Content with my own thoughts in my own head
That’s because I thought you was dead.
Remember when I did three lumbers in a row last week, and I was stoked to be getting life back to normal and hopeful of hitting my 25-mile weekly lumbering goal for the first time in weeks? Me neither; it seems like years ago.
After just two lumbers and 12.21 miles, I have had my best week of hiking in roughly 3 weeks. That is no reflection on how good this week is going but more on how freaking bad the previous three have been.
The snow that we got Sunday night into Monday was completely gone by Tuesday morning, and the woods were back to their pre-spring meets rotting garbage palette of browns, blacks, tans, and greys.
I am quite used to dealing with large gaps for such things as my résumé, my memory, and the distance between pants buttons and their holes, but in my “fitness” calendar, not so much.
I know, the sentence above makes it sound like I am some whispy fitness junkie who has 2% body fat, runs like a gazelle, and eats like a bird. But as we all know, or should know, I fill my calendar with lumbers, snowshoes, hikes, walks, runs, and rides as much as I can to make up for the fact that I am a 53-year-old man who loves to cook, drink IPAs, and works like a dog just to limit my pounds overweight to 50 and to keep my mind centered and in the present rather than racing with self-loathing, doubt, depression, and anxiety.
Part I Things Got Worser
After nearly 20 years of writing this bullshit, I still don’t consider myself a writer. Mostly because I have zero formal training as one, and often, my posts are an unintelligible scrambled mess of thoughts. So, to say I have “writer’s block” sounds stupid, but I really have been at a loss for words this week, and I have tried writing this post about 4 times. Mostly because the past week has been a whirlwind of travel and, unfortunately, more sadness.
I skipped a lumber on Wednesday due to heavy rain on potentially still icy trails. I should have got on the magic Whoosh machine in the basement, but alas, I did not, ’cause fatty gotta fat.
After I got home from running some errands last Friday, I shut the garage door and didn’t leave the house again until 7:40 AM on Monday.
I have little desire to go out of the house if it’s not a hike, groceries, or beer shopping. I have little need for the American public, and the American public has little need for me. It’s your classic win-win sitch between a couple of assholes.
With temps already in the high 20s and an expected daytime high in the mid-40s, I knew trail conditions could be “iffy” on Friday morning, but with three good trainer rides already in my meatsticks this week, I really wanted to get outside for some miles in my feetz and hopefully some images on my SD card.
I know it’s hard to tell, but sometimes I do actually know a thing or two. Mostly just one thing, but still.
So, I admit, I took some pleasure in that one thing I know, being that the trails would be shit on Monday and Tuesday; thus, me stuffing myself into an ancient bike kit (the one that still actually fits) and riding the trainer two days in a row.
The week of outdoor lumbering thus far, and for the foreseeable future, has been completed on snowshoes, and with each day, my lumbers have gotten a bit longer.
It was 12˚ when I pulled into the lot for my snowshoe today, which felt like a gahdamn heatwave compared to yesterday’s 3˚. I know that doesn’t sound like much, but it really does make a difference to the seasoned lumberist. How much? Well, if we’re splitting hairs, about 8˚.
Moving on.
