Day: March 29, 2024

Ah, spring in Missoula typically plays hard to get, more like a moody director who can’t decide on the scene’s mood. Usually, it’s a mix of grey skies and a chill that makes you think twice about ditching your cozy blanket fortress. Biking? That’s a June hobby when the weather finally gets its act together. But this year, it’s like nature pulled a fast one on us. I’ve been hitting the trails on my bike for a month already, and it’s got me feeling like I’ve stepped into some alternate universe where Missoula missed the memo on spring misery.

Moki, already clocking in miles before its usual time, staring me down like, “Surprise! We’re doing this early this year.” The usual suspects – the majestic evergreens, those show-offy mountain views – they’re all in on it too. But it’s like showing up to a party you thought was a costume party but wasn’t. You’re glad you’re there, but can’t shake off the feeling that your outfit’s a bit out of place.

The signs of spring are flaunting their colors earlier than the curtain call, with buttercups popping up like they know something we don’t. It’s like nature’s decided on a plot twist, and honestly, it’s pretty cool. It’s an unexpected invite to the great outdoors that I’ve happily RSVP’d to. Yet, here I am, cruising down trails in what feels like a stolen month, with a weird mix of joy and a pinch of “is this for real?”

This year, Missoula’s script flipped, and while it’s bizarre to be pedaling through what’s usually a spectator sport of watching the snow reluctantly recede, I’m not complaining. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the unexpected can be pretty fantastic. Still, part of me is looking over my shoulder, half-expecting winter to tap me on the back and say, “Gotcha!” But until then, you’ll find me soaking in this freakishly friendly spring, weirded out but thoroughly thrilled.

Born and raised in Roundup Montana I thought that implied knowledge of winter. But now living in Livingston we are consistently scouring the map to see where the warmest and dries places in Montana are. Many times we find out that Roundup is the warmest and dryest place in the state. What?

So after leaving my birthplace, I went to Billings Montana. Same as above, meaning warm and dry. But even more sometimes. Now keep in mind living in Montana winters are inherently long.

Then I went to upstate New York. While living and racing my mountain bike I considered the winter’s cold but short. Everybody around me thought they were horrible. I found them to last very short. In fact like a month or two. Other than that, it was always in transition and the summers were amazing. Awesome fall in that part of the country.

Although a little bit humid, Connecticut was the same as Plattsburgh but even better. I was able to ride my bike year-round.  

But … That’s when my decisions making 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 Bitterroot corridor it looked, and I was told, to always be the warmer place in Montana. And it was next to the mountains. Mountains are very very important to me. I cannot live anywhere without mountains and so Missoula seems to be the best place. 

But then I started to get a little grouchy in Missoula because of the winters. It seemed to be a little bit longer than New England. The worst thing was inversion and clouds. Then I lost track of everything. I moved to Bozeman. Like … what was I thinking?

I soon realized this 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. 

“Welcome to the sunny side”, was the first and most welcome greeting we got upon arriving in downtown. From there I thought I was in heaven. The summers were hot and the population was low. This little town seemed to be a lot like Missoula. 

Then it happened. The winter hit, and at first, it seemed okay. A couple of snowstorms but it melted right away and the whole winter up to March was dry. I thought holy cow this is it. The most awesome place although windy sometimes, haha.

Now after surviving, well, I have to say I haven’t survived the second winter yet and this is the big problem. This year after a couple of early-season snowstorms indeed everything dried off. It was just cold and windy. Which in itself means winter and my body feels weathered to justify. 

And then as you go into March you think oh my god Spring is almost here and then it hits it snows every day in March. 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 what other places would be experiencing spring. 

I’ll stop right there and say that I am thankful for the people of Livingston. I am thankful for all the sun. And the gravel. I just want to stop the trend. Of moving to messed-up-environments. Maybe go nomad. Like be in sunny and dry during a SHORT winter but then come north to friends and good times.

2020 Photos

Paul’s Visit Part 3

Sounded good. Camp where Lewis and Clark stayed in 1805. This park encompasses the confluence of the Jefferson, Madison and Gallatin Rivers. Actually sounded pretty cool and a perfect day off from adventuring. So off to Headwaters State Park.

Paul traveled 2,300 miles to come see us so it was only fitting to see the headwaters of the Missouri. Within the boundaries of this scenic park the Jefferson, Madison, and Gallatin rivers merge to form the 2,300 mile Missouri River.

