Literally no one said it couldn’t be done, and I did it. Because it’s really not that hard—I got my 30 miles of lumbering in for the week in 5 days. Now I have the weekend to goof off, watch footy, and go photo creeping.
And while I knew I would get my 30 in, given how I felt a couple of the mornings, I didn’t think I’d do it in five days this week, nor did I think I had four 6+ mile lumbers in me, but here we are. Like the saying goes, “You can’t keep a fit but fat man down.” (unless he strokes out or shoots a heart valve across the room like a bullet).
I needed to hike a minimum of 6.46 miles today, and I finished with a Belzabob-approved 6.66 miles and a pentagram burned into my forehead by a random Satanic High Priest name Jeff that was hanging out by the river looking for animals to sacrifice and sweaty fat guys to brand with fiery metal tools fresh from his makeshift kiln built from rocks.
I’m pretty sure I would have come damn close to missing my goal if it weren’t for a couple of random women walking a dog on the outer trail. Mile 5 had just ticked over when, to my displeasure, I could hear voices up ahead. SHIT!
Since I was in no mood to do an awkward walking pass or chit chat with strangers, I hung a right up a steep sandy hill and did a hunk of trail that I hadn’t planned on doing. I’m pretty sure doing that extra hunk ensured I’d hit my 30-mile goal. Plus, I got to work on my sagging glutes.
I got some pics, but as you see, they were mostly of deer. The first two deer pics are of mom and her two fawns along the riverbank. The fawns ran into the woods, and Ma stayed behind to give me that “don’t fuck with my kids” look. Not great photos, but a cool look at the family life of deer. While I dig deer, I’m a little burned out on them. How about throwing me a bone in the form of a rabid coyote thirsty for blood or something? Let’s shake this shit up a bit!
Later.
THE SOILED SOUNDS TRACK OF THE POST
Sadly, American Sharks disbanded a good while back, but the music lives on. Despite their demise, whenever I’m in the mood for garage rock/stoner metal, I still find myself cuing up American Sharks.
Today’s song, Satan’s Overture Part I, is in honor of me somehow hiking 6.66 miles on the nose today. Plus, listening to this song at loud volumes distracts folks from staring at that fresh pentagram branded and still smelling like burnt flesh on my forehead.