Tag Archives | feeling mental

Learning To Tolerate Myself

I finished up last week with 22.56 miles of hiking and missed my weekly goal by 2.44 miles. However, I finished the week with some strong lumbers and occasional running. Sadly, by Sunday, my right foot said, “piss off!” and I was hit with some raging  plantar fasciitis.

Shit.

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The Things I Could Write

Dear readers, this post contains a LOT of my personal opinions on where I am currently at with cycling. I do not intend to talk trash about the sport, make you feel bad for loving it, or any such thing. I have dedicated a huge part of my life to cycling, and I love it. It’s a classic case of “it’s not you, it’s me.”

— Management

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Stomps of The Week

In the wake of last Monday night’s horrific events in East Lansing, it was nice to have B back under our roof for a few days. It was also nice to let go of some negative emotions and rage by stomping out some miles in the woods.

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Lockdown Pickups

Sometimes life comes at you fast. One minute you’re hiking along cussing a trail packed with ice that refuses to melt despite the 40˚ daytime temps, and 12 hours later, you get word your kid needs to hunker down in his dorm room with the lights off because there is an active shooter at large on campus.

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Miles on The Brain

I knew I would struggle to get 25 miles in my feet last week, but I didn’t foresee it going quite so poorly; melting snow followed by 24 hours of heavy rain, followed by a return to below-freezing temps, had the trails alternating between slippy mashed potato snow and solid ice that crushed and snapped underfoot as I trekked over them with mico spikes strapped on my shoes.

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2022 Mental Recap

This is my last post of 2022. A year-end wrap-up post, if you will. Almost all of it has to do with crawling out from the rock of depression I’ve been living under for the past couple of years. Read if you want, or don’t.

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Thankful Lumbers

Holiday #1 in the Trifecta of Holiday Evil has come and gone without incident, as expected. Mostly because B’s schedule and dog-boarding issues prevented us1 from traveling 13+ hours round trip for the pleasure of me being riddled with enough sadness, anxiety, and resurrected childhood traumas to keep my mind racing in The Bed of Torment for the next 12 months again. Fuck that shit. Continue Reading →

The Unforgiven

In August, I wanted to start putting together hikes in the 5+ mile range and aim to do them at least four times a week. I thought it would fill a void between pointlessly “walking” on the Dreadmill and pushing myself physically like I do/did when mountain biking, all the while being in the woods with my camera. And I was right; it allowed all of that. However, forcing my more-out-of-shape-than-I-care-to-admit self to jump right into 5-mile hikes in the woods during the heat of August was not the best idea; my back paid the price, and I experienced multiple painful back spasms during those hikes. 

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Empty Nests, Creeps, & Sharks

The first week of Empty Nest Syndrome was everything I expected it to be and more. And by that, I mean that I had all the expected symptoms of missing B, but because Jason gotta Jason, I also threw in a few days of malaise, regret, self-loathing, ennui, self-flagellation (not the good kind), and learning to talk in the third person as I come to grips with now being what can only be described as virtually useless to society. I’m not sure why I needed my son to start college to point out the obvious again, but here we are.

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