The area was a geographical hotbed to Native Americans, trappers, traders and settlers. Coveting the regions bountiful resources, the Flathead, Bannock and Shoshoni Indians contested control of the area … then later the trappers and settlers who followed.

Lewis, of Lewis and Clark fame, wrote, “the country opens suddenly to extensive and beautiful plains and meadows which appear to be surrounded in every direction with distant and lofty mountains.” As we walked around this place. A place I find very bland and void of really pretty stuff like waterfalls. We discussed how much of a bad ass Sacajawea was. It was here that she was captured as a child and eventually returned as a member of the Corps of Discovery. Oh yea and the badass, John Colter, later made several trips to this area in search of furs and began his famous run nearby. For us it was windy and cold. Hard to believe settlers would flock here to try and transform the land into farms and ranches. I started to fidget.

But not my best friend and my partner. They were enthralled in the history and in reading all the trailside interpretive displays. The park also provides 17 campsites, a freaking tipi rental, and foot trails to these points of interest. Ho hum … I started walking back to the car. Maybe I could take a nap.

Of the park’s 532 acres I found little to take photos of. Maybe this was a bad time of year. i could just imagine a nice summer day being a lot nicer. I was now in full gait towards the car. I hear people behind me and discovered that my compatriots were in agreeance … too freaking cold.

We dashed to the car and jumped in. The perfect primer for a stew-lash night.

And just like that, the joy fizzles out. Every day, it’s like I’m counting down to my next culinary rendezvous—I swear, I live meal to meal. But recently, I’ve put a full stop to all that, only to realize how much my mood’s been hitching a ride on my food habits. Let’s be real: food shouldn’t double as your personal brand of happiness. Sure, it’s a blast to indulge and there’s nothing wrong with savoring a good meal, but living solely for the thrill of the next bite? That’s no way to roll. Time to ditch the feast-or-famine routine and scout out what genuinely makes me happy, sans the sugar coating.

I might be off-base here, but hey, we’re not just wandering through life without a clue. Our brains and bodies are basically our personal petri dishes. Sure, there’s a chance this whole thing could spiral into me swapping one vice for another—hello, blackjack and basement poker nights, or, heaven forbid, something heavier. But, fingers crossed, that’s not on my horizon. With all the running and racing that usually keeps me on my toes, I’ve got enough distractions. Especially now, with a bit of downtime between training cycles, the timing couldn’t be more spot-on.

So, last night at 8, I hit a milestone: a full 24-hour stretch without so much as a crumb making its way past my lips. But why stop there? Now, I’m clocking in at 39 hours and gunning for 60. I’ve danced with 24-hour fasts before, chasing that detox high and giving my body a chance to hit the reset button. And, let me tell you, the buzz around town—about how overeating’s the grim reaper in disguise—might just have a point. The minimalist eaters out there, they’re onto something, living life in the slow lane, longevity-wise. Plus, there’s something almost magical about how the body kicks into repair mode when you ease off the feeding frenzy. A weekend of pushing my limits, followed by strategic refueling, and bam—I’m back, better than ever.

But this new 60-hour gig? It’s more than just a test of will. It’s about digging deeper into the why behind my food fixations, more than the what. A part of me is just curious to see if I’ve got the grit. And through this, I’ve stumbled upon a goldmine of endurance tactics—mastering the art of pacing and keeping a cool head when everything else is a blur. When I emerge on the other side, I’ll ease back into the world of flavors, bit by bit, gearing up for my next training chapter. And who knows? Maybe I’ll finally shake off those late-night cravings for cardamom ice cream.

This post is a first in a tiny series (or stages) of my recollection of last weekend’s trip to Lewiston for the Devils Slide Mountain Bike Race. This is the first race of the season and it was a great time. This is how it went down.

I awoke Saturday morning and put on a pot of “Fast Lane” tea. I was so super charged that I got myself into a scone baking project. My plan was to surprise my friends with scones in the morning. Today we were traveling to Lewiston Idaho. The scones were glorious but then my packing fell behind. No worries it was to be a laid back day. This is the happiest I have been in quite a while.

Thanks to Triple Ring Productions I was able to get this race on my calendar and also my friends who gracefully offered to drive me down to Lewiston.

