Author: Bill

Navigating the murky waters of change has never been my forte, especially when it involves saying a reluctant goodbye to the thrilling world of mountain biking (MTB) racing. The recent shutdown of GCN+ felt like the universe itself was conspiring to keep me from my passion. Coupled with the high barriers to access UCI World Cup MTB events—turns out, I didn’t accidentally leave a fortune in my other pants—the journey’s taken a rather gloomy turn.

Mountain biking wasn’t just a hobby for me; it was my escape, my slice of freedom. So, you can imagine the cloud of gloom that settled over me, thick and oppressive, as if saying, “Hey, maybe it’s time to stop watching biking hero’s like Nino Shurter.” It’s a bit melodramatic, I know, but we’re all the heroes in our own stories, right?

Facing this conundrum, I find myself at a crossroads, looking for signposts that point to “What next?” With outdoor sports feeling like a distant dream, I’m turning my gaze elsewhere, indoors. F1 racing, which is still within the reach of my decidedly non-millionaire budget via the F1 app, and the virtual worlds of video games have become my new contenders for attention. Sure, it’s not the same as watching Rob Warner shout “LOOK AT THE TIME”, but there’s a certain charm in them that I’m starting to appreciate.

At 58, I’m learning that life is all about transitions. The interests that once defined us can evolve, leading us down paths we never expected to tread. I should open the door to different hobbies that might just fill the void left behind. Whether it’s the thrill of an F1 race or the immersive worlds of video games, I’m ready to embrace this new “stuff”.

Stepping into these unknown lands, I can’t help but think that, sure, change is scary, but isn’t it also the door to opportunities we never saw coming? Maybe this is the adventure I’ve been unknowingly craving. And, who knows, in this story of shifting sands, maybe there’s a sliver of hope—a little nudge reminding us that sometimes, waving goodbye to one dream might just be the ticket to finding another, equally heartwarming. Plus, as a quirky perk, being a couch potato might just cut down on my lifespan, effectively trimming down the years of drama. Talk about a win-win situation! Oh, LOOK AT THE TIME!

Yesterday turned into an epic ride, quite unexpectedly. You know those mornings you drag yourself out, motivated by a need to shake off the blues? That was me, ready to pedal away my gloom on Darkwing, my trusty bike, heading towards Marshall Canyon. The plan was simple: do some intense sprints in a quiet spot, the kind that leave you too spent to worry.

My mind wandered back to the origins of these epic rides, to a time 22 years ago when training was my daily ritual. Great Training Weather – “Good morning, world! The weather here has been wonderful, albeit a bit chilly. I’ve taken two days off to recuperate from last week’s training sessions. It seems I’m well on my way to having a fantastic season.”

Flashing back to yesterday, I stumbled upon an old trail by chance, a hidden gem I’d previously shown to my biking buddies. It was like uncovering a long-lost treasure. Soon, I slipped back to 2006, when I wrote Stupidity Lives On – “Ah, the early days of March 2006. The internet felt more like the Wild West and less like a valid tool. Let’s dive into the chaos and charm of those times, shall we?”

As I pounded the pedals, a sense of exhilaration washed over me. The ride down was not just thrilling due to the mix of speed and sweet nostalgia, but it also ended with an adventurous merge onto the highway, sending my thoughts adrift to 2008. It was then I had penned my experiences at Morning Commute , detailing my daily mini-epic commutes to Univision Computers on my K2, slicing through the city like a caffeine-fueled hero in a low-budget action flick. Simultaneously, in a parallel narrative at Makes For Indoor Training, I greeted the day from Missoula, Montana, filled with optimism for the perfect day for a road ride, blending my journey’s physical thrills with the reflective musings of a cyclist’s life.

What a ride! It brought back all the reasons why biking is my passion. Flashing back to the adventures of 2009 inspired a post in 2010, you can find it at Meadow of Giants – “This is part 11 in a series dedicated to my favorite snapshots of 2009. The latest addition to this nostalgic journey is aptly named ‘Meadow of Giants’”, capturing the essence of why I cherish these moments on two wheels.

