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.
And while, yes, I did hit the 500-miles hiked mark of The 2022 Not Dead Yet Comeback Special/2023 Soil The Woods Tour, that joy was dampened by the fact that I was only able to get a bit under 12 miles on the week, my WORST week of hiking since early September of 2022! Which made me feel much like the mystery dog shit I somehow get on myself whenever I assist the aged Jake (the dog) in the house from his twice daily dook drops.
I reached the point after Friday’s 4-mile hike; I said, “fuck it, I’m done for the week,” and chose to “rest” (AKA do nothing but watch the footy and drink beer) for the next two days in hopes that two days of much-needed sun would melt the ice-packed trails.
As I finish this, the sun is out, the temps are crisp, and I hope to get some much-needed miles in my brain; I know it sure could use it.
Later.