The training is paying off. The pack is getting lighter. I say bah-humbug to Ecdelus and his
Law of Infirmity. In a mere week of focused effort, I'm beginning to feel a bit like my old self. My old, whole-disc self. I would never admit it to anyone, but Angel's Sadistic Physical Therapy regimen has probably made the difference.
It's been hot. I've been heading out at night. Altadena goes to bed after 9, but I have plenty of company as I clomp along with my backpack on the dark streets.
Monday and Wednesday are coyote night. They scamper merrily through the streets in gregarious groups sniffing for a tasty house pet. They couldn't be bothered with me. On Saturday and Sunday, the Raccoons skulk in and out of the hedges looking for a prize-winning yards to dismantle or maybe nice new turf to roll up. But don't dally to take in the action. Raccoons are very private and will hiss at you mean as rattlesnakes. Not so with the bobcats who are on parade every Tuesday. They are sleek and narcissistic and loved to be watched. Then, of course, those libertines, the skunks and opossums are out nearly every night looking for a good time. The opossums prefer recreational stimulants and tend toward paranoia. The skunks go for the laid back ingestibles. They are as unhurried as vacationers on balmy tropical beach. Now Thursday is special. It's the bears night out. Who can blame them. Friday is trash day and the pickings are the finest. Why just an hour ago I saw a mama and her cubs enjoying a sit-down at a 96-gallon trash container over on Pine Crest, and just around the corner on Mendocino, a big 400 pounder was licking a forepaw after an especially rancid repast. It's all very friendly. Share and share alike I say.
Tomorrow's forecast is cloudy. A good day to put more elevation in program. Humping 24-four pounds up to Idlehour Campground seems reasonable. If something gets funny, I can always moderate. I have air in my legs.
