As I sit typing this dross on Sunday, I am trying to put out of my mind that earlier this week, I hammered out 3 lumbers in 3 days and got 18.5 miles in on dry trails before we got hit with a Thursday morning storm that brought 4 to 5 inches of heavy wet snow; the sort that breaks snow shovels.
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.
The start of the week was awesome, with two 5-mile snowshoe hikes through the cold and snow. It was a great workout, and it felt awesome to be back outside after two days spent goofing off indoors
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.
Part I, Tuesday, 6:17 AM
I was up at 6 AM on Tuesday to tend to the dogs, drink giant mugs of coffee, make food, and slack around the internet in the dark, waiting for dark grey daylight sometime after 8 AM and a chance to get some miles in my feet.
It’s not the first time it’s happened to me, but this week, I once again suffered from Premature Mile Accumulation (PMA). Unlike more awkward premature “ations,” PMA leaves me feeling quite good about myself but similarly leaves me questioning, now what do I do, but with fewer sheepish apologies.
