Honking of Own Platypus Alert!
Sunday marked the 6-month anniversary of the 2022 Not Dead Yet Comeback Special/2023 Soil The Woods Tour, and I, of course, celebrated with a short morning hike in the snow to put me at 600.95 miles hiked since September 19th.
Last week was completely and utterly forgettable. The snow/freeze/thaw/freeze/snow situation only got worse, and the calluses on my feet that I was “this close” to being rid of became more painful due to my feet constantly adapting to the frozen and or soft and lumpy terrain. To quote my wife, “poop.”
As a result, I found myself housebound for a few days to mentally and physically prepare to get back this week.
I started the 2022 Not Dead Yet Comeback Special (now the 2023 Soil The Woods Tour) a little over five months and 540 miles ago, and I have to say, outside of some nagging injuries here and there, the past few weeks have been the hardest.
In the wake of last Monday night’s horrific events in East Lansing, it was nice to have B back under our roof for a few days. It was also nice to let go of some negative emotions and rage by stomping out some miles in the woods.
After last Saturday night’s snowstorm and the forecasted SUN! and bitterly low temps, I knew I would have to adjust the lengths and expectations from the coming week’s hikes.
The more things stay the same, the more you want to drive to your local watering hole, hand them your credit card, and not leave until spring or your liver fails. Either way, it’s a win/win situation.
I sort of jest; despite the lack of sunshine, shit weather, and now the addition of 6 more inches of fresh snow on top of what we had, I have not been slowed down from my near-daily hikes and was able to hit my 25-mile goal on Saturday morning with a SLOW 4.5-mile lumber through the woods before the gamey balls of the latest winter storm arrived later that evening.
Wow, you gotta give January credit. As I type this shit on Sunday morning, it is, of course, still dark out, and of course, we are entering our 21st day of 22 featuring grey, sunless skies. Fuck January.
As we enter the second half of January, things remain dark, dank, repetitious, dark, and dank. Except for last Saturday, when the Weather Dogs actually blessed mid-Michigan with our first day of sunshine in 2023, 14 days into the new year. Of course, roughly 24 hours later, it was gone, and Dankuary continues on.
With my SSL certificate back in place, I think, THINK!, I have the website back up and running. As with most problems I’ve encountered in my life, I fucked enough shit up that I needed to ask for help; repeatedly until I finally got it sorted. It was like the parable of the leper and the unleavened bread from the 2nd season of Fraggle Rock. I think.
Last week was a snowy and cold one, but it felt great to be outside stomping miles through the woods rather than on a treadmill in the gym, going nowhere slow while trying to avert my eyes from the row of TVs in front of me beaming crap morning talk shows and right-wing news, as well as trying to ignore Karlee checking her booty gains in the mirror and Brice flexing his massive arms while disregarding the squat rack and his steroid-induced thinning hair which is offset by his ironic mustache.
Sure, I have abandoned Operation Peck Lift III and lost all my gains again, but I’m much happier outside, embracing shit weather, taking photos, and, let’s face it, pushing myself through the aches and pains that an out-of-shape 51-year-old doofus feels when hiking 4+ miles 6 to 7 days a week while attempting to stave off the depression that had me opting for hours staring a dusty ceiling fan (since dusted) while laying in the Bed of Torment wondering how one person could be filled with so much self-loathing, even on the nicest of summer days.