Ah, speaking of memories… not all of them sprinkled with sunshine. Flashback to 2012 and the snowy escapade: “Oh man, talk about a winter wonderland adventure this morning! The snow was just dumping down like there was no tomorrow when I decided to brave it on my trusty ‘fatty.’” It was one of those moments that mixed a dash of madness with a whole lot of unforgettable thrill.

And speaking of snow, which I affectionately began referring to as devil dust… 2012 brought its own brand of a chilly escapade: “Oh man, talk about a winter wonderland adventure this morning! The snow was just pouring down like crazy when I decided to brave it on my trusty ‘fatty.’” It was one of those moments where the wonder of winter truly tests your mettle, turning every pedal stroke into a memorable battle against the elements.

Eventually, my passion for biking seamlessly transitioned into the winter months. By 2013, I found my ultimate winter joy: cabin to cabin snow biking. There’s something uniquely exhilarating about traversing the snowy landscape, from one cozy cabin to the next, all while aboard my trusty snow bike. It’s undoubtedly my all-time favorite winter activity.

Oh, and don’t even get me started on where winter riding led me. Fat bike racing became the new thrill. By 2014, I dove into the JayP Backyard Fat Pursuit Part 1 – the first 30 miles teaching me about “Expectations… and perspective. Have no expectations. Don’t expect a groomed surface, or to ride, that it’s all downhill from here, or even that you are almost there.” It was a journey that redefined endurance, pushing me into the depths of winter’s embrace on the back of my fat bike, each pedal a testament to the raw beauty and challenge of the frozen wilderness.

But that extreme challenge? That’s not the heart of my love for biking. It’s more about survival in those moments. What really captures my biking soul is cruising on a beach, far away from any devil dust. Like that unforgettable ride last year, 2023, during the Fatty Ride @ Cape Lookout – it was all about the wind in my hair, the sun kissing my face, and that wild, carefree vibe. Just me, my fat bike, and the endless beach, a perfect escape into the blissful simplicity of nature.

It reminds me why I love biking. Yesterday I got home feeling lighter, reminded that the best rides are those unplanned ones that lift your spirits. Cheers to more unexpected adventures on two wheels!

All these adventures that danced through my mind during yesterday’s ride share one thing in common: they each unfolded on this day in history. It’s almost as if March 6th has been my personal day for milestone biking memories, a thread connecting diverse experiences from braving the snow to beach cruising under the sun. For a walk down this memory lane, each tale can be found documented at https://williammartin.com/0000/03/06/, a collection of moments that shaped my journey on two wheels.

Today started off with me glued to my couch, trapped in a vortex of gloom. You know, one of those days where even your coffee needs a pep talk to bother perking up. But, as fate would have it, my dwindling toilet paper fortress and the echo in my snack cabinet finally nudged me out of my funk. So, with a heroic burst of energy that would make a sloth blink twice, I hopped on my bike, using the noble quest for bulk goods at Costco as my rallying cry.

Riding through the streets, I felt the wind in my hair and my spirits lifting. I arrived at Costco, parked my noble steed (read: slightly rusty but trusty bike), and met up with my partner in crime, Mo. Mo and I, armed with our oversized shopping cart, were ready to conquer the aisles of wholesale glory. Little did we know, we were about to embark on an adventure that would make our usual shopping spree look like a walk in the park.

Just as we were debating the merits of a 4-pack of a2 milk (because, really, who needs that milk … think latte?), the atmosphere shifted. The air turned colder, and the fluorescent lights flickered ominously. And then, out of nowhere, the Ghostbusters rolled in, proton packs at the ready, turning our ordinary Costco run into the set of a paranormal showdown.

“Attention, Costco shoppers,” boomed a voice, echoing off the concrete floors and towering stacks of merchandise. “Please remain calm, but we’ve got some uninvited spectral guests today.”

