For whatever reason, and for possibly the first time since 2005, I have found myself uninterested in writing anything about my long-running, mundane, pedestrian, unproductive life. But in the interest of knowing I paid my hosting bill upfront, I am here. So, I got some photos and some October stats—that’s it.
As I type, I am in the middle of enjoying (?) an “off day” from hiking so I could get some lab work done at the hospital. I am also in the middle of Week 4 of increasing my lumber mileage to 30 miles. Because if I can’t go faster (and I can’t, not yet), I must go further. Know what I mean?
The past two, now three, weeks have been busy as I’ve upped my weekly lumbering goal to a minimum of 30 miles [I have 23.49 in my feetz as of Thursday A.M.] until the snow starts flying. Of course, with the combination of the world burning itself down, climate change, and El Niño ’23/’24 in effect, who knows, I might be hiking 30 miles a week in February… in a Post World War III nuclear wasteland littered with ashen, lifeless bodies. NOTE: I am not sure how I survived; I credit beer pickling.
I had a good week of lumbering and took the time to tweak some standard loops with different trails to keep things fresh as we get further into the stank scrum of autumn.
Throughout most of the week’s hikes, I had next week’s appointment with Doctor Bob in my head, as well as the blood tests I needed to have done beforehand to check my cholesterol numbers.
After last week’s one-year anniversary of the ’22 Comeback Special/’23 Soil The Woods Tour, I continued on as normal, lumbering through the increasingly fall-like woods of central Michigan.
This week, due to some home improvement duties, I was thrown multiple C-blocks in my bid to get in a 25-mile hiking week, but I somehow managed to get it done again in just four days, even with a couple days being 90˚ and humid before things cooled off. Hazah!
And with Labor Day and Fat Guy Summer now behind me and the days (actually 7 months) of darkness, cold temps, winter slop, and snow, if we’re lucky, around the corner, I have set my eyes on mental survival. Yes, I know that sounds hyperbolic, but that’s how my mind rolls: in extreme waves of perceived and actual misery, 24 hours a day.
In August of 2022, I was just starting to feel more like my old self (the one who enjoys pushing himself physically outside, preferably in the mountains woods, and doing so without wanting to take a dirt nap), but still not there yet.
Monday
After two days in a row off from lumbering, I was looking forward to getting back into the woods on Monday.
I felt refreshed, and my feet felt great over most of the 8.03 miles. However, I did need to deviate deep into the woods at one point for an emergency evacuation of what remained of the morning’s mug of coffee and veggie sausage, egg whites, and cheese breakfast burrito. So, that was less than fun. I knew I kept that plastic baggie filled with wipes in my bag for some reason. Seriously, you would think going multiple times before leaving would be enough, gahddamit.
In response to my last post:
At the risk of violating my 2023 resolution, I have been deep into a late summer funk brought forth by my ongoing battle with heel pain, B heading back to MSU tomorrow, a burning hatred for half the country (and 95% of mid-Michigan’s population), and my long-perfected loathing for myself and my extensive list of shortcoming and failures as a man.
Additionally, I have also been made aware by persons close to me that my lack of desire to “go out” for social interactions has become unacceptable.
