Tag Archives | journal-ish

Migration & Dark Thoughts

Dear Reader,

This post was written several days ago, and for that, I apologize. Both for the delay and for the ongoing shit content. I know there are roughly 1 to 3 people who wake up each day anxious to read about the ongoing exploits of a one-time crap endurance cycling junkie turned unfunny, chubby 51-year-old middle-class slacker white guy. 

The migration of this site to a new host did not go according to plan because I did the exact opposite of what the Tech-Heads were telling me to do at nearly every turn. I’m not very bright, but you know that. Hopefully, things will be back to normal in a day or six.

— Management

With that housekeeping out of the way, five days into the 2023 Soil The Woods Tour, five hikes are done. Praise the dogs!

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2022 Mental Recap

This is my last post of 2022. A year-end wrap-up post, if you will. Almost all of it has to do with crawling out from the rock of depression I’ve been living under for the past couple of years. Read if you want, or don’t.

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Stomps, Logs, and Fat

As I start this post in the morning darkness of the winter solstice, I have just cut a large Yule Log (the reason for the season?), and I am eagerly awaiting today’s very limited appearance from the sun before heading into the woods to burn some incense and get freaky with a nymphomanic Yule Goddess in celebration of longer days returning. 

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Silence In a Forest

This blog, website, journal, whatever the fuck it is, is holding on like the last elastical strains of Moscato-flavored vomit off a drunk sorority girl’s chin; for that, I apologize.

In all honesty, I should have put this thing to bed years ago when I realized my love for cycling, especially racing, was evaporating. However, if I sat around thinking of all the things I should have or could have done with my life, I would be a depressed, 51-year-old fat man living in the middle of nowhere-ass Michigan with no real career, dreams, desires, passions, or lusts left in the tank. Um, OK, forget that.

With all that said, I begrudgingly continue on for some reason.

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Thankful Lumbers

Holiday #1 in the Trifecta of Holiday Evil has come and gone without incident, as expected. Mostly because B’s schedule and dog-boarding issues prevented us1 from traveling 13+ hours round trip for the pleasure of me being riddled with enough sadness, anxiety, and resurrected childhood traumas to keep my mind racing in The Bed of Torment for the next 12 months again. Fuck that shit. Continue Reading →

Winter Walks & Hot Garbage

Last week was a snowy and cold one, but it felt great to be outside stomping miles through the woods rather than on a treadmill in the gym, going nowhere slow while trying to avert my eyes from the row of TVs in front of me beaming crap morning talk shows and right-wing news, as well as trying to ignore Karlee checking her booty gains in the mirror and Brice flexing his massive arms while disregarding the squat rack and his steroid-induced thinning hair which is offset by his ironic mustache.

Sure, I have abandoned Operation Peck Lift III and lost all my gains again, but I’m much happier outside, embracing shit weather, taking photos, and, let’s face it, pushing myself through the aches and pains that an out-of-shape 51-year-old doofus feels when hiking 4+ miles 6 to 7 days a week while attempting to stave off the depression that had me opting for hours staring a dusty ceiling fan (since dusted) while laying in the Bed of Torment wondering how one person could be filled with so much self-loathing, even on the nicest of summer days.

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