As I folded clothes on Tuesday afternoon, I got a message from my friend Steve. He and I worked at the bike shop together a few years ago. He lives about 20 minutes south, and said he had an appointment in town on Wednesday mid-morning and wanted to know if he could tag along for a bit on my lumber before.
Steve is a great guy, and of course, my first reaction was 100% yes. But then I had to think for a minute.
As I readied myself for this morning’s lumber in the lot of the park, the Soobie belonging to the Two Aging Hippies and their geriatric dog pulled in.
As I pulled into the muddy parking lot today, I swore that I would not use microspikes for the day’s lumber. There is just no way! Screw it, I’m done!
As with most of 2026, last week was pretty crap for lumbering, with only 3 lumbers and a mere 13.78 miles in my feetz. I was pretty down about it, but there were some signs to be positive about.
Real flowers, sun, and green grass type spring is about 7 or more weeks away for mid-Michigan, but there has been a real uptick in critter activity, and many birds are returning to breed. While 23˚ and 13 MPH winds are not my type of breeding weather (I tend to catch a chill when breeding outdoors), the birds don’t seem to mind, and it really is a sign that the critters are just as ready for spring as I am.
After a few days spent with my slack turned blissfully up to 11, I woke up Monday morning with not one ounce of desire to lumber on what were either going to be extremely slushy trails or extremely icy trails. Either way, I knew I didn’t have the brain power to deal, so I didn’t. Giving up is so easy, I really should get back into the routine.
Fast forward to Tuesday morning…
Sometimes you miss a goal, and sometimes that is just fine. Such is the case this week. I missed my “normal” weather goal of 30 miles of lumbering in 5 days. I also missed my 20-mile Winter Contingency Act goal, coming in at 18.88 miles in 4 days. But as I said, I’m fine with it.
For roughly the 10th time in the past 3+ months, I let Winter beat me down. And for roughly the 10th time in the past 3+ months, I have bounced back like a body tossed from the top of the Empire State Building.
After a 45-minute treadmill lumber on Friday, the weekend came and went, and featured all my favorite/tolerable indoor winter-time activities, including a come-from-behind 2-2 draw for Spurs against City. It was swell.
After making breakfast, cleaning the kitchen, and seeing Wifey off for a day in the office, I collected my gear, opened the garage door, and saw a steady snow falling.
I wasn’t thrilled to be driving as it snowed (part of the aging process, I suppose, like sporting large tufts of ear hair, unkept eyebrows, and sagging scrotums tucked in socks), but a quick look at the radar showed that it should be over soon.
With that, I took off like a herd of turtles, and as I was nearing the park, the bright orange sun was now rising over the trees in the farm field to my left, and was made more luminous by flakes in the air. I couldn’t help but stop on the empty dirt road to admire the glow and snap a pic.
After 72 hours without leaving the house, I embraced returning to the cold, snowy woods to lumber like an obese dog to a pile of its own vomit, complete with half-digested sock. It was pretty OK.