I spent so much time moaning about winter and how it would never end that it’s taken me a while to realize that spring is here, and that summer is right around the corner. I’ve always claimed that I like living in a region with seasons, and this year I really tried to take advantage of what winter has to offer. I went to Jackson, N.H., in the heart of the White Mountains, and cross-country skied on the vast network of groomed trails there. I went to Lake Placid and went down the Olympic bobsled run, which is something I’ve always wanted to do. I made my usual treks to the Albany Pine Bush to ski. But eventually all the darkness and cold wore me out, and by March I was leading a pretty sedentary existence. It wasn’t quite hiking season, and the sun was still setting too early for me to feel comfortable going for long walks in downtown Albany after work. Though I managed to maintain my regular schedule of swimming at the Y in the morning, there were days when just getting out of bed felt like an extraordinary achievement. But spring finally arrived, as it always does, and a few weeks ago I realized it was time to dig my hiking boots out of the closet and start making plans.

This weekend I’m hoping to go on my first little hike of the season: Hadley Mountain, a short hike near Great Sacandaga Lake, in the foothills of the Adirondacks. Hiking Hadley in May has become something of a tradition. I’ve done it the past couple of years, and although it’s not especially challenging it’s a pretty good warm-up hike if you’ve been sitting on your butt watching movies for the past few months. As moderate hikes go, it’s one of the better ones. There are steep stretches comparable to a more difficult hike, and there’s a great view from the summit, which on a nice day is a perfect place for a picnic. After hiking Hadley, I always feel like I’m ready for something a little harder, and I begin to set goals. I’m not one of those people who wants to hike every single weekend — there are too many other things I want to do — but I do try to get out with some regularity.

I’ve hiked six of the high peaks in the Adirondacks, and I’m thinking it might be nice to hike four more this year. Last year’s highlights included Giant Mountain — I loved scrambling up the open rock, and the panoramic views of the Adirondacks — and the highest of the high peaks, Mt. Marcy, which I hiked on my birthday. (It was during this hike that I realized I’d reached the point in life where getting up early and going for a day-long hike is a far more compelling way to celebrate a birthday than staying out late drinking beer, which I took to mean that I’d officially become a real grown-up.)

Hiking contains its share of lessons, and just when I was beginning to feel like I could do anything, Dix Mountain knocked me back down to size. I climbed Dix in late September, when it was starting to get dark earlier and time was of the essence. Dix isn’t one of the more popular high peaks; unlike Marcy, we only saw a handful of hikers. It was a clear, sunny day, and when we stopped on the summit for cheese and crackers we were content, satisfied; Dix, we proclaimed, was one of our best hikes yet. But then things went awry. We set off down what we later realized was an unmarked trail to Hough Mountain. (“It seems right,” we told each other. “I mean, it’s a trail.”) We came to our senses when we reached the base of Hough, and were forced to turn around.

It was mid-afternoon; it would be dark in a few hours. Frantic, we raced back up the mountain; at some point, I tweaked my leg. Hiking became increasingly painful, and I wanted to stop. But about six miles of trail stretched ahead of us, and I realized that I couldn’t make a phone call and have someone come get me, and I couldn’t just sit on the trail all night and wait for my leg to feel better. I had to keep going, and so I did. One of my friends carried my pack, another gave me some Advil. We made it back to the parking lot around 9 p.m. I expected my leg to be throbbing with pain the next morning — I sent my editor a dramatic e-mail explaining that I might not be able to walk — but for the most part it was fine, if a little stiff. Dix showed me just how much you tax your body when you hike, and that a minor pain can become magnified and almost unbearable when you’re scrambling down a 4,800 foot mountain. To hammer the point home, a friend gave me a pamphlet, published by the New Hampshire chapter of the Appalachian Mountain Club, called “Don’t Die on the Mountain.” And I had to endure some lectures from my parents. They were so alarmed that I got lost and hiked in the dark that I didn’t even tell them I hurt my leg, but they read this blog regularly and I guess they know now. I await our next phone call, and the advice they’ll impart.

Anyway, I’m excited to hike this weekend. There’s a chance of rain, and so I’ll be monitoring the weather closely. But unless it’s pouring I’d like to hike, because it’s spring, and time to get outside.

The indictment of the wife and stepson of ex-Schenectady Police Chief Greg Kaczmarek over their alleged roles in a highly organized drug distribution ring made me wonder when my favorite television show, “The Shield,” on FX, will return. (Kaczmarek has not been charged in connection with the ring, but he can be heard on a wiretap while his wife speaks to alleged drug kingpin Kerry Kirkem.) The only reason I started watching “The Shield, which aired shortly after I moved to the area, is because Times-Union television critic Mark McGuire compared the rogue cops in “The Shield” to the ones making headlines in Schenectady. Hoping to better understand the dynamics at play in my new town, I tuned in. Almost immediately, I was hooked. I’ve since seen almost every episode, and I’m always eager for more. But I’ll have to wait a little longer. A quick search reveals that “The Shield” does not return until the fall, and by then I might be ready to rest my legs.

Got any hiking recommendations? Or harrowing hiking stories? Feel free to share.