I’d always placed a premium on thrills when it came to exercise, whether that meant hiking a wilderness trail, jumping my mountain bike, or sighting a rare bird. Or maybe they end up sitting disused because of this: There’s nothing more boring, I thought, than a treadmill. (After all, I work for a company that tests and recommends all sorts of things, including treadmills.) I also knew that home treadmills often end up sitting disused and are later dragged out at garage sales, but are often left unsold because they’re so heavy and hard to transport. I knew that the treadmill was the single most popular fitness machine in America.
No biking.” For six months I needed something that would be low-impact and safe. “But it’s going to be a long and difficult recovery,” the doctor told me. And then, just walking down the driveway, I damaged my spinal cord so badly that another spill could have been catastrophic. I’d spent 20 years doing silly things in so-called extreme sports and had never been seriously hurt. In early January 2019, I slipped on the ice outside my house. What we were not going to do: trap ourselves at home, whether on the sofa or on what we viewed as a sofa that burned a few calories-an indoor exercise machine. We were going to stay active-cross-country skis and snowshoes, season-pass lift tickets and ice skates.
When my wife and I got to New Hampshire, we made a winter plan. In California, my life had revolved around the outdoors: walking the city’s hundreds of public stairways, hiking in the San Gabriel Mountains, biking along the Pacific coast.
In early 2018, I moved with my family from Los Angeles to rural New Hampshire. It was the moment I’d sworn would never come.
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