Day: March 19, 2024

Day 2 at Pipestone Training Camp, and it seems Mr. Bear has morphed into Coach Bear, a drill sergeant in disguise. Picture this: me, bleary-eyed, reaching for my coffee like it’s my lifeline, only to be told by Coach Bear that my morning ritual is now replaced with sprints. Coffee? What coffee?

I somehow made it to work, fueled by sheer will and the fear of Coach Bear lurking behind every corner. Work was a blur, but by noon, I was dreaming of a peaceful lunch, maybe a little downtime to recharge. Ha! Wishful thinking. Coach Bear had other plans—apparently, “lunch ride” is the new “lunch break.”

The end of the day couldn’t come fast enough. Thoughts of a serene meditation session or a leisurely gravel ride home danced in my head. But no, Coach Bear, in his infinite wisdom, decided that what I really needed was to ride until the sun dipped below the horizon. “Ride until you drop,” he said. And I, the ever-obedient trainee, complied, wondering if my legs would ever forgive me.

In Coach Bear’s world, recovery is for the weak, and coffee is a distant dream. But hey, at least I’ll be in peak shape—or collapse trying. Here’s to surviving Day 3.

I was out for my evening stroll along the shore of the Pacific Ocean. The beautiful orange and dark grey hues of the horizon, illuminated by the late sun, amazed me. The evening was cold, and I felt a chill in the air. I took a few steps into the ocean. The water was icy against my fur. Waves crashed against my feet as I strolled. I stopped and looked out towards the horizon. I felt a deep connection to the ocean and knew my life would never be the same.

What am I tried to accomplish? I hate living in wintry places. And I keep moving to the worst of them. Here is the rundown.

• 2020 Photo Album

Born and raised in Roundup Montan. I thought that was winter. But now as we have lived in Livingston, and in our consistently scouring the map to see where the warmest and driest places in Montana are. We keep finding out that Roundup is the warmest and dryest place in the state.

Billings Montana. Same as above. But even more warm sometimes.

Upstate New York. While living there and racing my mountain bike I was in heaven. I considered the winter’s cold but short. Everybody around me thought they were horrible. I found them to last very short. So short in fact like a month or two. Other than that, it was always in transition and the summers were absolutely amazing. well, except for the humidity and ice.

Connecticut. Same as above but even better. I was able to ride my bike year-round. That’s when things started to turn for the worse. I decided to move back to Montana. I chose Missoula. Not only because of its art and culture but because along with the flathead corridor and the Bitterroots, it seemed to always be the warmer place in Montana. And most importantly next to the mountains. You know mountains are very very important to me. I cannot live anywhere without mountains and so Missoula seems to be the best place. And indeed the winters were not as short as New England, but MAYBE doable.

But then I started to get a little grouchy in Missoula because of the winters. YES, they were a little bit longer than New England, but the worst thing was inversion and clouds. I thought this place was not for me and then I lost track of everything. I moved to Bozeman.

I realized that was the coldest place I have ever lived. The winters seemed to last two to three months longer than even in Missoula. I mean, you only had like three months of summer and even then it wasn’t that warm. We escaped over the pass to Livingston two years ago.

And I thought I was in heaven. The summers are hot and the population was low. And this little town seems to be a lot like Missoula. But when the first winter hit it first seemed okay. A couple of snowstorms but it melted right away and the whole winter all the way up to March it was dry. I thought holy cow this is it.

This is awesome. The only problem was the wind. Now after surviving two. Well, I have to say I haven’t survived the second winter yet and this is the big problem. After a couple of early seasons snow storms indeed everything dried off. It was just cold and windy. Which in itself means winter and my body feels like it wintered.

And then as you go into March you think oh my god Spring is almost here and then it hits and it snows every day throughout the month and into April and May. And if this year is like last year, it will snow until June. So yeah. Livingston seems to be okay until you hit March, but then it’s winters are offset into when normal people would be experiencing spring.

My body’s very messed up. I need to be near the desert but in the mountains. This is not sounding like Montana at all.

I picked up Ruby Monday December 9th las year. Since then I have ridden this bike 95 times for 171 hours riding 938 snowy and tough miles. Yea. Rubs is almost a thousand miles old. I wanted to document the entire romance but life interrupted and since then it has been a blur.

