On Monday, Jake The Dog’s veterinarian had a conversation with me in which she encouraged me to start thinking about Jake’s “current quality of life.” I’m pretty sure that almost every pet owner knows exactly what that means.
Given Jake’s hind leg issues, it’s a conversation that I have been expecting for some time now, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Friday always has that “I might get laid tonight” vibe to it, even though, for me, Friday night usually means drinking a few IPAs in my comfy chair, some crap white trash cooking, and in bed alone by 9 PM because there’s nothing to do that hasn’t been done before, nothing to watch that hasn’t been seen before, and nowhere to go that hasn’t already been gone to or sullied by the never-ending pandemic and its variants.
What was that I said about things staying the same?
So far, my September has been better than my August was, but that’s not to say that I feel all pantsless and fancy-free.
Last week was busy as hell and hot as balls. Luckily I still got out for about 15 miles worth of hikes in the vaginally humid woods since my previous post, and today (Monday), the heatwave finally relented, and I got out for a Standard Dirt Road Ride in the morning before the breeze kicked up too much.
The bank fraud-induced fog of worry and fret that I’ve been walking around in for two weeks is finally starting to lift. Just in time, too, because I was really starting to lose it, AND I have a million things to do this week!
I’ll deal with this week when the shit comes, but as for the past week, there were more rage/sad hikes, followed by finally getting back out for a ride in the hot, humid morning air on Saturday morning.
I got out Thursday morning for a ride, but it soon became apparent that I didn’t have it in me. I was riding right into a steady wind that combined with overnight rain and morning sun to make things an un-fun, sticky mess. I did 15 miles, and that would have to scratch my workout itch for the day.
This all seems very familiar to me. And by “this,” I mean writing a post about something I did 2 days ago and now having little desire to write about. And not just because it wasn’t that interesting!
Yet, I still write. Sorry.
My Monday was filled with all the business that Monday brings, so I was confined to the Dreadmill™ for 3 miles of lumbering and sweating my ass off to the latest techno “hits” featuring “a good beat that you can dance to,” all the while trying not to fall off the damn thing to become another sad A.A.R.P. treadmill statistic.
I was up at 6:15 AM on Friday to embrace whatever fresh hell moderate inconveniences the day might throw at me. It’s been raining for like three days straight, and when it’s not raining, it’s gloomy as fuck as if it were raining. So it took a few extra guzzles of coffee and the promise of sunshine later in the day to finally convince me to start thinking about possibly leaving the house to ride my bike.
WEDNESDAY 7:53 AM
I’ve been up since 6:30 AM, which is pretty normal since I usually go to bed by 9 PM these days. Oddly, it’s dark as night with threatening clouds leftover from last night’s thunderstorms, and I have a feeling it’s going to be like this for most of the day.
Given the rain overnight, I’ll be keeping my Roscoe and its new 29er wheels with low-profile Kenda rubber out of the mud and in the garage1. Instead, I’ve developed a plan to tackle 2 to 3 laps of the Bundy Hill Preserve, hopefully without being struck by lightning.
