Even by my extremely low standards, last week was not a great week in my world of quinquagenarian, repetitive, borderline autistic, outdoor fitness micro-adventures. Between multiple days of extreme cold and one day of bad luck trying to get to the trails, I found myself on the treadmill in the basement three times last week, including before the football started on Saturday morning. That’s three more times than I wanted.
With that said, my winter beer belly recently informed me that I needed to get back to running and high-intensity heart rate Zone 3 and 4-type shit, so I guess it wasn’t all bad. After a month or so of slow, wintry slogs, it felt good to see my heart rate hitting 160 or more during my intervals. And I didn’t stroke out and get shot off the back of the treadmill like a belt-propelled fatty turd, so that’s a bonus.
Despite a slight return on high(er) intensity stuff, it was three workouts and 9.03 miles of intervals that won’t count towards the 2025 Ignorance is Bliss Tour. But like Rip Taylor once said, “A calorie is a calorie, is a calorie, no matter how you burn it.” (I assume)
Come Monday, I was happy to return to the woods with my camera and bust out a 5.02-mile lumber on the mushy, snow-covered trails. Especially since the temps were a balmy 25˚, the sun was out, the sky was blue, and the calendar tells me that this is the last week of January. Screw January; long-ass, cold, dark, seemingly endless month of wintry, mind-fucking hell. Have I mentioned I don’t like January?
I also lucked out with a few bird shots today. There was a friendly photogenic black-capped chickadee, a rare shot (for me) of an eastern bluebird, and a shot of a red tail hawk from a distance that featured horrible light, and me scrambling a quarter of the way down a river embankment in search of a clear shot. None of the shots will win me any awards, but I still like the shots and the memories, of course.
I also got a shot of an ice shanty out on the water made from an old garage door. I’ve seen very similar hunting blinds, but this was my first recycled garage door ice shanty. Bonus points for properly displaying the name and address for the DNR.
Hoping the rest of the week cooperates and more miles are lumbered. If not, the basement treadmill is always there for me to sweat, spit, and nearly puke all over.
Later.