Mo and I exchanged glances. Our shopping trip had suddenly turned into a front-row seat to a ghostly invasion. Shoppers huddled together, watching in awe as the Ghostbusters charged through the aisles, zapping invisible foes with their proton beams. The ghostly howls and the smell of ozone filled the air, adding a level of excitement to our shopping trip that we hadn’t anticipated.

In the midst of the chaos, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Here we were, just trying to stock up on bulk goods, and instead, we were dodging stray energy beams and spectral shoppers from beyond the grave. At one point, a ghostly figure zoomed past us, knocking over a display of Kirkland Signature nuts, causing a cascade of nutty goodness. Mo, ever the opportunist, snagged a rogue package, quipping, “Hey, free snacks!”

After what felt like an eternity (but was probably more like 20 minutes), the Ghostbusters declared the store officially “ghost-free.” The crowd erupted into cheers, and the Costco staff, ever efficient, began the monumental task of tidying up the aftermath of the spectral showdown.

As Mo and I checked out, our cart slightly more filled than intended (thanks to the adrenaline-fueled shopping spree), we couldn’t help but feel a little thrilled by our unexpected adventure. Sure, we came for the bulk goods, but we left with a story that would forever change our view of a Costco run.

And just like that, #$%@ed up day turned into an epic tale of ghosts, giggles, and gallons of a2 milk. Only in Missoula could a day that started with such gloom end with ghostly excitement and the promise of more supernatural escapades. *Note: This post was probably exaggerated!

On this day in history

“she is running … holy shit”

— Spectator at Togwotee Classic 2018

Ah, this past weekend was like a long, drawn-out sigh in the grand opera of life, and just to sprinkle a bit of extra salt in the wound, I’ve yet to figure out how to deal with the impending doom of a work meeting that’s decided to overstay its welcome into late Tuesday. I affectionately dub Mondays “Survival Days”—it’s the day every week when you channel your inner ninja, avoiding human contact like it’s the last slice of pizza at a party. Engaging in conversation? A big no-no. Sleeping on the tracks? Only if you’re aspiring to be a cautionary tale. Chatting up the police? Not unless you’re pitching a buddy cop movie script. And venturing onto the internet? Forget about it; that’s the virtual equivalent of sticking your hand in a blender. So, while the world continues to spin in its chaotic dance, I’ll be over here, cozily wrapped up in the warm blanket of nostalgia, reliving the good ol’ days.

Battling the triple threat of depression, anxiety, and that ever-elusive quest for meaning, here I am on this fine Sunday, March 3rd, taking a trip down memory lane in search of some semblance of purpose. You know, it’s one of those days where you mix a bit of soul-searching with your morning coffee, wondering if the past holds the key to unlocking the mysteries of your present.

Today felt like I was the star of an epic saga, the kind where you’re sprinting a 24 hour race, but the finish line’s got legs of its own. Ever felt the universe prepping to throw ruts your way? That sums up my Friday. Started off on the wrong side of bed, and it was a bad downhill ride from there. In a nutshell, that’s what went down.

So, who am I in this grand cosmic joke? Not just any regular Joe, that’s for sure. Recently, I got the lowdown on some special-traits test results, and guess what? They confirmed the secret I’ve been in on for years – my brain’s doing its own funky dance, different from the crowd. It’s like discovering you’ve been playing life on expert mode and the instruction manual got lost in the mail.

Then, as if on cue, my boss drops a meeting on my calendar at 3pm, a solid punchline to the joke that was my day, way beyond my usual “see ya!” time. I went from zero to sixty in no time flat. The rest of the day? Let’s just call it a wash. My partner Mo, sensing the brewing tempest, executed a flawless strategic withdrawal, leaving me to stew in my own juices. Dealing with having-special-powers means embracing a unique set of hurdles, like craving routine and experiencing the world in HD. It’s a road of self-discovery, and while I’ve clocked some serious miles, days like today remind me the journey’s far from over.

