- I carried the 20-pound pack the whole 5 miles. I was pleased that I was capable of it and could leave Steve to only worry about his gun, knife and binoculars.
- We walked up on a wild boar at one of the feeders and he grunted and lumbered off into the woods. Too bad he didn’t stick around. Ahem.
- We repositioned a ladder and tree stand. Two hours of hard, hard work, mostly for Steve.
- Nature photography was KILLER. Lots of cool critters and such.
- DQ for lunch: we split a chicken finger basket, steak finger basket and large blizzard. Stupid good after sweating for 7 hours.
A few weeks back, one of my friends was talking about sweating outdoors, how mentally cleansing it is. Truth. I have had a rough week, of being sick on and off, of not getting in as much running as I thought I “should,” of eating too much peanut butter and bread, and of generally feeling not okay about myself, my body, my personality, my everything.
And then I go out and hike at sunrise under a smattering of blue and pink and puffy white and breathe the clean air from the pines and hear deer snort and gallop through the woods as we sneak up on them and I push my body up hills and over rough trails with ease and I feel calm and strong and GOOD right down to my soul. And all the silly thoughts of not being likable enough, thin enough, whatever enough become just that: silly, meaningless.
Woods days are the best days.