This Land is MY Land

OK. I have a childish mentality sometimes. It's not very often that I let myself lapse into this mode, but every winter it comes back when the snow falls.

During my lunch hour I usually go to a local nature park to walk the trails. It's not that I really enjoy it but I know that with my family history it's essential to my health. My doctor told me it could prevent a future heart attack or the diabetes that runs in my family.

I do enjoy spring and fall, however, when the weather is cool and the snakes aren't out yet. My one major phobia is snakes. It drives me nuts when people assure me that the local snakes are not poisinous. I don't care. They still slither around and startle me when they're in my way. I'm constantly looking ahead on the path to see if an S-shaped object is in my way. I have to stop an assess the situation to see how I can get around the vile creature without having it taunt me. Anyway, I digress.

The first year I walked in the winter I noticed that most of the trails were only open to cross-country skiers. I would walk on the pee-wee trails that allowed walking but these paths were tiny. I'd have to go around and around to get in my 2 miles. It was then that I decided to get snowshoes.

That first year I was able to go on two more trails that allowed snowshoeing. This worked well although these trails were also quite short.

The next year I discovered that these paths too were closed to snowshoers. I had enough of these cross-country skiers with their skin tight pants and nordic knit hats. I felt like a second class citizen with my puffy ski pants, my ten year old puffy LL Bean parka and my clumpy snowshoes. One day I went inside the building to talk to a naturalist. I'm normally not an assertive person but I found it necessary to confront this abomination.

"I'd like to speak with a naturalist, please", I said confidently to the woman at the front desk, rising to my full 5 foot 1 inch height.

A few minutes later a man came over and introduced himself. Again, I got my nerve up.

"I've been walking here for quite some time now but I'm not happy. When I first noticed that most of the trails did not allow walking in the winter I spent a lot of money on snowshoes. Now most of the trails don't allow snowshoes either! This is ridiculous! You rent snowshoes here but there is nowhere to go! What are we supposed to do? Why do the cross country skiers get all of the good trails? I pay my membership fees every year but I can't go on most of the trails in the winter!!!"

The naturalist listened attentively, seeming to be unsympathetic to my ramblings.

"Well", he said, "once we groom the trails for the cross country skiers we can't have anyone walking or snowshoeing on them because they ruin the trail. It's hard to ski when the trail is rutted."

I think he expected sympathy from me for these poor people. Heaven forbid their sport be ruined by those of us who prefer a different type of exercise.

"I went out last year and bought these snowshoes so I could go on more trails", I exclaimed, "but now you're telling me I can't go on them. Just what are we supposed to do?"

The lady behind the desk smiled and said, "You can go on this trail around the meadow. That's open to walking and snowshoeing!"

"I'd have to go around the trail four times to get the exercise I usually get on my favorite trail!"

She looked at me sympathetically. "I'm sorry," she said, "but that's the only choice right now".

I had enough. My face was turning funny shades of red and purple (just kidding) and I raised my voice again. "You mean to tell me that I spent all this money on snowshoes to go on the trails, which you encourage, and now there's nowhere to go???
That's crazy! Is there anyone else I can talk to?"

The naturalist calmly told me, "No, I'm the one to talk to. I'm sorry, but there's nothing else to do. I am considering making a dedicated trail to snowshoers next year so they have somewhere to go."

I wanted to tell HIM where to go, but I left leaving quite unsatisfied. The rest of the winter I silently circled the meadow over and over again. The next winter I saw a sign.

'This trail open to showshoers ONLY' with a sign pointing the way. I must say it was quite a nice trail. It went through the woods, down hills, across meadows and back to the parking lot. The trail is two miles long and gives me a great workout. Unfortunately the evil child in me still exists.

My trail criss crosses the cross country trails at several points. When I have to cross THEIR trails I can't help but stomp on the smooth ski tracks. It won't kill them to have a bump in their way. It's really pathetic that I get such satisfaction in their misery.

I still feel like the red-headed stepchild when they look at me behind their sporty sunglasses and fashionable winter garb. But I know that when the snow melts I can take back what is rightfully mine. My favorite trail will be glad to see me again and all the interlopers will be long gone. That is, until they run past me in their $200 running shoes and tank tops.

I guess I'll have to share.