Day: March 14, 2025

Now… we sit. We stare out the window. We ponder the meaning of life, the unpredictability of the weather, and whether wearing three layers indoors is a sign of wisdom or just giving up.

Maybe we lean into the madness… bundle up, step outside, and act like we actually enjoy the so-called “refreshing” air. Or maybe we surrender entirely, burrow under a blanket, and let the weekend sort itself out.

Either way… we remain gloriously undecided.

Then…

On this day in history:

• 2023: Rolling a Fattie on the Oregon Coast – Mo (Snuggles) and I cruised our fat bikes along Cape Lookout’s stunning dunes—pure coastal joy on two wheels!
• 2018: The Finer Things – Mo and I savor the elegant pleasures of life, from romantic dinners to carefree adventures, wrapped in laughter and candlelight.
• 2017: Sickness and in Health – Despite waking up sick, I powered through pull-ups and wood chopping. Mo was feeling better, reminding me that vows cover every sniffle!
• 2016: Down to 2 – Slimming down the bike collection to extremes: fattie and cross bike. Saying goodbye to Gonzo and Askia—hello gravel grinder adventures!
• 2014: Honestly? – Admitting my listening struggles and introverted honesty that sometimes confuses others. Blogging to the rescue!
• 2013: Missoula Bound – Another trip to Missoula? Yep! Cue internal dialogue and dramatic reasons for yet another commute adventure.
• 2012: Long Slog: Winter Dangers – Tonight’s ride symbolizes life’s tough journeys, supporting a friend through surgery and the emotional rollercoaster ahead.
• 2010: Clearing The Ridge – Revisiting my cycling photography from 2009, including the iconic shot “Clearing The Ridge” captured during a perfect autumn ride.
• 2008: My ‘Team’ Kit – Payday means racing license renewal! Sponsorship? Nope, just proudly racing as Team Solo this season!
• 2006: Spring Break Continues … – Still riding high on Spring Break vibes, writing from Break Espresso—adventures (and ski stories!) abound.
• 2004: 2004 EFTA Race Schedule – The race schedule’s here! Check efta.com and prepare for an exciting cycling season (fingers crossed for minimal changes!).
• 2003: TGIF – Celebrating Friday’s arrival with Town Meeting breakfast and camera-day excitement. Cheers to the weekend!

Back in the mystical land of ’04, I found myself perched on the edge of destiny, with the “2004 EFTA Race Schedule” (link) in hand. Picture me, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to etch my name onto the unforgiving terrain of cycling lore.

Zip through time to 2006, and you’d catch me in “Spring Break Continues” (link), soaking in the afterglow of adventures. It was me, my thoughts, and a canvas of possibilities—blissfully adrift in the sea of my own creativity.

By the time 2008 rolled around, “My ‘Team’ Kit” (link) was the saga of me, myself, and I. Sans sponsors, I strutted the path of the lone ranger, fueled by a quiet pride and the thrill of independence.

The plot thickened in 2010 with “Clearing The Ridge” (link), where I nailed a photographic mic drop that captured the raw essence of my cycling escapades—a frame frozen in time, shouting my love for the sport from the mountaintops.

Enter 2012, “Long Slog: Winter Dangers” (link) threw me into a reflective journey through life’s rugged terrains, side by side with my community, battling the elements both metaphorical and meteorological.

2013’s “Missoula Bound” (link) was a plot twist, a period of deep soul-searching where every turn seemed to whisper secrets of the universe, urging me towards unexplored territories within and beyond.

Come 2014, and “Honestly?” (link) peeled back layers of my psyche, revealing the quirky undertones of my communication in the intricate dance of social interactions—a candid exploration of my essence amidst life’s grand orchestra.

The narrative pared down by 2016 in “Down to 2” (link), where life’s clutter gave way to clarity. It was just me and my two wheeled companions, a testament to the beauty of simplicity, reflecting the core of my cycling spirit.

2017 brought “Sickness and in Health” (link) into the spotlight, showcasing the resilience of the human condition, a narrative on the enduring vows of partnership, tested and fortified in the crucible of life’s trials.

“The Finer Things” in 2018 (link) had me basking in the warmth of life’s simple pleasures, an ode to the moments that stitch the fabric of our days—love, laughter, and the shared beauty of existence with my beloved Mo.

The crescendo came in 2023 with “Rolling a Fattie on the Oregon Coast” (link), a vivid tapestry of adventure and natural splendor, a reminder of the boundless joy and discovery that awaits in the embrace of the great outdoors.

Reflecting on this kaleidoscopic journey, from the adrenaline-fueled starts of races to the contemplative silences, and traversing through landscapes both internal and external, a universal truth emerged: life, akin to cycling, is a dynamic expedition. It’s not solely about the destinations we reach but the appreciation of every heartbeat, every challenge, and every triumph along the path. Ultimately, it’s the ride that counts—a ride marked by resilience, curiosity, and the unbreakable bonds of love and friendship. And if there’s one insight to carry forth, it’s that our saga is woven not just from the milestones but from the countless, precious moments in between, each pedal stroke a chapter in our ongoing tale.

