As the old saying goes, 37.8 miles forward, 1 step back. Or something like that.
Tag Archives | sorry attempts at humor
Crazy From The Heat
I’m back! But sadly, I was never really gone.
The last post was me patting myself on the back for showing modest signs of normal human mental and emotional growth, along with realizing that I needed to give my right foot a break and attempt to recover from some ongoing plantar fasciitis.
Learning To Tolerate Myself
I finished up last week with 22.56 miles of hiking and missed my weekly goal by 2.44 miles. However, I finished the week with some strong lumbers and occasional running. Sadly, by Sunday, my right foot said, “piss off!” and I was hit with some raging plantar fasciitis.
Shit.
Sid and Nancy
Over the last few months, I have been stalking a duck couple (Sid and Nancy) that I see swimming in the nearby river and adjacent swamp areas during my hikes. I got a few photos from distance along the way, but nothing great.
Springing and Missed Shots
Wednesday’s hike was a wonderful 6-mile lumber with an average speed of 4 miles per hour; it was a great way to surpass the 800-mile mark in my ongoing journey by foot to find lost fitness and mental clarity.
OK in The End
So, close, yet so far away. Well, at least until Wednesday morning.
Finding Lando
Another week of mind numbing existence in the books, as well as another week’s worth of woodsy miles. And I have nothing to say.
Random Soilage Again
Ready to have your socks blown off with another volume of soiled randomness?
No?
Well, too bad.
Oddball Hikin’
It’s just after 7 AM on Sunday morning, there’s no football on for another couple of hours, and my weekly mileage goal as part of the 2023 Soil The Woods Tour was met roughly 20 hours, 4 beers, two failed chicken tacos, and one pre-bed peanut butter and syrup sandwich ago. So, with no better place to be— here I am.
Music, Bikes, and Blown Pipes
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.