In a desperate bid for a reset, I hit the MoZ trail for some bike therapy. Did it work? Not a chance. I was still smoldering a day later. But, you know what? Life marches on, and so do I. Opening up about my s-p-e-c-i-a-l journey is my way of bridging gaps and spreading a little enlightenment. It’s a spectrum of experiences that’s sculpted the masterpiece that is me.

And speaking of masterpieces, let’s take a detour down memory lane with some highlights from my blog here. From the captivating vistas of Cape Lookout State Park to the frosty challenges of the Togwotee Winter Classic, each post is a chapter of my adventure love story and my embrace of the wild. Whether it’s pedaling past Lolo Hot Springs or navigating the choppy waters of job uncertainty, each tale is a puzzle piece of my saga.

Starting with my latest adventure in 2023 at Cape Lookout State Park, a place where beauty and peace stood in stark contrast to today’s chaos, reminding me that, like navigating ASD’s challenges, venturing into the unknown can unearth tranquility and insights.

Rewinding to 2016, my Dear Bozeman post echoes today’s frustrations, a call for respect on the roads that mirrors my plea for understanding and patience in the social dance and life’s sudden shifts.

In 2015, the Togwotee Winter Classic paralleled today’s trials with its test of endurance and willpower, a reminder of the resilience needed to face personal and societal hurdles related to my-special-powers.

2011‘s Hucker captured a day like today, a much-needed release from the day’s tensions, finding freedom in adrenaline-fueled moments of me.

Ah, the serene “Spring Sun” of 2010 – a digital haven on Spring Sun that sprinkled a little magic on an otherwise roller-coaster of a day (seriously, is there an echo in here?). It’s like the universe’s way of whispering, “Hey, it’s not all chaos; here’s a slice of peace and beauty for you, served fresh.”

Then there was 2008, a year that threw us onto two unforgettable roller coasters: the scenic Lolo Hot Springs Ride and the adrenaline-pumping Broken Shifter, both tales that make you want to throw your hands in the air and shout, “Bring it on, life!” amidst laughter. Right, I need to find joy and growth in journeys, despite the occasional rut.

2007‘s Getting Ready to Go resonated with the anticipation and prep for new quests, much like the mental gearing up required to tackle challenging days, is what I do best.

And 2004‘s contemplation on Waiting To Be Laid Off echoed the anxiety and suspense that often accompanies me-being-special, especially when facing the unknown or waiting on outcomes beyond my control. Yikes!

Finally, 2002‘s Wallingford Mountain Biking adventure, a mud-splattered ride of joy and fulfillment, served as a reminder that sometimes, plowing through the muck is the only way to find happiness and satisfaction on the other side. Yummy, and I now get a warm feeling of rembering how long a journey life has been so far. I feel better.

Each post, a thread linked to my feelings today, paints a picture of a journey marked by discovery, challenge, and joy, serving as beacons that, despite the rough patches, each experience, like my special-powers, weaves a unique pattern in the tapestry of my life.

Ah, the life of a perpetual wanderer or, as I like to call it, my usual gig. You see, there’s something almost poetic about the routine – across the tracks, over the bridge, and then, like a magician’s grand finale, poof! Out of town. Each journey starts with that first step, or in my case, a steadfast pedal, since my bicycle and I have become quite the inseparable duo on these expeditions.

This isn’t just about covering distances; it’s about the stories that unfold between the start and end points. Like that time a squirrel decided it was a prime moment to play chicken as I was zooming down the trail. Or the unexpected detour that led me to the most quaint little café I’ve ever stumbled upon, serving what I now swear is the elixir of life disguised as coffee.

It’s these moments, these snippets of adventure, that make each trip more than just a route but a collection of experiences. Sure, to the untrained eye, it might seem like I’m just circling around aimlessly, but for those in the know, each ride is an epic saga. So, here’s to the tracks, the bridges, and the ever-alluring beyond. May the road be ever in our favor!

