I had a loose plan to do my version of running on Thursday and found myself at the trailhead parking lot and ready to go at 7:45.
Sadly, my legs didn’t get the memo, and after about 30 yards, I said, screw this and slowed to a lumber.
As I lumbered across the bridge leading to the trails, trying hard not to get too angry with my uncooperative legs, I looked down and saw a fawn along the river just looking at me.
I could feel any anger and disappointment drain from my mind as I grabbed the only camera I had with me (a tiny, old-ass Cannon s95) and did my best to get a shot.
As you can see, it’s not great, but it captured the moment, and sometimes, that’s all you can ask.
Just as I was about to try another shot, I looked up to see a shirtless, 140-pound trail runner with his fucking dog tied to his waist hurling themselves down the trail in my direction at speeds that my aged, thick legs could not begin to comprehend.
OUCH! That was a blow to my long fucked ego, which was just fucked by heavy legs telling me in no uncertain terms that I am NOT a runner.
After I shook that all off, I continued to lumber along before soon saying, “fuck it,” and picking up the pace to a run. Not shirtless dog guy running, but 53-year-old, 200+ pound guy running.
Aperture Priority thankfully destroyed a mid-run selfie.
With that, I continued on a new 5-mile loop and alternated between lumbering and running for the rest of the time.
Of course, because it’s me, it was not without incident.
I was a little past the halfway point when I felt the tell-tale signs of a coffee-fueled “movement” coming on.
Lucky for me, the trail I was on was all downhill and would drop me right at the campground outhouse to get my business done.
In theory, that’s awesome, but with each speedy downhill stride I took, the bullet would drop a little bit further down into the chamber.
OH NO!!
FUCKING GRAVITY!!!
As I ran, I scanned the surroundings in case I needed to “drop trow” in a hurry.
RUN GAHDAMNIT!
I MEAN, CLENCH, GAHDAMNIT!!!
Finally, I was safely in the dark confines of the hot, smelly outhouse, pouring sweat, heart rate at 150 BMP, and breathing in the fumes of a summer’s worth of camper waste.
Soon, I was back on my way, with the lingering sting of cheap toilet paper between my cheeks. I also had a hunger for breakfast in my gut, and a mind filled with the blissful knowledge that there is a brand-new tube of A+D Ointment in the house that will need to be opened. STAT!
I finished the “new to me” 5.03-mile loop in 1:07:44. Not my best time for a 5-mile loop, but still only a few minutes off.
Considering I felt like shit at the start and took a while to get in the lumber/run rhythm, I’m more than OK with it.
After that, it was home to rinse the bug spray and the outhouse contamination off of me before breakfast and mowing the lawn.
I’m sure looking forward to sitting my ass in a chair on a shady porch with a beverage later with some music in my earholes.
Post -lawn mowing lunch: pasta with crushed “not my garden” cherry tomatoes, olive oil, etc., and a few olives. Phone pic.
Later.