It’s been ages since my last post, and I’d like to say that is because I’m out there living my best life with no time for this digital fish wrap. However, since even writing “living my best life” fills me with embarrassment and dread, we can probably assume I was not.
Last week was completely and utterly forgettable. The snow/freeze/thaw/freeze/snow situation only got worse, and the calluses on my feet that I was “this close” to being rid of became more painful due to my feet constantly adapting to the frozen and or soft and lumpy terrain. To quote my wife, “poop.”
As a result, I found myself housebound for a few days to mentally and physically prepare to get back this week.
I started the 2022 Not Dead Yet Comeback Special (now the 2023 Soil The Woods Tour) a little over five months and 540 miles ago, and I have to say, outside of some nagging injuries here and there, the past few weeks have been the hardest.
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.
My family and I are about to spend the Christmas holiday in our own home for only the 2nd time in the past 12 years. The first time was in 2020 when the world was balls deep into the COVID-19 pandemic, so there was little to feel good about. This time it’s ongoing dog boarding issues have prevented us from traveling back to Western PA for the holiday, and if you know me, my distaste for holiday travel, and my love of routine, you know I’m pretty stoked about that.
This week picked up where last week left off with more time in the woods with my camera.
In August, I wanted to start putting together hikes in the 5+ mile range and aim to do them at least four times a week. I thought it would fill a void between pointlessly “walking” on the Dreadmill and pushing myself physically like I do/did when mountain biking, all the while being in the woods with my camera. And I was right; it allowed all of that. However, forcing my more-out-of-shape-than-I-care-to-admit self to jump right into 5-mile hikes in the woods during the heat of August was not the best idea; my back paid the price, and I experienced multiple painful back spasms during those hikes.
The first week of Empty Nest Syndrome was everything I expected it to be and more. And by that, I mean that I had all the expected symptoms of missing B, but because Jason gotta Jason, I also threw in a few days of malaise, regret, self-loathing, ennui, self-flagellation (not the good kind), and learning to talk in the third person as I come to grips with now being what can only be described as virtually useless to society. I’m not sure why I needed my son to start college to point out the obvious again, but here we are.
Last week was a pretty sweet week of “doing stuff.” It contained multiple trips to the gym to lift heavy things for no reason and nearly 20 miles of hiking and creeping around the woods with my camera.
Then there’s this week.
Like Al Camus (not that one, the Al Camus that works at Marty’s Bar washing dishes) once said, “sometimes you have to look over your shoulder before you can fail.” And that, my friends, is why I am here today.