I named Ruby during her first night at the apartment. It just felt right. I wasn’t thinking of my grandmother or any thing like that. Well, there is a possibility that “Ruby” by Kaiser Chiefs was playing on Spotify.  Or a subconscious voice was yelling Ruby AK, a stop on the ITI. I would like to think Ruby named herself. In short … dunno.

So now after 48,000 vertical feet of climbing in the snow spring is right around the corner.  And new surfaces. I think maybe Ruby will be my mountain bike this summer. Really she is that fun.

I found myself at Adventure Cycling around 6 p.m., gearing up for what I dubbed the “Last Walk” – a whimsical pre-surgery send-off for a friend about to brave knee surgery the following day. Originally, we had grand visions of a cinematic evening, complete with pizza, beer, and the obligatory ice cream chaser. But, as fate would have it, every master plan must face its trials. Our movie dreams were dashed, courtesy of my friend’s sluggish ACL-less saunter. But hey, no biggie.

Most of our evening was engulfed in the great debate of where to munch, but eventually, “da Bridge” claimed victory. As we settled into our seats, reminiscing ensued. I was catapulted back to the halcyon days of plotting grand escapades, possibly including a night in a secluded cabin, our smiles frosted with the remnants of clandestine beer runs.

Now, the eve of the surgery stands before us, marking the end of mobility for my compatriot, yet symbolizing so much more. It’s akin to reaching the peak of the week, a peculiar sort of hump day. Tomorrow, the journey of healing commences following the mend of what’s broken. It’s a bittersweet symphony of anticipation and nostalgia, as we brace for what’s ahead.

Last night threw me a curveball, giving me the perfect excuse to swap out my tires for those slick road bike tires, gearing up for this weekend’s race.

Howdy, folks! Bill here, recovering from an epic ride up and over Lolo Pass from Missoula. I just rolled back home and practically crashed into bed – this week off couldn’t have come at a better time!

Now, I have a confession to make. Yesterday, I was feeling a bit rough around the edges, but you know what they say, “When the going gets tough, the tough get biking!” So, I decided to tackle the ride anyway. This marks the third year in a row I’ve taken on this beast of a challenge.

Here are the stats from my previous Lolo Pass adventures:

Year	Distance (miles)	Time	Climbing (feet)	Blogs
2005	52.38	3:00	3,085	Lolo Pass 2 Idaho & Big Cedars and Cold Waters
2006	75	4:30	8,999	Lolo Pass Road Ride
2007	76.21	4:36	8,771.7	No blog this time, but I promise to finish that last one soon. Been on the bike a tad too much lately!

It’s been quite the journey, and each year brings its own set of challenges and triumphs. If you want to check out the route from yesterday’s adventure or relive the past rides, head over to this link.

Ah, Sunday—the universal day of reflection after a Saturday spent paying homage to the gods of beer, Thai delicacies, and cinematic epics about the raw, unfiltered human spirit. Just last night, “Touching The Void” graced my screen once again, proving its undying worth in the pantheon of movies that make you question your own tenacity (and sanity, if we’re being honest). The day before, despite proclaiming it a ‘rest day’, my buddy and I still managed to conquer Waterworks Hill—a feat that seems minor only if you ignore the aftermath of our brawl with Little Saint Joe, a towering behemoth in the Bitterroots flirting with the heavens at over 9,000 feet. And now, here we are, bidding adieu to a Spring Break that’s been nothing short of epic. Paul’s off to the snowless lands of Plattsburgh, New York, tomorrow, while I’m about to clock back into the real world.

Come Wednesday, we found ourselves in a dance with nature, hiking and skiing our way up to the Rocky Mountaineers Cabin perched on Little Saint Joseph Peak. This rustic escape, nestled around 7,500 feet up, gave us a much-needed respite from the biting cold, courtesy of its humble wood stove. Kicking off our ascent at the crack of dawn (or what felt like the middle of the night at 5:45), we didn’t hit the cabin until the stars were high, lugging our 40-plus pound packs over a merciless 4,000 vertical feet climb from the trailhead. Talk about a workout that makes your regular gym session whimper in the corner.

Upon arrival, we were welcomed by fellow adventurers—proof that warmth and good company can be found even in the most remote corners of the earth. The cabin, already toasty, and the morning advice on prime skiing spots were blessings in disguise. The previous occupants made their exit just as we set out, carving our first paths in the pristine snow, surrounded by vistas that would make your jaw hit the floor.

