I knew I would struggle to get 25 miles in my feet last week, but I didn’t foresee it going quite so poorly; melting snow followed by 24 hours of heavy rain, followed by a return to below-freezing temps, had the trails alternating between slippy mashed potato snow and solid ice that crushed and snapped underfoot as I trekked over them with mico spikes strapped on my shoes.
It’s been a nugget hair under 5 months since I traded my increasingly little used soiled chamois and/or The Bed of Torment for a pair of hiking shoes. In that time, I have grown to appreciate hiking (also known as walking if you’re not in the woods) in a way I never did before, and I now find myself in the woods hiking 4 to 5 miles a day, 6 to 7 days a week, with a modest goal of 25 miles per week minimum. Except for snow week curveballs like last week.
After last Saturday night’s snowstorm and the forecasted SUN! and bitterly low temps, I knew I would have to adjust the lengths and expectations from the coming week’s hikes.
The more things stay the same, the more you want to drive to your local watering hole, hand them your credit card, and not leave until spring or your liver fails. Either way, it’s a win/win situation.
I sort of jest; despite the lack of sunshine, shit weather, and now the addition of 6 more inches of fresh snow on top of what we had, I have not been slowed down from my near-daily hikes and was able to hit my 25-mile goal on Saturday morning with a SLOW 4.5-mile lumber through the woods before the gamey balls of the latest winter storm arrived later that evening.
Same day or a different day? Who the hell knows? It’s Thursday, but I thought it was Wednesday, which was yesterday, the day I thought it was today. It doesn’t matter because it’s cold, dark, and sunless for the 25th day of 2023’s first 26.
Wow, you gotta give January credit. As I type this shit on Sunday morning, it is, of course, still dark out, and of course, we are entering our 21st day of 22 featuring grey, sunless skies. Fuck January.
As we enter the second half of January, things remain dark, dank, repetitious, dark, and dank. Except for last Saturday, when the Weather Dogs actually blessed mid-Michigan with our first day of sunshine in 2023, 14 days into the new year. Of course, roughly 24 hours later, it was gone, and Dankuary continues on.
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!
I was in bed by 10 PM on New Year’s Eve, which is an improvement to last year’s un-celebratory events. And while there was still no “celebrating” of the new year due to me not really caring, my attitude seemed significantly better.
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.