Tag Archives | feeling mental

Holiday Week Mush Brain Spew

This is a long one, people. No reason, really; I just found myself wasting time every so often this week and writing down random shit.

6:05 AM on Christmas Morning, and I was up as usual. 

No, I wasn’t waiting to gleefully rip through a giant pile of presents (although there was one with my name on that I had my eye on); I was up waiting for the freaking sun to start thinking about rising so I could squeeze in a few miles before we did the version of Christmas Morning you do when it’s just a couple and their 19-year-old son who is now thankfully way more into sleep than opening holiday presents.

Sadly, the sun wouldn’t be fully up until after 8, so that meant I had nothing to do but tend to the dogs, drink coffee, and look at the ever-declining interwebs until I had enough light for woodsy lumbering without a headlamp.

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Lumbers and Slackers

This week has been a weather rollercoaster of light snow, rain, and sun with freezing temps one day, spring-like temps the next, and snow amounts varying between our home near town and the trails out in the country before finally melting.

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The Bounce Back

After my First World mental meltdown concerning aging, being stupid, mobile phones, frozen Apple I.D. accounts, and realizing that I’m 52 years old, offer nothing to society and get the same in return, I said that I would bounce back like a fat kid through a trampoline. Well, I am happy to report that I bounced back and then some by lumbering over 30 miles in 5 days; to hell with the trampoline-breaking fat kid; this week, I was bouncing back like the glutes of Big Sean’s lady friend!

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The Best of The Worst

I got out on Monday for a 6.75+ lumber, half of which was done in a thunderstorm, and I have to say it was pretty magnificent. Plodding along through the dark woods with rumbling thunder and lightning overhead and rain pissing down shouldn’t be as fun as it is, but it is. And I only almost pissed myself once with fear.

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The First Year

I still don’t know how or why it happened; perhaps it was the medicine, continued therapy with the O.G. Mindbender, or the unwavering support of B and Wifey. Or maybe the universe just randomly flipped a switch in my mind that made me get brutally honest about the person I was becoming and helped me realize that I am not the sort of person who walks a mile and calls it a hike, eats whole deli hoagies for dinner, washes it down with four double IPAs1, and then spends the next morning staring at the ceiling, regretting every life decision I’ve ever made and one major decision my future parents made in the late fall of 1970.

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A 5-Step Program for Winter

This week, due to some home improvement duties, I was thrown multiple C-blocks in my bid to get in a 25-mile hiking week, but I somehow managed to get it done again in just four days, even with a couple days being 90˚ and humid before things cooled off. Hazah!

And with Labor Day and Fat Guy Summer now behind me and the days (actually 7 months) of darkness, cold temps, winter slop, and snow, if we’re lucky, around the corner, I have set my eyes on mental survival. Yes, I know that sounds hyperbolic, but that’s how my mind rolls: in extreme waves of perceived and actual misery, 24 hours a day.

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A Tale of Two Augusts

In August of 2022, I was just starting to feel more like my old self (the one who enjoys pushing himself physically outside, preferably in the mountains woods, and doing so without wanting to take a dirt nap), but still not there yet.

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The Hateful Eights

At the risk of violating my 2023 resolution, I have been deep into a late summer funk brought forth by my ongoing battle with heel pain, B heading back to MSU tomorrow, a burning hatred for half the country (and 95% of mid-Michigan’s population), and my long-perfected loathing for myself and my extensive list of shortcoming and failures as a man. 

Additionally, I have also been made aware by persons close to me that my lack of desire to “go out” for social interactions has become unacceptable. 

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