I woke on Tuesday morning at 5:55 to the soothing sounds of a steady spring rain falling. I flirted with the idea of preempting my 6AM alarm, farting, rolling over and going back to bed, happy to spend a little longer under the covers as the rain pelted the windows. Instead, I turned off the alarm, farted, and got out of bed.
Lola was fed, coffee was downed, dumps were taken, and soon I was on my way to the trails, eager to get some soggy miles in my feetz.
I had an excellent but busy weekend with B’s graduation and the celebration of said graduation.
The graduation was great, and bit overwhelming. There were over 1,300 grads just in the Com-Arts-Sci Department, and multiple other departments were having ceremonies all weekend long!
On Wednesday, I got out a 5.12-mile lumber and felt pretty good, other than some continued coughing fits left over from my seemingly endless battle with the flu, which I contracted a mere 28 days ago.
Other than a couple of birds, I didn’t see too much catching my eye to photograph, but as usual, I did find some woodsy goodness and nature nubbins here and there.
The weather people were calling for snow, rain, freezing rain, and high winds today, and they were not wrong. None of that stopped me from going for a lumber, but I was admittedly less than thrilled. Until I got in the woods.
There was an inch or so of wet April snow on the ground when I pulled into the empty parking lot to start my hike, and the clouds were hanging lower than an octogenarian’s tool bag as I set off down the park path toward the trails.
Content with my own thoughts in my own head
That’s because I thought you was dead.
Remember when I did three lumbers in a row last week, and I was stoked to be getting life back to normal and hopeful of hitting my 25-mile weekly lumbering goal for the first time in weeks? Me neither; it seems like years ago.
After three lumbers and 17+ miles this week, I was handed a bag full of warm feecus in the form of a mystery illness that knocked me flat on my ass late afternoon Wednesday, and as of Friday morning, it’s still knocking.
What started as some mild post-nasal drip reminiscent of some spring allergies had every inch of my skin hurting by late afternoon Wednesday, and I found myself in bed under roughly five blankets, trying to stay warm by 8 PM.
I can’t even wrap my head around the fact that at this time last week, I was en route from Michigan to my late father’s house in Pennsylvania to help my family clean out and dumpster the plethora of junk in it. Since then, I’ve come back to Michigan on Monday, found out my mother-in-law passed away that evening, returned to Pennsylvania on Thursday for the service, and BACK to Michigan on Friday.
The rollercoaster of emotions between two different family deaths and miles traveled has me feeling like I’ve lived five different years in one week.
Part I Things Got Worser
After nearly 20 years of writing this bullshit, I still don’t consider myself a writer. Mostly because I have zero formal training as one, and often, my posts are an unintelligible scrambled mess of thoughts. So, to say I have “writer’s block” sounds stupid, but I really have been at a loss for words this week, and I have tried writing this post about 4 times. Mostly because the past week has been a whirlwind of travel and, unfortunately, more sadness.
In the summers of 1999 through 2004,1 Wifey and I would drive from Pittsburgh to Colorado to ride bikes, hike, and goof off in the most amazing mountains my untraveled eyes had ever seen; the Rocky Mountains. It was quite the adventure for two Western Pennsylvania flatlanders who, during most of that time, lived in an apartment in what I think qualified as “the city,” given our proximity to traffic, tall buildings, and the sounds of nighttime gunshots.
After I got home from running some errands last Friday, I shut the garage door and didn’t leave the house again until 7:40 AM on Monday.
I have little desire to go out of the house if it’s not a hike, groceries, or beer shopping. I have little need for the American public, and the American public has little need for me. It’s your classic win-win sitch between a couple of assholes.