I feel I have a listening problem. Which is why I feel introverted and not very proficient at communication. To make up for these deficiencies I blog and always, when trapped in a social situation, blurt out full disclosure things. Like how I feel. Sometimes this absurd honesty is misunderstood. But what ever.

“So what do you want to do today”, my partner asked me one morning as we were packing the car. I thought about it. Honesty or something diplomatic? A snow shoe or a epic multi day trudge over a mountain range carrying our bikes?

“I kind of want to ride the fat bikes all day. Maybe even bivy out in the snow. Wake up frozen and ride to warm up. Maybe even ….”

“Lets do a short ride at Chief Joseph”, she interrupted be knowing full well to never ask that question.

Ah, the eternal inner dialogue: “WHAT! AGAIN?” Yes, indeed. But as I meandered through my morning commute, an epiphany struck amidst the hum of the engine—cue the dramatic soundtrack. And now, as my other half incredulously inquires, “WTF… Drive?”, I plead for silence. Let’s lay out the canvas of my reasoning, shall we?

Firstly, the dreaded car journey was a necessary evil due to my tardy awakening. The agenda post-work demands a session of indoor perspiration—yes, a workout. So, to the voice in my head bemoaning this choice, I say, “Go smooch a kite”—eloquence in defense of my schedule.

Now, to the crux of my reasoning that emerged as dawn broke: Friday beckons with the promise of adventure. Awaiting the arrival of my bumper, courtesy of Fed Ex, marks the beginning. Ah, the bumper—a victim of a Bozeman snow bank’s wrath—is finally on its way to redemption.

Once the mechanical steed is whole again, why not whisk my Turner to Pipestone for a swift dance with the dirt? And given the proximity, Missoula whispers my name, suggesting a visit. A fool, you query? Nay, an adventurer at heart, caught in the web of logistics and longing for the open road and trails. So, to my other self, doubting and debating—let’s embrace the journey. Am I a fool, or simply a soul yearning for the call of the wild, wrapped in the practicalities of modern life? Only the road ahead holds the answers.

Tonight’s ride was a profound metaphor for life itself. This Friday, I’ll be hitting the road to support a friend through surgery, marking the start of a challenging six-month recovery for them. The thought of their swift shift from an active lifestyle to enforced stillness is heart-wrenching. I can only imagine the whirlwind of emotions they’re experiencing. Sure, there’s the parallel of rehab to training—both require dedication and hard work, though the former, I suspect, carries a heavier emotional weight.

My ride tonight began as a testament to perseverance. I chose Olsen Creek from a list of snowmobile trails, greeted by muddy conditions that had me questioning the feasibility of my journey. As I progressed, the snow’s embrace reassured me, reminiscent of the initial denial one faces after an injury—clinging to a sliver of hope that things aren’t as dire as they appear.

However, the trail soon mirrored the harsh realities of accepting and adapting to life’s curveballs. My bike faltered, sinking into an unexpectedly deep rut, a clear sign that my journey—and perhaps my denial—needed reevaluation. Unlike my friend, who bravely faced their reality with immediate action, my instinct has always been to shy away from seeking help, preferring to wait out the storm.

The trek became a mixture of riding and trudging, each step a reminder of the setbacks and small victories that define recovery. Despite the challenges, the journey offered stunning views of the Bridger Range, culminating in a thrilling descent—a reminder of the beauty and joy that perseverance can unveil.

My adventure on snowshoes tonight brought back a decade-old memory, highlighting the indispensable value of the right tools in navigating life’s challenges. Snowshoes transformed my journey across the crusted snow of Baldy Mountain, allowing me to traverse with relative ease, though the ridgeline’s rocky outcrops presented their own dangers.

Navigating this rugged terrain, I encountered a harrowing moment—a literal cliffhanger, saved only by the fortuitous snag of my gear. This experience was a stark reminder of the precariousness of our paths and the unexpected twists that can quickly alter our course.

Standing atop Baldy Mountain, amidst howling winds and swirling snow, I reflected on the day’s adventures and the parallel journeys of recovery and exploration. It was a moment of gratitude for the ability to move forward, a celebration of resilience in the face of adversity.

This ride, like life, was a testament to the power of perseverance, the beauty that lies beyond the struggle, and the unwavering hope for a stronger comeback, both for my friend and myself.

Welcome back, photography aficionados and cycling enthusiasts, to yet another chapter of my 2009 photo anthology! Today, we’re rolling out the red carpet for a snapshot that’s earned its stripes and a permanent spot in my “Cycling” photo collection—introducing “Clearing The Ridge.”

Snapped on the sunny afternoon of September 27th, 2009, precisely at 1:29 PM, this moment was captured through the lens of my trusty Canon PowerShot SD1000. Ah, the good ol’ point-and-shoot days!

