On a recent wintry lumber, I created a new course in my head that I was sure would easily get me over 5 miles and provide some new stimulation for my eyes. I was half right.
The new course just barely got me to my 5-mile goal, so that was a bit disappointing; however, it did provide the appropriate amount of visual stimulation for picture takin’, so I’ll take it.
I’ve been thinking more about the trails I lumber on lately, and it brought back some memories. I’ll explain.
As I recently posted, Monday morning’s 6-mile lumber was an unusually warm one. However, a few hours later, the winds picked up, and the temps dropped as if they were blowing directly from the frigid teat of a witch (the one that lives in a shed just outside of Zama City, Alberta).
With that, Tuesday morning’s 6-mile lumber was a cold one and a full 20˚ colder than the day before. Ahhh… normality. Well, at least weather-wise.
Was it the worst best week ever or the best worst week ever? I dunno.
I’m not a fan of being right. Mostly because I’m usually right about bad things. But as William Shakespeare once said, “C’est la vie.” (I really don’t know if he did, but he may have, so just go with it).
It’s been over two weeks since I wrote my last post, and the world is still spinning, so I can confirm that my near-daily blatherings and crap photos of my old guy micro-adventures are not what keeps it doing so.
I knew going into 2024 that it would be the worst, and it hasn’t disappointed me in the least. That is why I nicknamed my near-daily hikes The 2024 Lumber Through Hell Tour.
Early Sunday morning, I drove in complete darkness towards the trails, wondering what the hell would make me do such a thing.
Then I remembered; I’m an idiot.
I needed to get 4.75 miles in over the weekend to meet my 25-mile goal, and I am sorry to report that it didn’t happen.
After a day off from lumbering to take care of the lawn and staying out of the way of the road pavers, I was back in the woods Friday morning for a “run.”
I had a shit night of sleep, but after a cup of coffee and several “movements,” I somehow forced myself out the door as the sun rose.
After Friday’s 10-mile lumber at Mid, I spent the weekend doing next to nothing. NOTHING. I ate lots of carby goodness, watched too much footy, and drank some excellent beer.
However, despite completing a week filled with many firsts for me (my fastest ever 5-mile run and completing my first 10-mile lumber), I found myself in an unexplained, deep, misanthropic funk on Sunday that I could not shake.
