Do you smell that? It smells like hyperbole.
– Me
I’m no good at this.
While you may think that I’m about to say I’m no good at this whole “life” thing, and I tend to believe I’m not, I’m actually referring to multiple days off from outdoor activities. In post-blizzard Michigan, during the longest, darkest, coldest, rope-to -the-fucking-attic month of the year.
It’s been four days since I was last in the woods, and it might as well be 4 months. While I know it’s near impossible, I feel like I’ve lost every shred of fitness I gained over the last 16+ months; my Instagram feed is set to be bombarded with ads for big and tall stores (again), and the brain that I have worked so hard to semi-salvage from a sticky web of depression and life-long self-loathing is set to go into shut-down mode and return me to the fart scented sheets of The Bed of Torment.
I’d love to be one of those people who can look out the window, see 14 inches of snow on the ground and temps in the single digits, and say, “I’m just going to relax, grab a blanket, a bulldog, get cozy, and read a book by the fire.”
That shit would last about 10 minutes before I realize I’ve read the same page 20 times, forgot what character was even speaking, and then soon find myself staring into a void filled with anxiety and the words of every person that has belittled me over my 52 years all the while wondering what the hell kind of man I am. I admire those who can, but I can’t. I’m not wired that way. Well, at least now, the years 2017 through half of 2022 I was content to be a miserable prick.
That is why, as I type this, my winter gear is out, and my snowshoes are locked and loaded for a stomp around Deerfield that could be anywhere from 30 yards to 5 miles.
UNSOLICITED, UNPROFESSIONAL BRO TIP:
For years now, I have been pre-loading my snowshoes with my boots so as to avoid struggling with gloves, frozen fingers, and finicky straps at snowy trailheads in frigid temps.
I wear sneakers or old boots to drive in, and then once I’m at the trailhead, all I have to do is slip into my boots, sure the straps up, and stomp on. To quote Robert Paul Champagne, “Try it out.”
PART TWO
I made it to Deerfield without incident and was, not unsurprisingly, the only car in the lot. I quickly slipped into my snowshoes and took off down the trail so as to warm up quick, something MUCH easier done on foot, than my days on a bike with the added wind chill.
I expected the trails to be groomed, but it seems there are still too many trees down for that to happen just yet. There were some ski tracks that some brave soul laid down, but, asside from a couple tight turns, it was easy enough to avoid them.
For the most part, I was breaking trail through deep snow and working my ass off just to go 3 MPH. Still, it felt amazing to be back outside, and despite the temps in the single digits, I was warm the entire time, possibly too warm on occasion.
I only did 3.71 miles, but it felt great, and I still managed to burn a shit-ton of calories. I’m hopeful that as I continue to lay down tracks, it will become slightly easier in the coming days, and I can go a bit longer.
One great thing about having been doing outdoor activities for so long is that I’ve built up quite a wardrobe of gear, mostly from my cycling days, but it works just the same, and I’m glad I didn’t throw it all out in a depressive rage a couple years ago when I realized that nothing fit anymore and the extent of my outdoor adventures were nothing more than easy photo walks.
Today’s gear featured a Trek cold weather cycling jacket, a Bontrager (Trek) wind front base layer, Giro winter gloves, and Craft wind front XC ski pants. While the pants are not “technically” for cycling, I used them for years over bibs for winter riding.
The only thing that I forgot was the fact that I used to wear lined bibs under them, and today, all I had on underneath were my man gutchies. I was warm enough, but I couldn’t stop thinking about when my XC ski friends would talk about “tip burn.” Thankfully, I wasn’t out long enough for that to happen, but I think I’ll go ahead and wear some lined tights under them next time. I mean, you only get one penis.
Today’s photos (except the unneeded selfie) were taken with an old as shit Canon s95 pocket digital camera that I bought in 2010 or 11. So tiny, so old, so crap in 2024, but for some reason, there are days that I still want to use it. And every time I do, it makes me wish I would have gone Canon for my mirrorless cameras.
Later.
THE SOILED SOUNDS TRACK POD OF THE POST
No music today, but I am deep into Season 1 of the Lost Hills podcast as I work my way backwards through seasons (3 and 2 were excellent).