Today, I finally hit my “normal” 30-mile weekly lumbering goal for the first time since the start of January.
The six weeks in between were filled with snowshoe slogs, gravel tramps, blizzards, wintry mental beatdowns, and too many beers, but it feels good to finally be back.
I don’t have many words to share, and rather than post these photos on Instagram, where they will never be seen, I am posting the photos here, where they will also never be seen.
Last week, as I tramped over the gravel roads, my gut feeling was that the local trails wouldn’t be completely bare of slippy, packed snow until Monday. However, since I only trust my gut when it’s hungry or has to poop, I attempted to hike those trails on Friday with meh-like results.
Fast forward here, please. >>>
I haven’t had what I’d call a “normal” lumber in the woods since the first week in January. The time in between has been spent doing the following:
It’s been a hell of a month, but such is life.
On Tuesday, I did my second Gravel Tramp® in two days, completing a 7.66-mile loop and taking way too many photos in a hair over two hours.
Unlike Monday, there was no sun, and the temps hung at just about freezing. I saw a lot of great stuff (like Amish school kids playing soccer at recess!!) and a lot of fucked up shit, as you will see further on.
I wanted to share a few more words than usual in the photo captions for this post, so the format is a little different. Also, there is a photo towards the end that is pretty graphic, so I have blurred it. It’s up to you if you want to click it or not.
14.70 miles of Gravel Tramping® in two has my legs a bit sore today, so no lumbering today. Just some attempts at home repair that may or may not result in me having a breakdown before I reluctantly call Al The Handyman.
Enjoy the photos!
Later
I’ve never thought of myself as Nostrafuckingdamus. Still, I know a little about a lot of useless shit. One of those things is knowing that despite the vast (not really) estate of the Cul De Sac Shack being void of snow and two full days of sun (yes, hours of sunshine for the first time since December, I believe), the woods and trails would still be filled with a mixture of melting mush and hard-packed slippiness.
I thought that January broke me on Saturday when I looked out the window, saw heaps of rain-soaked snow, and said, “fuck it, I’m ‘running’ on the treadmill.” I was wrong.
No, January would save the real breakdown for Monday morning’s hike.
Do you smell that? It smells like hyperbole.
– Me
I’m no good at this.
While you may think that I’m about to say I’m no good at this whole “life” thing, and I tend to believe I’m not, I’m actually referring to multiple days off from outdoor activities. In post-blizzard Michigan, during the longest, darkest, coldest, rope-to -the-fucking-attic month of the year.
It’s been four days since I was last in the woods, and it might as well be 4 months. While I know it’s near impossible, I feel like I’ve lost every shred of fitness I gained over the last 16+ months; my Instagram feed is set to be bombarded with ads for big and tall stores (again), and the brain that I have worked so hard to semi-salvage from a sticky web of depression and life-long self-loathing is set to go into shut-down mode and return me to the fart scented sheets of The Bed of Torment.