Ever feel like you hit a wall of exhaustion every afternoon? Well, you’re not alone. For the past couple of years, right around 2 PM, I’ve been smacked with a wave of fatigue so strong it’s like my body’s demanding a hard reset. I’m 58, working from home, and yes, I’ve wondered if this is just what getting older feels like.

But here’s the thing – I refuse to accept that. So, I’ve become a bit of a self-care detective, piecing together clues from my Oura ring, diet, and lifestyle to crack the case of the midday crash.

First off, I’m a champion sleeper – my Oura ring swears by it. But despite clocking in 7 to 8 hours nightly, I’m still dog-tired by lunchtime. I’ve got this ritual of two cups of coffee before 10 AM (never after), and I follow an anti-inflammatory diet, steering clear of manufactured oils and practicing intermittent fasting.

Post-vaccine, I felt a shift – the second shot threw me for a loop with fatigue that’s been hard to shake. But I keep moving, mountain biking daily without pushing too hard, because let’s face it, exercise is the elixir of life, right?

Now, my Oura tells me I’m walking the equivalent of over 21 miles a week, my resting heart rate’s a cool 43 bpm – thank you, biking – and my blood oxygen level is chilling at 97%. On paper, I’m the picture of health. But my energy levels tell a different story.

I’ve tinkered with my diet, played around with meal timings, and loaded up on electrolytes. I’ve basked in the morning sun like a cat seeking a warm spot, all to regulate those mysterious circadian rhythms. And stress? I’ve tried to show it the door with every trick in the book. Yet, here I am, trying to outwit this unwelcome afternoon guest.

So, what’s next for me? I’ve got a few aces up my sleeve – short, invigorating walks post-lunch, power naps that are more like power blinks, and staying hydrated like it’s my job. And I’m keeping a journal, logging my quests and missteps, because if there’s one thing I love more than biking, it’s a good mystery.

If you’ve ever felt like me, worn out when the day’s only half done, stay tuned. Together, we’ll figure out how to keep our engines running all day long. Because there’s a trail out there with my name on it, and I’ll bet there’s one with yours too.

Catch you on the flip side.

Just last weekend, my other half rolled out of bed, nursing what we figured was just a cranky neck. Little did we suspect, we were on the verge of diving headfirst into a five-day epic, a true test of our patience, our ability to catch some Z’s, and our mad Googling prowess. Picture this: the serene whispers of the night rudely shattered by the unexpected yelps of neck agony. Yep, that became our nightly jam. Despair? It pretty much invited itself in for an extended stay, like that one party guest who just doesn’t get the hint.

Here’s the thing about life throwing you a curveball like a sore neck turning into a five-alarm emergency: you learn a lot about each other. You learn that at 3 a.m., neither of you is as rational as you’d like to think. And that the question, “Should we call an ambulance?” can actually be a topic of debate.

The lack of sleep was a given. We were like two zombies, shuffling around, bumping into furniture, and muttering about cervical spines and ice packs. Sleep became this mythical creature we’d both heard about but couldn’t quite capture. Despair was in the air, sure, but so was determination.

We were in this bizarre dance of trying to keep it together, running on fumes and the hope that the next day would be better. It’s funny, in a way, how these moments of despair can bring you closer. You find humor in the absurdity of it all, like debating the merits of different neck pillows at 4 a.m. or the sudden expertise in chiropractic care you both seem to have acquired overnight.

In the end, though, it’s not just the gloom and the endless nights of tossing and turning that cling to me. It’s this little nudge, this reminder that we’re in this wacky ride together, navigating through stiff necks and the unavoidable zombie-mode days that trail behind. Life has this quirky habit of tapping you on the shoulder—sometimes gently, other times with a stiff neck and a generous dose of pandemonium. But it’s always, without fail, sprinkled with a dash of humor to light the way.

On This Day

My past posts from Feb 28th in history.

View

Ah, the classic tale of plans gone awry, leading to unexpected adventures. “What should we do today?” Mo’s question hung in the air like a frisbee waiting to be caught. And me? I was simmering in a pot of frustration, stewing over our scrapped camping plans and the looming evening obligations—a friend’s birthday group call. Given my choice, I’d choose to escape the confines of home for bike ride in the woods.

