This week was a fucking rollercoaster.
I’d rather have a life that consists of crazy highs and lows than to live at an unvaried average though.
On that note, clap for bacon!
Wednesday: 4 mile trail run
Friday: 2 mile walk
Saturday: 2 mile walk
Weekly total: 8 miles
TOTAL total: 83 miles
Ran on the “natural trail” at Fort Dickerson park, where some things apparently happened during the civil war. There was a sign describing why the park is important but I got burned out on history as a child from visiting too many museums and monuments and spending six hours at Custer’s Last Stand (which is just a giant field). So I can’t make myself give a shit.
I’d actually run on the greenway in the park before but had forgotten. The natural trail is a mile long and finding/using it was a little confusing. I mean, this is where the trail starts.
Do you see a trail there?
But it was a fun trail, and pretty easy. Most of the trails I’ve been running on are built by the Appalachian Mountain Bike Club, so thanks to those bros. I’ve started to notice that all of their trails have a bunch of bumps that seem to be intentionally built in, which must be a biking thing? It’s kind of fucking annoying.
I took it really easy on the run because of my knees. It felt great until maybe the last half mile, when my left knee started to feel a little sore.
The park has a cool little lake that’s from an old quarry that I’d also forgotten about until I wandered over to an overlook to stretch. Prettyyyyyy.
My knee felt fine until a few days later when I was biking and the soreness became a little more acute. This freaked me out enough that I decided to nix the five mile trail race I’d been planning to do on Saturday and I took the weekend off from working out.
My mood is highly correlated with how well my workouts are going. I’m just starting to realize the extent of this. I’ll feel on top of the world when running is going well, which was what it was like a few weeks ago, but then immediately become somewhat despondent and generally unenthusiastic when old (or new) injuries flare up. It’s difficult to have my emotions dictated by my body because how my body behaves seems to be completely out of my control, and I’m a control freak.
Because of this I’m getting increasingly better at listening to my body. I know enough by now that when particular spots are sore or the soreness is of a certain type, that I need to stop. But I don’t always stop when I need to because I’m stubborn and like to stick to my plans. I’m slowly learning patience and flexibility with workout plans, and recognizing that I’m developing valuable character traits helps me deal with the frustration from my injury-prone body.
I’m going to take it easy the next couple of weeks and just see how things go. And I’ll keep you well-informed about all of the tedious details, kind reader, don’t you worry!
The only other activity from the week that is worth mentioning is accidentally exploring an abandoned insane asylum.
My bf and I took a walk on Friday at Lakeshore park. Neither of us had ever been there before. About a mile into the greenway loop there was a junky looking brick building and we decided to peek in and see what was up.
In that window, we could see a gym, so we thought it was a high school. We walked around outside the building a little more and ran into some dead ends until we found a door that had been busted out that allowed for entry. So we played Ghost Hunters for a while.
Now, I would normally never encourage trespassing. I’m generally a law-abiding citizen (except for open container laws obvs) but there weren’t any No Trespassing signs. Besides, I’ve learned that you should never say no to an opportunity for a good story.
We didn’t realize how good that story was though. If I’d known it was an insane asylum, I might not have gone in because I watched too many horror movies as a child and am slightly traumatized by the paranormal.
Especially because this place, the Lakeshore Mental Asylum, is supposedly haunted by all the tortured patients that resided there. There are a bunch of stories on the Internet from people who heard screams, saw ghostly figures, whatever. I try not to believe in that sort of hokey shit, but the place is fucking creepy. I’ll let you know if I’ve been possessed from my asylum jaunt.
There was some good spray paint on the walls, but this most appropriately described how I felt walking through.