As it’s been documented here, like so many other Americans, my mood has been quite bleak as I navigate my brain through the final days of the 2024 election and all the fear-mongering bullshit that we’re subjected to on a daily basis1. But earlier this week, I had some small interactions that really helped me out in a big way.
It’s been over two weeks since I wrote my last post, and the world is still spinning, so I can confirm that my near-daily blatherings and crap photos of my old guy micro-adventures are not what keeps it doing so.
Early Sunday morning, I drove in complete darkness towards the trails, wondering what the hell would make me do such a thing.
Then I remembered; I’m an idiot.
I fully admit my posts have taken on an opinionated, dark tone lately. This is not the person I’ve been working hard for the past few years to become, and I’m committed to trying to get back to my normal goofball shenanigans where for no good reason, I write about crap outdoor fitness activities done by a 53-year-old moron, and other stupid shit that nobody but me cares about.
— Management
I needed to get 4.75 miles in over the weekend to meet my 25-mile goal, and I am sorry to report that it didn’t happen.
After a day off from lumbering to take care of the lawn and staying out of the way of the road pavers, I was back in the woods Friday morning for a “run.”
I had a shit night of sleep, but after a cup of coffee and several “movements,” I somehow forced myself out the door as the sun rose.
After a relaxing weekend, I found myself back in the woods stomping out a 5+ mile lumber on an early, crisp, sunny autumn morning.
Thursday was a “celebration of me” (does rainbow hand gesture), but on Friday, it was back to reality and a 6-mile lumber through woods whilst hoping for good pics.
My trip to the trails was waylaid when I forgot my watch and had to turn around, all while dodging the tens of asphalt trucks that showed up in the neighborhood to repave our streets unannounced to anyone, including the guy who set the whole damn thing up, resulting in H.O.A. chaos. First-world problems, am I right?
On Wednesday, I got out for a low-key 4-mile lumber, mostly sticking to main paths, before coming home to cut the grass, which adds another 2 miles of walking behind a mower.
Despite the summer-like temps, the woods are becoming increasingly fall-like with each passing day, and while the fall colors are definitely better than the “brown season,” which lasts from November to May, I get a sick feeling in my stomach knowing the psychological torment that I’ll soon be putting myself through over the next few months as well as the omnipresent darkness that will spread over Michigan like a fat man’s nugget sack until the sun returns in May.
After Friday’s 10-mile lumber at Mid, I spent the weekend doing next to nothing. NOTHING. I ate lots of carby goodness, watched too much footy, and drank some excellent beer.
However, despite completing a week filled with many firsts for me (my fastest ever 5-mile run and completing my first 10-mile lumber), I found myself in an unexplained, deep, misanthropic funk on Sunday that I could not shake.
