After five days inside with my ass alternating between Whooshing on the trainer and relaxing on the couch, I was back in the woods on Tuesday morning for a snowshoe.
The -1˚ morning temps made me less than enthused to return to the woods, but it did warm up to 3˚ by the time my feet were on the trail, so I guess I shouldn’t complain too much.
Time to catch up on recent wintry slack and indoor living. Here we go.
Well, the weather goofs were not wrong, and we ended up with about 5 inches of snow last night. For the most part, it was light and easy to move but still a pain in the balls and enough to curtail this morning’s lumber.
After a less-than-desirable breakfast of coffee, “homemade” turkey sausage, egg whites, and a side of ketchup, I was off to the trails for another wintry hike.
I pulled into the lot, got my micro-spikes on, and as I was getting my pack situated, an eagle flew overhead while my camera lay on the seat of the car. I’ve been working on my negative thought process lately, but I couldn’t help but mutter, “Just my luck, why the hell do I always see an eagle when I have no chance of getting a shot??”
And with that “woe is me” attitude, I drug my ass down the main path from the parking lot and into the woodsy trails.
I was NOT in the mood to head out into the cold this morning. My bones ached, my joints creaked, my mind craved sleep, and my colon was a fecal-spewing trainwreck. No, I wasn’t sick; 53 just be like that some mornings.
Last week, I was able to hit my abbreviated winter 20-mile goal in four days, and then I once again proclaimed that the next three days would be spent alternating between time in the basement on the trainer/treadmill and the appropriate amount of recovery slack. One day out of three ain’t bad.
I was back in the woods for a lumber today, and I’m not going to lie to you; it was pretty much just like the rest of the week. Cold but moderate temps, snow on the ground, the sun behind the grey clouds, and my fat ass stumbling down the trail in search of miles in my feetz.
I will spare you any more details of another dull hike, but I will say I did hit my (abbreviated for winter) 20-mile weekly goal, and that leaves me with three days to hit the trainer in the basement and to slack as needed.
As previously mentioned, Monday was a mush-fest on the trails, and I was this close *does that thing where you pinch two fingers together to show just how close it was* to aborting today’s lumber and parking my ass on the trainer in the basement for some fake bike riding.
The easiest thing you can do to secure coveted slack status in the world of “doing stuff” outdoors is to not go outdoors. And I nailed that shit this weekend!
I think it might have something to do with my recently departed father, but I have been craving Hamburger Helper. I’ll explain.
Back when I was a kid in the mid-80s, the factory my dad worked at shut down, and he was out of work for two or three years as mill after mill in the Western Pennsylvania area closed. During that time my mother worked as a receptionist for a doctor, and my dad was put in charge of getting me dinner.
Chili, hot dogs, box mac ‘n’ cheese, chili, cheap fast food, frozen french fries, more chili, and, of course, LOTS of Hamburger Helper were all part of our weekly menus.
