I entered this past weekend with all the excitement of a death row inmate, shuffling down the hall towards their fate with hands and feet bound in chains. And the weekend did not disappoint.
12 days ago, I came down with the flu, and 7 days ago, my fever broke, leaving me feeling better—NOT great, but better. Since then, I have got back to lumbering in the woods and got 25+ miles in last week, which felt great, but those forays outside tended to be the peak of my daily physical exertions, and after completing my errands and Cul-De-Sac-Shack duties, I would end the day completely wiped out, and ready for bed well before 8 PM. This trend would continue through the weekend, but with no lumbering, just sleeping and sitting in my chair watching footy. Even beer tasted like shit!
Of the weekend’s 48 hours, I never left the house, and I estimate that well over half the weekend was spent in bed. It felt wonderful to rest and sleep, but it felt quite humbling to be resting so much because a random germ entered my body 12+ days ago and has refused to fully let go. NOTE: at times, I’ve imagined that when we die, we’ll get to find out in the Big Book of Germs just who and what got us sick at various times in our lives. “Ohhh! March 14th, 2025, I got the flu, and it was caused by a trucker at a rest stop (the one who drove the truck with the saying “From the Titty to The City” hand painted on the back) who took a shit, didn’t wash up after, and put his germ/shit covered trucker hands all over the building’s front door. I digress.
A week ago, I was stoked that my fever broke and took the aches and chills with it, but I would be lying if I said I felt 100%. Still, I feel better than I did 12 days ago, so I was ready to start another week of whatever the trails and Ma Nature throw my way. All the while occasionally coughing up remnants of phlegm that may or may not have tasted like No-Doze, trucker feecus, and the STD remnants of a $10 Lot Lizard.
After close to 13 hours of sleep last night, I was on the trails at 7:40 AM as flurries spat down from above, and despite my “not feeling 100%,” I actually found a bit of spring in my step and my mile times were back to where they are for normal, healthy, non-winter lumbers.
The woods were cool and damp from a weekend of rain and thundershowers, and the once frozen and crunchy mud was now soft and silent underfoot. Sadly, despite my stealthy lumbering, there was little to photograph, but I lucked out during the last half-mile when I saw an Eastern Towhee (Pipilo Erythrophthalmus) flitting around some budding brush along the trail.
The Eastern Towhee is one of my favorite birds to spot and photograph, but sadly, they only really visit during the spring breeding season before heading back south.
I also dig the Eastern Towhee because seeing them around the woods and river means that spring is near, and at some point in the next two to twelve weeks, I MIGHT be able to do things like wear shorts or go outside in just a shirt.
I’m hoping for continued improvements in health and lumbering in the week ahead.
Later.