Lets see, what should I take. Carbo Rocket, Action Wipes, shoes, helmet, bike …. cash, license, … on and on. When I had finally put it all together in heaps and started stuffing into a couple containers it was apparent I would be running behind the planned 8 AM departure time.

In the car and headed to the gas station I rounded a corner and that cause my gas gage to ms-read a little. I looked down and saw that I wasn’t completely out of gas, just barely. I would make up time by skipping the gas station.

As I approached Lolo I was a bundle of nerves. Just leaving Missoula the needle dropped below the empty level. It was pegged. But here I was at the city limit sign. I turned off the beetle and coasted into Lolo. Whew! 

I found my friends in the same state of happiness and early morning grogginess. I presented my story of about running out of gas and we had a laugh. It wasn’t long before we were all packed into one vehicle and ready for departure. “Wait”, said Ross. “Should we bring wood”? I replied, “Well then we should also bring brats”. And that decision would be the key to a evening by the fire roasting brats. Finally we were off.

On Lolo Pass we hit snow but I had faith. We had done this trip may times to find sunshine and spring like conditions in Idaho. As we got deeper into Idaho the first signs of spring started to appear. First it was little flowers on a little snapshot stop along the river. Then it was the appearance of flowers alongside the road.

As we rolled into Lewiston it was just as we left it last year. The sun was out, it was hot, and the trees had blossoms on them. The excitement to finally stretch our legs in spring like weather ran through out the car.

Stopping in to pick up our little cabin key we ran into a “tiny” snag.

To be continued … (haha, that was fun)

From City Brew, I’m building up Lolo, my racing bike, as I prepare for the MJCF Missoula Road Race #2. With registration looming, the race’s status is uncertain, but I’m ready to head out, hoping it’s on or to find a riding partner at Missoula Bike Works.

Tomorrow’s big plan involves a pass ride from Thompson Falls into Idaho, exploring a lesser-known pass to the West. Interested in joining? Let me know!

Check out the photo I’m smiling about in my Picasa Gallery and more about the race at MJCF Missoula Road Race #2. Planning a ride? See the route on Google Maps.

The recovery of last weekend’s climb up Lolo peak is complete, and now I am preparing for my road cycling months here in Montana. April and May, I usually hit the road to get into shape and to get into a better shape. Being poor, all I could get to prepare my road bike was two cheap tires, and with those, I will overhaul my bike tomorrow. This means getting the mountain bike somewhat going so I can ride to work on something that is not tricked out with clip-less pedals and a greasy big chain ring. If you are a commuter who likes to keep their pant legs clean, you know what I mean.

This Friday I will complete my days off from training by going on a run, and this weekend I am planning a 50-mile bike loop or mountain pass ride somewhere. I am thinking Lolo Pass since it is close, and I have never explored beyond the pass itself. The weather is turning spring again, but the rains are supposed to keep the spring feelings at bay. Let us hope April will be better.

Last night was FFOL, and it was just mom and I. Kathi came in a little later with some digital photo questions that I must research a little further today for her. In addition, my aunt Paula needs a map to Iowa for her swaray. Therefore, I better run to work and get busy there. Cheers to the adventurous today; May they find the week adventurous.

The content reflects a deep passion for cycling, endurance challenges, and the spirit of adventure. It’s inspiring to see individuals push their limits and embark on such extraordinary journeys. The dedication and determination of the participants shine through in these engaging narratives.

If you’re a cycling enthusiast, these links will provide you with a wealth of information about challenging biking routes, personal achievements, and the incredible spirit behind these adventures.

Before I forget

Ah, hats off to the folks at MARS Stout Inc., for turning what I anticipated to be a dull evening into a marathon reading session of my own life’s chronicles. There I was, supposed to be scoping out last May’s weather patterns in Missoula for this year’s cycling escapade, when I tumbled down the rabbit hole of my own blog. It was like binge-watching my life’s series, from my inaugural day in Missoula right up to the present. Quite the emotional rollercoaster, let me tell you.

Citations:
[1] https://williammartin.com/mountain-biking/2013-rmvq
[2] https://www.adventurecycling.org/resources/blog/one-big-circle-the-first-90-degrees/
[3] https://williammartin.com/mountain-biking/the-rmvq/
[4] https://www.komoot.com/guide/44269/road-cycling-routes-in-montana