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Winter does something to me. Maybe it does something to you, too.
The shorter days, the gray skies, the hours spent inside — all of it presses on me in a way that builds slowly and silently. By February, I’m usually feeling it in my bones. The heaviness. The lack of movement. The fog that creeps in when my world becomes nothing but errands, chores, and the emotional weather inside my own home.
This year, the heaviness felt extra loud.
So I did what I’ve learned to do when winter starts swallowing me:
I planned an adventure.
I messaged a few friends, asked if they wanted to go snowshoeing, and put a date on the calendar. Snowshoeing is something I try to do at least once each winter — a reset button my mind seems to desperately need. And when a couple of friends said they were craving the same thing, it felt like the excuse I needed to get back into the mountains.
We chose Whoop Em Up Trail in the Idaho City / Lowman area — a local favorite for its beautiful views and peaceful winter forest. It’s also known for being a bit of a climb… something I was already anxious about.
The Story I Told Myself Before We Even Started
I went into that day absolutely convinced that I was going to struggle.
If you’ve ever read my post Why Slowing Down This Winter Might Be the Best Adventure Yet, you know winter asks a lot of my mental health. And part of that weight is the belief that my body can’t quite keep up anymore.
I was sure I’d be the one huffing and puffing, apologizing for slowing everyone down, and taking the longest breaks. Snowshoeing is already a workout… but snowshoeing uphill? That’s a whole different kind of test. I’ve done this hill before, a few times.
Still — I needed the outdoors more than I needed to protect my pride.
So we drove up to the mountains, bundled up, strapped on our gear, and began.
Finding My Rhythm (On New Snowshoes That Actually Helped)
The first steps of any snowshoe hike feel ridiculous.
Heavy. Clunky. Unnatural.
It’s like your feet forgot how to function.
This time, though, I had a new pair of snowshoes — a lighter, thinner model than my old ones — and I was curious how they’d hold up. Here are the ones I used:
Snowshoes: https://amzn.to/4a3RMBI
Winter Boots: https://amzn.to/4rKqarz
Jacket: https://amzn.to/4iQ3Toh
Right away, I noticed they made a difference. The bulkiness wasn’t dragging my legs down like usual.
The sky above us kept shifting in and out of clouds, that peaceful high-mountain gray Idaho does so well in winter. And as always, the cold at the start of the trail cut through all our layers — at least until our muscles warmed up.
There’s this rush you get at the beginning, a desire to start strong… and then the realization hits:
This is going to be harder than you remembered.
But something strange happened.
As we began climbing, I wasn’t struggling.
At all.
The Moment I Realized I Wasn’t the One Falling Behind
About a quarter of the way up, I turned around and realized something unexpected:
I was ahead.
Not by a lot — but ahead enough that I needed to stop and wait for my friends. They were laughing, breathing hard, cracking jokes about needing one more break, and I was okay. I wasn’t winded. I wasn’t fighting to keep up. I was ready to keep going.
But if you know me, you know this:
I always wait for others.
There was never pressure. Never annoyance. Never a sense that anyone needed to “hurry.”
We were in this together, and if they needed time, I was happy to give it.
Still, something warm flickered inside me — a quiet pride I wasn’t expecting.
This wasn’t the storyline I walked into the day believing.
Letting the Mountains Speak While I Waited
Whenever we paused, I did what I always try to do on the trail:
I looked around.
Not the half-distracted, “yeah, yeah, nature is pretty” kind of looking — but the kind where you actually let the place sink into your spirit. The snow clinging to branches. The hush of the forest. The wind pushing through the trees like it carried a message.
Being present like that feels rare in everyday life — especially for moms.
Someone always needs something. Something always needs to get done.
But on the side of that mountain, while my friends caught their breath, I let the stillness wash through me.
And for the first time in a long while, I felt light.
Reaching the Top — and the Sun Breaks Through
When we reached the viewpoint, the timing felt almost magical.
Just as we stepped into the clearing, the sun broke through the clouds, warming the snow and brightening everything around us. The view opened wide — that beautiful Idaho valley stretching out like a reward for the effort we’d just given.
This is why I came.
Not just for exercise.
Not just for a girls’ outing.
But for this — the reminder that beauty still exists even in the hardest seasons.
And physically?
I still felt good. Strong. Capable.
I wasn’t drained. I wasn’t hurting.
If anything, I felt ready for more — knowing the way down would be easier.
Laughing Our Way Down the Mountain
The descent always carries a different energy.
Lighter. More talkative. More joyful.
We found our rhythm again, laughing more, sharing stories, letting the tension of the climb melt away. The air felt easier to breathe. The weight felt less heavy.
I was proud of myself for doing this trail again — especially after doubting my body so much beforehand.
I was proud of my friends too. Whoop Em Up isn’t an easy snowshoe trail, and they stuck with it.
And we were all excited for the lunch we had planned afterward — because nothing hits quite like post-hike food.
If you’re new to snowshoeing in Idaho, you might love my post What Every Mom Should Know About Snowshoeing in Idaho where I share more tips and gear insight!
The Quiet Realization That Came Afterward
When we made it back to the cars, something settled inside me:
My body is stronger than I tell myself it is.
I always assume I’m going to struggle with physical challenges. Not marathons — just simple, everyday adventures:
A hike.
A paddleboarding day.
A snowshoe trail.
Every time, there’s a whisper of doubt:
What if you can’t do it this time? What if you’re not strong enough anymore?
And every time, I go anyway. I try anyway.
And I end up accomplishing it just fine.
It’s almost funny — how much evidence I have that I can do these things, yet the fear still creeps back in every time.
But that day on Whoop Em Up trail was a reminder I desperately needed:
I am capable. I am stronger than my winter brain believes. And choosing the adventure — even when I’m unsure — is always worth it.
If You’re a Mom Doubting Your Strength Right Now…
I’d tell you this:
The effort is worth it.
And you will be surprised at what you can do when you try.
Get outside.
Move your body in whatever way feels right.
Let the fresh air hit your lungs and remind you that you’re still here — still capable, still resilient, still you.
Because sometimes, the adventure isn’t about conquering a mountain.
It’s about discovering you were strong enough for it all along.
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