I was feeling the Grrrrr. My response to Mo was a masterclass in trying not to sound like a grumpy cat. “I don’t know,” I said, each word dripping with a thinly veiled irritation that I hoped sounded more like indifference. However, as my anger began to deflate like a poorly sealed camping mattress, fate steered us to Milltown, MT, just a skip away from Missoula.

With our gravel bikes in tow—mine affectionately dubbed Orca, and Mo’s known as El—we set off on the path to Milltown Park Confluence Area. The state park, with its gravel bars ripe for exploration and a pedestrian bridge arching over the Blackfoot River, was the perfect antidote to my earlier mood. The ride toward Turah, Montana, was therapy on two wheels, a balm for the soul that only biking can provide.

Yet, as the day stretched on, a nostalgic whim struck me. How splendid it would be to pedal all the way home, reminiscent of days when spontaneity was our only compass. Ignoring this instinct, we veered off course to revisit the haunts of our past rides—the legendary TNR Woody mountain route. But as we arrived at the crossroads of Time and Space, everything had changed. The once welcoming access road was now barred by a stern “No Trespassing” sign, and the familiar escape routes from Woody had transformed into a tableau straight out of a dystopian novel—a Republican stronghold, complete with evidence of tank-piercing ammunition and the macabre sight of boiling deer heads.

Caught between nostalgia and the reality of change, I realized that even the familiar streets of Milltown had evolved. The day took an unexpected turn, morphing into a strangely captivating journey. Despite the occasional moment of bike-pouting, my Milltown ride became a celebration of past friendships, the therapeutic power of cycling, and the beauty of the ever-shifting landscape of time and space.

On This Day

On this day in history, let’s take a nostalgic ride through the blog posts from February 27th over the years:

• 2023: Laws – As I look at the desolate scene before me, I can’t help but think about broken laws. Of course, the laws of nature. The branches in the dune stand stark and lifeless, violating the rule of life. The ocean scrub trees, bent and gnarled, are a testament to the force of the wind, powerful elements…
• 2018: Has the World Moved On? –
• 2016: Glide – Last night I was battling the 40 hour work week with a trail run. Well … when I trail run it is more like a crippled old man stumble. Walking up and stumbling down with ouch-knee. A shadow moved across the ground in front of me causing me to look up. I hit the deck…
• 2015: Canyon – Going back to Canyon this summer … it looks like.
• 2014: Training For JBFP – JayP’s Backyard Fat Pursuit, a 200k fat bike race from Island Park to West Yellowstone. I am questioning why I signed up for this one. Yes, it is what I always wanted. And yes I always tell everyone that my “comfy zone” is all alone on a 100 mile stretch in a raging blizzard. But that is what I say…
• 2010: Montana – This is part 5 in a series of blog posts that I am dedication to my favorite photos of 2009. Today’s inductee and now a resident in my “Mountains” photo album is “Montana“. I took this photo April 12th, 2009 at 6:28 AM just 28 minutes from yesterday’s photo. I was headed to Butte to…
• 2008:
  • Riding Goes South – To the South Hills that is! Tonight I went on the Lower Miller Creek Road and then Back on the Miller Creek Road. Before entering town I hit Garrett Street and road around in the South Hills. The weather went south as it started to drizzle half way through the outing.
  • Resting at 33 – Well, well, well, folks! Bill here, and I’ve got a little health update to share. No, I’m not claiming to be 33 years old, but guess what? My resting heart rate this morning decided to take a trip down memory lane and clocked in at a spry 33 beats per minute! Now, that’s a number…
• 2007: Blackfoot River Road Ride – Howdy, folks! Bill here, gearing up for a two-hour recovery spin up Route 200. I’ve got my sights set on making it to the lodge by 8 PM my time for tonight’s chat. So, see you then! … Two Hours Pass … 7:50 PM: I just rolled back from the Blackfoot ride, and I made…
• 2004:
  • Shock jocks shocked – Chicago Tribune: Radio shock jock Howard Stern hosts a crude program that has been yanked off the air in six of the markets where it has aired. That prompted many of his fans in San Diego, Pittsburgh, Louisville, Fort Lauderdale, Orlando and Rochester, NY, to spend…
  • Biker lauds IOC transgender plan – B.C. competitor feels `vindicated“ Born a man, but cycles as woman by GEOFF BAKER SPORTS REPORTER for Toronto Star Champion mountain biker Michelle Dumaresq knows all about the struggles of being born a man and competing as a woman. Few believed that the female hormone treatments she took after a sex change operation in 1996…

