Here is another unneeded post about me stomping around in the woods with my camera for no real reason other than to stay active outdoors while exfoliating the depressive hunks of shit that often cling to my brain like barnacles on a 17th-century sailor’s unkept man-nubbins.1
It’s strange to me (not really) that when I am getting outside and doing stuff—in this case, near-daily hikes in the woods—I, of course, feel better physically and mentally, but I also notice that I blather less here. I know that is a win/win for all parties concerned, but strange to me nonetheless.
This in no way means that I plan to abort my woodsy walks or return to the Bed of Torment in the Chamber of Farts for the sake of something to write about because, let’s face it, it can be a tad insufferable, and while I personally might find it therapeutic in some way to spew out depressive word salad thrice weekly and post it for the whole world to read, it can be tiring and its value overpriced.
Last week was filled with near-daily lumbers through the woods with my camera, followed by a day off to let my 51-year-old body rest and recover; I was ready to get back at it on Monday and returned to Deerfield Park for a 4-mile hike in the cool, rainy woods.
The morning was dark with a rain that alternated between a steady drizzle and a refreshing misty spray that gave the woods a real Dagobah System feel (Google it, youngsters).
I spent the last few weeks moping around the house, letting my parts boss me into a state of misanthropy and apathy, but after some time with the O.G. Mindbender, a conversation with those pesky parts, and doing little things like avoiding the Bed of Torment for any reason other than sleeping and Sexy Time, I have bounced back harder than a Super Pinky off the skull of an annoying child. At least for now.
I usually try to get to the gym on Monday to lift heavy things for no reason and lumber on the treadmill; however, the weather was so perfect this past Monday that I just couldn’t bring myself to spend it inside Dysmorphic’s Gym™. So I headed to Deerfield Park for a hike/photo creep in the woods.
It’s been a while since I last threw anything up on these digital pages, so here you go.
After Wednesday’s 5-mile hike at Deerfield (my second within a few days), I was feeling pretty good about myself. “So what if I’m older, fatter, and ‘on a break’ from my bike? I can still push myself and have fun in the woods in other ways,” I thought as I drove home.
Monday was one of those days that got away from me, and I never got around to “doing stuff.” So, I told myself that I would force myself outside Tuesday morning for a hike no matter what.
In 2010, after moving to Michigan, I was looking for a quality point-and-shoot camera for my daily rides and to help with some video and basic photography for XXC Magazine. After much research, I ended up with a “prosumer” level Canon s95.
This post comes to you with all the enthusiasm of a blind man entering a strip club. Of course, based on some of the strip clubs I’ve unfortunately been in during the early “bachelor party days” of my life (looking at you, Hi-Way Playground in Washington County, PA, circa 1996 with your free stage-side pizza), that’s probably a good thing. I digress.
