I took the day off from hiking on Tuesday because I was maxing my time washing down the front porch railings in preparation for painting in the near future and mowing and trimming the lawn of the vast (not really) estate of the Cul De Sac Shack. So, come Wednesday morning, I was itching like a Lot Lizard’s gizzard to get out and lumber.
I hadn’t used trekking poles in 4 or 5 hikes because I didn’t want to rely on them too much in good conditions (even though they help my old ass feet absorb a great deal of force as well as provide stability as my head swivels around looking for birds and critters), but since I was itchin’ to get out for at least 5 miles at lumber speed and my heel remains semi-fucked, I used them today. I only mention this because while they did indeed help me achieve one of my fastest average paces (15m 32s average mile over today’s 6.20 miles), they did NOT help me from taking my first legit tumble of the ’22 Comeback Special and current Soil The Woods Tour.
Enter The Richard Simmon’s Wayback Machine1
I was quickly making my way uphill on a section of singletrack to some wider trail when I looked down at the top of my right hand, which features the remains of a large round bruise from when it accidentally hit the corner of the fridge door. I thought, “This is one of the major reasons I don’t ride anymore! I don’t need this black and blue shit! Blood thinners help me do enough damage just making dinner.”
***
More of that time machine shit…
Ironically, about .25 miles later, just as I was nearing the comical DANGER sign for the one and only “steep” sandy descent, I tripped over a root that I have walked, hiked, lumbered, ran, snowshoed, and sweat over roughly 260 times over the past year, and the next thing I knew, my 73″ long hulking body hit the ground exactly the way you think a 73″ long hulking white dude would hit the ground (imagine a sweaty, dirt-covered, bloated, dead dolphin dropped from a crane onto a gymnasium floor in front of a bunch of middle school kids).
I bounced up, assessed my injuries, made sure nothing fell out of my pack, and then briskly continued on until I was back up to certified lumber pace.
I was happy that I escaped without injury but disappointed that it slowed me down because I was trucking at a pace just under a run, feeling good, and on track for one of my fastest 6-mile lumbers, only to miss it by 26 seconds, roughly the same amount of time I floundered on the ground.
Having said that, I am pretty sure the previous record included some short stretches of running, so there is that. Today’s pace was all at No Photos Lumber Pace.
By the way, I have developed this handy chart so readers can grasp the modest levels of fitness we’re dealing with here. Feel free to print this and keep it with you at all times, just in case you need to consult it in an emergency.
THE 2023 SOIL THE WOODS TOUR PACE CHART:
NO PHOTOS TRAIL RUN IN SECTIONS PACE: 4.5+ MPH
NO PHOTOS LUMBER PACE: 3.9-4.5 MPH
PHOTOS LUMBER PACE: 3.5-3.9 MPH
PHOTO HIKE PACE: 3.0-3.8 MPH
PHOTO CREEP PACE (Not part of The ’23 S.T.W.T.): 0.01-3 MPH
SITTING IN A CHAIR DRINKING BEER AND WATCHING FOOTY: 0 MPH
DEAD (Could be part of The ’23 S.T.W.T.): ALSO 0 M.P.H.
It’s now over 24 hours later, and the bruising from the fall is starting to show, but no real pain to speak of unless I jab my finger into the bruise like I’m a fucking psychopath. With that modest good news, I got out Thursday in between raindrops for 4.5 miles at Photo Hike Pace [consult your handy pace chart here] to keep loose and burn off the turkey meatballs I made last night for some reason, even though every time I make them, I say I’m never making them again because they’re not that good and alternate between being too salty and too bland. I can do better, I have done better, but I’m failing my turkey balls. I give up; I digress.
I finally got some snapshots to post, so I can stop living like the gahdamn heathen I am and start living like the heathen I strive to be.
Later.
NOTE: Not my first rodeo of hitting the deck whilst lumbering/running. Also, I think I need a new hat, I’m still wearing the same one 5+ years later.
- The R.S.W.M. is not affiliated with Richard Simmon’s Nutrition, Inc. (that sounds like a thing, but I did make it up), It also looks like the yellow submarine on the old Beatles album sleeves and movie-type shit, but it’s pink and has a giant waterproof afro in the rear of the vessel. So, it sort of looks like an 80s-era dude-cock that I saw in a bootleg German “art” film when I was 19.