The decision to extend our stay was as swift as it was wise, made over lunch with a view that could put any postcard to shame, gazing out towards Saint Joe Peak and the snow-capped sentinels of the Bitterroot Range. Another night under the stars was non-negotiable.

Our final day’s ski was nothing short of legendary, marking a descent back to civilization that felt both triumphant and bittersweet. Reaching the car as darkness embraced us, we capped off the week with Mexican food and a growler of local brew. What a week, indeed—a tale of friendship, endurance, and the unforgiving beauty of nature that I wouldn’t trade for the world.

Just slapped some fresh pics up on the ‘gram. So, last Thursday, I needed a bit more oomph than the usual pep talk to lace up for a jog. Armed to the teeth with my camera and a smidgen of hope that it might actually see some action (aside from the usual dust gathering), I ventured out. But let’s be real, trotting around with a camera that feels like it’s got its own gravitational pull is no picnic. That’s when the lightbulb went off – a pit stop at Starbucks for my ultimate pick-me-up. A piping hot coffee of the day paired with a blueberry scone that’s basically heaven in a bite. Alas, the evening had set in, and the bakery section was screaming “night owl snacks,” so a cookie had to play understudy to the scone.

And would you believe it? That was the magic potion I needed. I hit the trail at Grant Creek, camera in tow (because let’s face it, who am I if not the paparazzi of nature?). So, take a gander at the snaps!

So, two thoughts are doing the tango in my brain today, and it’s quite the show.

First up, the Grand Opening of my Virtual Gallery. That’s right, I’ve sprinkled some of my latest creations onto my online store like fairy dust. Feel free to hop in, have a look-see, and share your two cents. Most items won’t break the bank, and hey, every little bit helps keep the lights on around here. But whoops—scratch that! The digital curtain has fallen; the online shop has joined the choir invisible.

And now, for something completely different: “Operation Comanche – We Hardly Knew Ye”. Last night, in what felt like a scene straight out of a bureaucratic thriller, we were handed our walking papers by the U.S. Army. Yep, come 8 am EST on the 19th of March, it’s curtains for the Comanche gig. Later today, the powers that be will dish out a couple of Program Management Instructions, kinda like fortune cookies that tell us how to pack up our desks and exit stage left with dignity. We’re to eyeball these instructions like they’re the secret to eternal youth, understanding every jot and tittle before we’re shuffled off to, hopefully, greener pastures. HR is supposedly gearing up to play musical chairs with us, handle our tech gear, and let the Data Management folks know we’re changing lanes. The golden rule? Don’t lift a finger until Big Brother says so.

It’s like they say, when one door closes, another opens… or in my case, when one website closes, an army program gets canned. What a day, huh?

Good morning, folks! So, what’s the latest scoop? Just snagged myself a shiny new camera and I’m itching to give it a whirl this spring. With a bit of luck, I’ll be snapping shots like a pro by the time my Alaska adventure rolls around. Had to play hooky yesterday, thanks to a nasty 24-hour bug. Feeling a tad better now, though I’m still a bit stiff. On the bright side, the weather’s been holding up pretty nicely! CT has made a grand re-entrance. Alrighty, time to dive into the work pile and get caught up before my delightfully impatient boss has a meltdown.

A co-worker sent me a quote. So here it is: ” If the Great Spirit had desired me to be a white man he would have made me so in the first place. He put in your heart certain wishes and plans; in my heart he put other and different desires. Each man is good in the sight of the Great Spirit. It is not necessary for eagles to be crows.” Sitting Bull [Teton Sioux]

Yesterday I rested. Today I ride. I am on the bike for 2 hours tonight, easy stuff. I feel pretty good and the decision to just go home after work and take a nap paid off. I feel well rested and ready to go. The most important thing also is that my body is now processing energy better and my body fat is going down as planned. I have really filled up my race calendar and I promise to post it as soon as I get a chance. I have been so busy biking and getting ready to move.

The move will take place on Good Friday and I don’t know if I will be online or even have a phone after that. I will try to keep this site posted. Something I have neglected recently. It is spring … time to be outside.

At least I think it is spring. There is snow outside today, freaking everyone out. Oh well, cant hold back spring, it is on the way.