Why am I out here?

What am I doing and where am I going? Well, it certainly is beautiful out here.

Although. My rickety old body doesn’t think so.

Distance five miles. Awesome. It amazes me. What something like a little juniper tree will do. In the winter out here. It makes a drift. So big that it stops all persons trying to cross the prairies. I’m on this carpet of gravel that weaves around all these drifts. Sometimes I have to dive into these corridors of snow where people have tried to bust through with their four-wheel drives. Through a monster drift.

Over the mountain pass and through some punks. Showing off by getting air over a couple of snow doubles. And now I am on a monster climb. What am I doing out here?

Does anybody else get excited when they cross the top of a hill? Like a puppy when it’s owner comes home. Like what’s up there? My cadence increases. I start working harder. I can’t wait to get up there. So exciting. And then to find out it is a false summit. You stupid; you’ve been out here a million times.

How come you thought that was the top? And yet when we get to the next one. Summit or not we’re gonna get excited. We’re gonna paint like a little puppy. I’m already excited about this. Where’s the next one? Why am I out here?

I’m getting tired because I stopped talking to myself. I’m no longer interested in a stimulating conversation. Why am I out this far?