanned adventure ahead....all because I dared to be girlfully playful! This youthful feeling was supported by the welcome I received by some of the students who were amused that I actually wanted to come. They laughed at the thought of their moms white-water kayaking. I did wonder to myself why there were only 2 girls in this class.

I had never been whitewater kayaking before but felt excited about expanding my skills. I had some experience in big water like ocean bays and Great Lake shorelines, but most of my limited time in kayaking the last two years has been in small inland lakes and slow rivers. Now I would get familiar with different styles of kayaks and kayaking, have a guided trip to another area of the country, receive hands-on instruction with talented and confident instructors, extend my camping season with a full moon to boot, and savor time with my son without cell phones and campus commotion.

We travelled to southwestern Pennsylvania and set up camp on the shore of the Youghiogheny River. Saturday morning we suited up and I was thankful that one of the female students, Cassie, who has taken a class before, offered me a special shirt to wear for warmth under the wetsuit. We spent most of the day on the river. We learned to ferry across fast water; to eddy-in where there was safe, quiet water behind boulders; to peel out or eddy-out into the fast, riled current with intent and focus; to surf a wave with finesse, not power; to use the hips, knees and paddles to face gaping, roaring holes; and most importantly how to muster the courage to face it all again after recovering from a few long seconds upside down underwater.

On Sunday we practiced it all again. Maria, another female student, had never been in a kayak before this trip. She rolled with the dozens of unintended Eskimo rolls, smiling more as she gained proficiency and confidence. I admired her courage. I was admired in turn by Tara, a female instructor, who complimented me on my efforts to try something new and thought it was so cool that I came along. I admit, I was scared alot, and often.

I am grateful to Mr. D for taking a chance on an woman whose skills he did not know, to the instructors for patiently sharing their expertise and keeping me and my son safe, and to my son, Devin, for his bravery not only on the river but also on land where he could have been ridiculed by his peers for letting his mom hang out with him all weekend.

Also I am thankful for the students' exuberant and courageous spirits which brought me a little closer to my own youthfulness. I am thankful for my general fitness which let me enjoy 3 days of unplanned activity and lead a 17-mile hike on Monday morning after 4 hours of sleep. This is a lot to be thankful for, but really, to play, like decades ago, in a brilliantly authentic and absorbing manner, with curiosity and courage..... this is the gift. This is girlfullness and its' spirit runs deep and clear. Peel out, girls!

Oak Openinigs Backpacking Opens Lives

"I have a problem, I never put up a tent before," confessed Darlene, age 56, on the other end of the line. I assured her that's what the weekend adventure was for -- beginners. Another caller asked, "What do we do if it rains while we are hiking?" My one word response "walk" hung in silence until this 47 year old decided she would check the weather again and call me back.
These were some of the concerns the women brought with them when we gathered Saturday morning, October 20, at Oak Openings Preserve (www.MetroparksToledo.com) to stage our two-day backpacking trip.
Eight of us, ages 12 to 57, met at the park and after a discussion about opportunities in backpacking, hostelling travel (the weekend was co-sponsored by Hostelling International, www.hitoledo.org), using Metropark trails for fitness and pleasure, safety, and the weekend's itinerary, we were fitted with gear. Two hours later, our packs fully equipped with tents, sleeping bags, pads, food, mess-kit, stove, first-aid and other supplies, we excitedly hit the trail fully self-contained. A short two-day trip meant we were only carrying 25 to 30 pounds each, but we did have longer average daily distances than what most beginners would attempt, 8 to 9 miles instead of 5 to 7 miles. This allowed us to complete the entire historic 17-mile scout trail plus an additional leg to our remote camping spot.
So how did it go? The mileage went fast the first day as we talked while we walked in order to learn about our new friends. After lunch at Evergreen Lake, the kids and one of the moms were climbing trees....a good indication that there was easily enough reserve to get to camp and set-up tents before dark. After pitching the four two-man tents in the pines, we built a cook fire. Burritos packed with black beans, rice, cheese and fresh cilantro were accented by candlelight for dinner and the campfire toasted our sticky dessert perfectly, enticing us to eat
"s'more". What was most eerie.....the coyote-like call in the nearby woods, the scary story, or the noise back by the outhouse?
There was less talking on Sunday and more focus on completing mileage. We took breaks while LaRae, a naturalist, spoke about the unique features and habitat of the globally-rare Oak Openings. Lunch put hikers flat out on the grass with bare-feet perched over backpacks. But no complaints! I'm proud of you ladies!
Everyone finished in great shape with a potpourri of memorable experiences:
Emma talked her mom, Barb, into sleeping without the fly over the tent so they could view the stars; McKinzie liked the gnome-home deep in the pines; Stephanie had the strength to carry extra gear for others; Darlene slept in a tent and sleeping bag for the first time; Mary still had enough energy to attend swim practice Sunday night; LaRae enhanced everyone's experience with her knowledge of the Oak Opening Preserve; and Cheryl? Well, I had another delightful chance to see women accomplish something they had never done before, and find themselves living simply and closely with the land. Oh, by the way, can you believe one of these ladies had never roasted marshmallows over an open-fire? Ah, the simple life!
Group photo around sign (left to right):
Darlene Dunn, Barb Cubbon-Beale, Emma Beale,
Mary Ensman, Stephanie Micham,
McKinzie Smith, LaRae Sprow, Cheryl McCormick

Frog Town

Lately I have been doing a lot of work helping home owners close their water gardens for the winter. The plants have to be cut back, debris cleaned off the bottom or drained completely, the filter and pump cleaned and stored properly, and the water garden covered with a net if there are a lot of deciduous trees nearby. This can be a mucky job and I guess that is one reason why people hire me. But I have been enjoying the work. The owners often help or visit with me while I work; sharing their lives, their gardens, and sometimes their homes and home-made cookies! But even if nobody is around I always have company.
Frogs. I can't believe the numbers. They don't seem too worried about me invading their habitat, and once they get accustomed to me will even come closer and watch me work. They are usually green frogs (rana clamitans melanota) but on occasion, if there is a nearby farm pond, I will find bullfrogs (rana catesbeiana). Last week there were 3 bullfrogs nearly the length of my boot in one pond, but I didn't have my camera with me to show you. The easiest way to distinuish between a green frog and a bullfrog, besides a bullfrog being nearly twice the size of a green frog (up to 6 in. compared to 2 1/4 - 3 1/2 in.), the green frog has two pronounced ridges down the length of its back. The green frog will utter a short, high pitched cry when it is disturbed and jumps. When I entered that pond last week with the bullfrogs, they stayed put and looked like baby alligator heads mixed in the lily pads and rocks.
The pond owners are delighted to have frogs in their backyard habitat. They usually have fish which they have purchased but none of owners have intentionally put tadpoles or frogs in their water gardens. So where do all the frogs come from? Well, Toledo isn't called Frog Town for nothin'! Toledo is in Northwest Ohio, site of the Great Black Swamp. This is a glacially-caused wetland, which has been drained and mostly converted to farm land in the last 120 years. There are still some natural swamps, marshes and creeks, plus miles of man-made drainage ditches and hundreds of farm, recreational, and drainage ponds. These all provide habitat for frogs and nearly every backyard is within 1/2 mile of one of these. Those rainy days and nights help the frogs migrate through wet lawns. Also, frog eggs may have been deposited by birds which visit the water gardens or attached to plants which the home owner purchased and placed in their water garden. The only complaint I ever hear about the frogs is that it sometimes is too noisy to sleep with so many frogs calling on warm spring nights. Wouldn't you enjoy staying awake for that symphony? I bet water gardeners in drought-ridden States would.