Howdy from Missoula, Montana, where the sun sparkles like diamonds on fresh snow and squirrels stockpile pinecones like they’re prepping for the apocalypse (those little buggers are masters of winter hoarding, I tell ya!). As you might’ve guessed from the headline, I’m knee-deep in the throes of OSCR 50k training, which, let me tell you, is about as intense as trying to outrun a mama grizzly protecting her cubs. The good kind of intense, though, the kind that leaves you feeling as invigorated as a woodpecker on espresso.
Just yesterday, I left work, eyes glued to the horizon like a lovesick loon yearning for its mate. And there it was, Mama Moon, draped across Woody Mountain like a celestial shawl. I whipped out my phone faster than a jackrabbit on rollerblades (yes, you read that right, saw one last week on Main Street – talk about surreal) to capture the scene. It was the kind of beauty that makes you sigh and whisper, “Montana, you magnificent beast, you never disappoint.”
But with winter’s icy grip tightening, it’s hard not to worry about Spring Break, which looms like a fuzzy mountain goat on the horizon (those things are adorable, by the way, like walking cotton balls with horns). The forecast predicts temperatures colder than a yeti’s breath, which could throw a wrench in our hiking plans. Still, gotta stay optimistic, right? Maybe the sun gods will take pity on us snow-starved souls and unleash a few warm days just in time. Wish us luck, folks!
Speaking of snow, my trusty skis are practically vibrating with anticipation. I’m itching to carve up the trails like a hot knife through butter. Anyone else brave the cold for some Nordic adventures? Shout out if you want to join me – there’s strength in numbers (and shared hot cocoa)!
Until then, it’s spin class till my legs scream “uncle” and those oh-so-glamorous regeneration stretches. Gotta keep the body limber and the mind focused, even if it means contorting myself into shapes that would make a pretzel blush. It’s all part of the dance, the behind-the-scenes hustle that fuels marathon dreams.
But hey, the finish line isn’t the only destination, right? It’s the journey, the quiet mornings on frozen rivers, the camaraderie around crackling campfires, the thrill of pushing your limits and discovering a strength you never knew you had. And soon, it’ll be a different kind of challenge: tearing up dusty mountain trails on my trusty steed, the mountain bike. Transition periods, they call them, but I call them opportunities for new adventures.
So, wherever you find yourself, whether navigating ice storms or chasing sunbeams, remember – keep the fire of adventure burning! And if you ever find yourself in Missoula, come join me for a moonlit ski, a squirrel-defying picnic, or a heart-pounding mountain bike ride. This town welcomes you with open arms (and maybe a plate of huckleberry pie for good measure). Until then, stay wild, stay warm, and keep dreaming big!
P.S. Anyone got any tips for conquering pre-marathon munchies? My inner yeti has been on a rampage in the pantry lately. Send snacks (and sanity)!
Boneshakerbike 
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