I was relieved to wake up on Friday with my knee continuing to feel good. It’s been a month-long journey of Googling, avoiding real doctors, and pain that appeared to finally improve by actually pushing myself harder and running.
I say “appeared” because while I 100% said “fuck it” and started running because it felt way better than hiking, I know that 1. that wasn’t the right thing to do, and 2. that’s PROBABLY not what improved it.
In recent weeks, I have evolved into skipping breakfast before my lumbers, relying solely on a big mug of coffee to fuel me, and saving actual breakfast for after.
I think it started during a heat wave a few weeks ago that had me trying to get into the woods as early as possible and sort of stuck. Additionally, there’s less chance that I have to make one of my patented Soiled Woodsy Dumps® because there’s not much in my gut.
While I wait for aging, hurt body parts to improve while lumbering, I continue to plod/run through the woods because, for some reason, that does not hurt. Well, it doesn’t hurt my knee.
Monday was finally a rest day from lumbering and attempts at running, and it gave me a chance to get some much-needed shit done around the CDSS, as well as do the grocery shopping, etc.
With Wifey still on a restricted diet of puréed foods after her surgery last month, I made a pot of White Bean Rosemary Soup, and she loved it. So much so that she was threatening to eat it for breakfast this morning. I talked her out of it.
With that major culinary win, I’m looking for more things to use my new emersion blender on that aren’t human orifices. So, later today I plan on making a black bean soup recipe I found. A happy wife and so much Cat 5 culinary winning; Quinquagenarian Sexy Time is a sure thing this coming weekend! But again, I’ve said too much.
The last needless post was way too long and written over several days, and I told myself that I’d vomited enough sophomoric wit and unsolicited opinions (my age is showing) onto your screens this week. But then, sometimes, shit happens. So, here we are. Sorry.
Monday afternoon was rough; my feetz and knee were not happy about my successful-at-the-time attempt to outrun some ongoing injuries earlier in the day.
Tuesday morning shit didn’t hurt any worse than the day before, but I opted not to lumber. Instead, I spent the early morning getting things done inside the Cul-De-Sac-Shack, and then I shifted outside to mow, trim, and sweat all over the lawn before finally collapsing in a gelatinous mass of sweat, fat, and throbbing plantar fascia.
After a nice 5-mile lumber on Sunday morning and a great birthday of footy, Jet’s Pizza, carrot cake, and hoppy beverages, I was eager to get back in the woods on Monday morning.
I’ve tried several times to write a stupid post about getting back on the trails for a few lumbers this week as I ease my hurtin’ feetz and knee back into bigger weeks, but it seems pretty pointless.
Earlier this week, I got a message from my brother to tell me that some tests my father had after a recent surgical procedure came back positive, and further, more intense treatment is necessary.
I don’t want to violate any father/son HIPPA regulations, so I’ll just say the news threw me a bit more than I thought, and I soon found myself going down a rabbit hole of beer, Euro 24 replays, and loud music to try to take my mind off of it.
A little over a month ago, with virtually NO experience whatsoever, I started the solo process of stripping and re-staining the deck of the Cul De Sac Shack and quickly gave up.
As I type this dross in the darkness of a rainy Saturday morning, I look back at a week filled with ups and downs.
