Are there things that you realize about your body that you wish weren’t so? I think that is true for many people. Aging causes some breakdowns, which makes us wonder “what’s happening to me??” But, there are also issues that some of us have dealt with all of our lives, not caused by the passing of time. For me, I wish I didn’t have a delicate digestive system that informs me loud and clear when I eat something that doesn’t agree with it. I wish I had a more robust respiratory system, so that I wouldn’t find myself using inhalers or nebulizers from time to time. I wish that my skin was not the fairest of them all, causing me to burn after brief exposure to the sun. And, I wish my toes could handle the cold.
Cold Toes, that’s me.
I remember, as a kid, playing in the snow. It didn’t snow often in my hometown in South Carolina. But, my grandparents lived in a small town in southwestern Virginia, in the Alleghany region of the Appalachian Mountains. When we visited them in the winter, there was a good chance we would see snow. As part of a silly tradition, we always called them and placed an order for snow, please, before we started the long car trip to their house. My grandparents lived on a steep hillside in the mountains, so, it was great fun to play in the snow, sledding and cavorting about. One year, we started building a big snowman in the front yard. My dad got creative, and started sculpting it into a more fanciful design, not the usual 3 snowballs piled one on top of the other. While he didn’t have a full picture in mind, he carved a little here, added a little there, and allowed my sister and I to help press and mold, until the snow creation was complete. It was so impressive that a local newspaper reporter stopped by and took a picture for that week’s News About Town. A few days later, when the paper arrived, we bristled with excitement. My grandmother, however, was horrified to read the caption “Snow Demon at the home of Mr. & Mrs….” My dad, who was a minister, was taken aback, but then conceded that his creation did, in fact, look kind of like a demon. Oooops, sorry we put that Snow Demon on your front lawn, Grandma. And, sorry that it’s not gonna be melting anytime soon!
Our Creation
The (unintentional) Snow Demon
I always had great fun in the snow, that is, until my toes got cold. That’s something I remember vividly--getting cold and coming inside the house to put my feet by the heater, while my sister continued to play in the snow. Me looking out the window and watching her play, hoping my toes would warm up. Wimp alert.
As I grew older, there were more occasions where I gave up on outside winter activities when I couldn’t handle the cold. To be clear, the rest of my body was fine, including head, hands, etc. In fact, I had, and still have, a propensity to overheat; I often peel off layers dramatically as I get way too hot when bundled up. I am a person who rarely gets cold, except for my toes. I learned that if I wasn’t able to get out of the cold, I had to do my best to tolerate the temperatures. Often, I was miserable. It took me a long time to understand what was going on. You see, my toes often have an extreme reaction to the cold. They might turn blue or white. They might hurt intensely or even go numb. I often can’t wiggle or move them at all. I realize, now, that things like that are not happening to everyone who is in the cold with me. My toes over-react to the cold in ways that feel unbearable, while other people’s toes are ok. I attribute the problem to poor circulation, and, I figure that my best plan of attack is to adopt the Scouting Motto or channel the dastardly lion Scar from Lion King; I try to
I wish that I didn’t have Cold Toes. But, I do. So, I have to deal with them. In winter, I think hard about the places I will be going, so I can plan for the inevitable. I bundle up with extra socks (although I have to battle my aversion to Tightly Squeezed Toes, which is almost as bad as Cold Toes.) I choose my shoes and boots carefully. I make use of Toe Warmers, which are activated charcoal packets which generate heat when placed snuggly in the shoe. I’ve learned to adapt to my Cold Toe syndrome so I can function semi-normally in cold weather, rather than giving up and heading back into the warmth inside. I’ve also learned that I’m not necessarily a wimp, because I have trouble handling the cold. If other people’s toes felt like my toes, they might be inclined to get out of the cold, too. It’s just that most people’s toes don’t feel like my toes. I mean, if your hair was on fire, wouldn’t you Stop, Drop, and Roll quickly to put the fire out? The other people standing around whose hair was not on fire wouldn’t consider you a wimp for fixing the problem that you, alone, faced, would they? Ya gotta do whacha gotta do.
Sounds like I’m real concerned about being called a wimp. I think that’s because I’ve always felt like I was a wimp because I didn’t like cold weather as much as some people. So, I’m here to reveal that there is a legitimate reason that I am cautious about being outside in cold weather. It’s my toes, man. Sometimes, they just can’t take it.
My Cold Toes became the star of another story; you can see the picture here, then read the story below.
Where We Were: Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado 
What We Were Looking For: Bull Elk
A few years ago, when I was a full-grown adult with four children, our family took a wonderful vacation to the Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. One morning, we got up during the wee hours, so we could hike to a location where we hoped to hear bull elk bugling at dawn. Even though it was summer, the high elevations and the early hour made for very cold temperatures. We were bundled up, but I hadn’t paid enough attention to my toes. Wet grass and freezing temperatures started getting to me. Right in the middle of the elk stalking, my toes let me down. I desperately wanted to find the elk, to hear their call, to take pictures of the adventure. But, my toes were cold, uncomfortably throbbing, but also numb. So, I did the only thing I could do--I cried. There I was, a grown-ass woman, with my husband and four kids, crying in the meadow at the top of a mountain. My toes really hurt. I couldn’t wait to get back to the rental house to rescue and revive them.
That story has become a part of our family lore. Remember when Mom cried on the nature hike? That’s ok, I own it. My thought is, Well, you would have cried too, if your toes felt like that! I have learned to accept my limitations—the things my body just can’t handle. Let me reiterate than no one ever accused me of being wimpy; I always just felt like I was being wimpy, when it came to weathering the cold.
So, my wrap-up is this: people are usually doing the best they can under their given circumstances. It’s ok to give people the benefit of the doubt, if you haven’t had a chance to walk in their shoes and feel how cold their toes really are. And, it’s ok to give yourself a break, too, when you have to deal with things that you would rather not have to deal with. We’re all doing the best that we can. Nothing wimpy goin’ on here.