Crawling out of Covid
“It’s like Groundhog Day!” people groaned in the early weeks of COVID. You know, the 1993 fantasy comedy in which Bill Murray is caught in an endless loop of waking up in Punxsutawney, with Sonny & Cher’s “I Got You Babe” playing. He repeatedly lives through February 2. His character takes advantage of the loopiness of his life to woo a woman; the same magic that stopped the clock starts it again once he’s won her over. He wakes up on February 3, a changed man.
To be honest, I like Groundhog Day - no, not the film particularly but the routine. My early COVID anxiety was because my old Groundhog Day groove - we’ll call it February 1st - ended so abruptly. March 13, 2020 catapulted me into February 2nd and I was disoriented.
I hated tamping down the terrain to create a new track. I missed the familiarity of my pre-COVID loop. COVID refused to let me “turn back time” though - just like Bill Murray, I was stuck with Cher’s earlier work.
Within three months, I’d tailored a new path. While Bill Murray experiments with different approaches to the day, my February 2nds have become reliable like the Swiss train service. I walk the same routes three times each day; I have daily chats with the same colleagues; I prepare the same breakfast, and offer myself have a narrow range of lunch and dinner choices; I order groceries monthly with biweekly produce delivered; I work the same hours each day; I have regular phone calls to a few friends and family; I retire and get up at same times day in, day out.
And I’ve liked it!
I’ve discussed my groundhog groove - nay, trench - with others. I’ve been amazed that some have lost a sense of routine during COVID. Without the structure of working in an office and regular outside events, they’ve drifted into calendar chaos, a scheduling schmozzle. Envy? Not sure. More a feeling of wonder that someone could survive much less thrive with that level of unstructuredness. Stress makes me create order from chaos.
So now - vaccinations are up, positive cases are down, and there is an expectation we’re moving on. I’m not sure I’m ready.
As an experiment, I planned a day I called February 3rd. Did I eat on a patio? Host a gathering of five (or more!!) people? Bring someone into my home? Hell no. I shifted my wakeup time by 30 minutes; I walked a different morning route; I ate a (slightly) different breakfast; I changed my morning stretching routine; and I drank my post lunch coffee in the middle of the afternoon. Nearly imperceptible but cumulatively huge to me.
I saved the most significant shift, however, to the evening. Four years ago, I started walking with a neighbour, casually at first, then regularly. Through COVID, the routine has solidified and the friendship with it. In the last 71 weeks, we have walked my dogs (6 feet apart) for an hour nearly every day within a two km radius of home. That’s a lot of trips down a few streets. We know all the high pedestrian and car traffic areas. We complain about people who get too close. We have eagle eyes for loose dogs — and skunks. We marvel at the same gardens and occasionally disagree on aesthetic choices. She humoured my inflatable Santa census in December. I’ve consoled her through the loss of one parent and the increased care needs of the remaining one. No topic untouched and most covered multiple times.
On my February 3rd, I suggested we get into my car - together and unmasked!! - and drive to a park 10 mins away where we walked. It felt like we’d been on a vacation. Huge. Like Punxsutawney Phil emerging to see a shadow hoping for only six more weeks of COVID.