“Clearing The Ridge” is more than just a photo; it’s a nod to the annual pilgrimage to Sheep Mountain—a journey that’s as scenic as it is fraught with the unexpected. It’s like Mother Nature’s own roller coaster, with twists and turns that can sometimes serve up a bit more adventure than you signed up for. Case in point: the year one of our fearless riders, Dave C., gracefully conquered Wishard Ridge, while the rest of us basked in the sunshine, lost in the breathtaking vistas.

On a slightly related note, I bumped into Ed S. just yesterday—yeah, the same Ed who had a bit too close an encounter with the mountain last time, leaving with a souvenir of smashed ribs. Glad to report, it was his first MTB ride of the year, and we took it as a chance to hone our skills, aiming for a “Sheep Mountain” expedition this year that’s notably less eventful in the injury department.

As for today’s agenda, I’m venturing up route 12, bracing myself for a splash or two (or maybe more) courtesy of the melting snow from the mountains. Who knows what picturesque scenes await?

Till next time, catch you on the higher trails!

Ah, the sweet siren song of payday echoed through my life today, and what did I do? I marched right out and renewed my racing license. The quest for sponsorships this year? A resounding echo of crickets, my friends. So, here I am, flying the flag for Team Solo (a.k.a., the self-sponsored warrior).

In a valiant effort to stretch those dollars, I scoured the earth for the most wallet-friendly racing jersey known to mankind. And voila, to your right, behold the glorious ensemble. Found a steal on Price Point for a cool 30 bucks (link omitted—still a bit salty they ghosted my heartfelt sponsorship plea).

And let’s not overlook the pièce de résistance—the team bottoms, also courtesy of Price Point. Yes, my derrière will be gracing the most budget-friendly piece of fabric out there. Fingers crossed my backside outlasts the durability of these bottoms. On the bright side, racing results under USA Cycling will list me as Un-Attached, a fancy way of saying I’m flying solo without any team or club ties. A shoutout to all the underdog racers out there—surely we deserve a discount on these license fees, right? If only that $90 fee hadn’t been a barrier, I might’ve joined a bike club instead.

But hey, no use crying over spent cash. The season is upon us, folks! So here’s to the thrill of the race. Bring it on—the track awaits us!

Spring Break Saga Continues…

So, imagine me, just vibing at Break Espresso, my phone turned face down (apologies to the almighty Gmail deities, but it’s content creation time, baby!), soaking up the vibes of another epic week gone by. Oh, those skiing tales I teased you with earlier? Strap in, my friend, because the ride just escalated to new heights of crazy—and, dare I say, comedy gold.

We made our grand return to Lolo Pass, and folks, the sunset was nothing short of a Bob Ross masterpiece—think majestic golden skies and shadows performing a ballet on the snow. It was like glimpsing Mount Fuji through the lens of a ski aficionado’s dream. Words like “breathtaking” barely scratch the surface. ✨

But then, the plot thickens. Mid-descent, my boot decides to bid adieu, snapping in half and leaving me as deflated as a party balloon post-celebration. Major downer, right? But, in the spirit of when life hands you lemons (or, in my case, rebellious ski gear), you make lemonade (or perhaps venture for a hot spring adventure instead).

So, with a “let’s roll with it” attitude, we set our sights on Idaho’s hot springs. Picture the scene: Jerry Johnson Hot Springs, under the cloak of night, following a half-hour trek through the wilderness (because, apparently, relaxation must be earned), and WHAM! We’re suddenly extras in a scene that could fit snugly in a Coen brothers flick. There’s this woman, battling the sub-20 chill, in a comedic struggle with her attire. Suffice it to say, these hidden oases come with their own brand of entertainment.

Awkwardness quickly gave way to bliss as we melted into the warm embrace of the hot springs, our earlier troubles (and perhaps a sneaky snowflake or two) dissolving into the steamy air. Capping off a day of serendipitous twists with a possible elk cameo near Elk Meadows (because on-the-nose naming is just part of the charm, right?).

In short, spring break keeps delivering the unexpected, and honestly, I’m here for all of it. Keep your eyes peeled for more escapades (and fingers crossed for fewer boot catastrophes)!

Oh, the thrill of the 2004 EFTA Race Schedule has landed! Dive into the digital realm at efta.com to get the scoop.

The schedule’s out, and it’s wearing the “tentative” tag like a badge of honor. We’re not anticipating a rollercoaster of changes to this lineup. However, keep your eyes peeled – as the season’s starting line approaches, we might sprinkle in a few more events. So, make sure to circle back here and hit up the new EFTA forum for all the juicy, late-breaking updates!

It’s 3/14!

Ah, the sweet, sweet sound of “TGIF” – it’s music to my ears! This morning’s adventure? Heading to breakfast for the Town Meeting. Plus, the countdown to camera day is ticking away, and it’s Friday to boot. Seriously, could the stars align any better for this guy?

Today’s Chaos, Courtesy of Work

Talk about a day at work that felt like navigating through a labyrinth blindfolded. But hey, I’ve made my great escape and now I’m off to hit the ground running. Literally. Fingers crossed and hoping against hope that tomorrow decides to play nice and hit that sweet 50-degree mark.