Photo is NOT good enough, but all I got today.
The weekend consisted of one day of active rest and one day of absolute slack other than Sexy Time, and both were great. And when you add in the Chamois Mood Tax that was enacted during the first Trump administration, that brings it down to “pretty darn not bad.”
I only needed just 2.75 miles to hit my 25-mile goal for the week, so with no club football on,1Wifey and I went out to the Hall’s Lake Nature Preserve to stomp a few low-key miles.
Somedays, you just know something is going to hurt, and other days you don’t. I thought today would be just another “run” and be consistent with other recent runs. Sadly, it was much less than that. But it was still something.
I wrote a bunch of stuff today but deleted it because it violated the guidelines I’ve been TRYING to keep in place regarding the shit that goes on in my brain, aiming to keep me miserable. As the saying goes, “Not today, Satan. But I’m free tomorrow around 3; bring beer.”
Instead, let’s talk lumbers.
Once again, I was on the trail as the sun rose this morning, this time for a 5-mile “run” on my original run loop to gauge progress.
The temps were in the high 40s, and I debated on whether to wear long sleeves or not, but then I looked at my hulking body in the mirror and remembered how much sweat I put out. I stuck with the short sleeves.
It seems like yesterday (or six days ago) when I was so overheated and drenched with sweat that I needed to stop by a trailside artesian well to douse myself with water to cool down, and today it was 45˚ when I got feetz on trail as the sun was rising. Shit.
I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: it doesn’t matter if you have to go to work or school or not; Monday’s vibes are always shit.