Dive into each year’s tales and see how the journey unfolds!

Ah, the great outdoors—a natural spa, if you will, but it seems the masseuse got their certification from the back of a cereal box. Picture this: not too long ago, we ventured out from the snuggly warmth of the Fairmont RV Resort, hearts brimming with the spirit of adventure, blissfully unaware of the backache looming on the horizon. Our noble steeds for the day? Fat bikes. The quest? To tackle the Copper Way Regional Trail by the scenic Silver Bow Creek, where winter stages its own magical light show, turning the water into a mirror reflecting the sky’s mood.

As we hit the road, the landscape unfurled like a scene from a Bob Ross painting, with the creek snaking through like a stroke of brilliant blue under the benevolent watch of a cerulean sky. It was one of those moments that makes you appreciate how ice, in its silent majesty, can give even the most snap-worthy spots a run for their money. Our path paralleled the train tracks, a harmonious blend of history and nature.

We managed a commendable two and a half miles before the snow deemed us not worthy of further exploration. The journey back? Picture a mechanical bull scenario, but strip away any semblance of grace and add several layers of thermal gear. Mo and I, through a ballet of bumps and lurches, solidified our bond—not through the joys of fat biking, but by acknowledging our shared preference for adventures on the less bouncy side.

On this day in history:

2023: Hidden – If there was a biography about you, what would the title be? I stand on the shore, gazing out at the endless expanse of ocean before me.

2016: Remembering 11 Years Ago Today – One of my fondest memories was a ridge snowshoe with my friend Alden the we did back in 2005.

2015: Lucy and Buck – From 1803-1806, in an exciting journey to the Pacific Ocean and back, Lucy and Buck’s Corps of Discovery mapped the lands.

2014: Life Path – Last weekend my partner and I did a ride from Wise River to Elkhorn Hot Springs and then back the next day.

2012: SMSS – Alright, listen up! Sunday morning? More like Sunday Mourning Shit Show, or SMSS.

2010: Push – This is part 4 in a series of blog posts that I am dedication to my favorite photos of 2009.

2008: Cyclist v.s. Mother Nature – Oh, today’s the day for a beastly two-hour spin! Who’s up for the challenge?

2006: Geeze … Gotta Get Get Going – G5 – I guess you have to be there … in my mind. Too many coffees!

2006: Blackfoot Ride To Potomac – Hey there, friends! Bill checking in after a fantastic day that ended with me glued to the closing ceremonies of the Olympics.

2005: Lolo Peak Area Today – My friend Alden Wright and I have teamed up this weekend to snowshoe up a East ridge of Lolo Peak.

2004: JOB UPDATE – As you all know the government has canceled comanche. Sikorsky aircraft along with UTC has no clue what to do with us.

2003: Computer Funnies – At a recent computer expo (COMDEX), Bill Gates reportedly compared the computer industry with the auto industry.

2002: Me Fat – Today is blue. I am blue because my body fat reduction and/or weight are not where I want it to be. I seem to be gaining weight with muscle mass.

From the latest outdoor misadventures back to a time of personal reflections and career uncertainties, this list offers a chronological reverse journey through the captivating and varied experiences shared in blog form.

Ah, the passage of time. Remember that scene in Interstellar where Matthew McConaughey ages 23 years while chilling on another planet? Yeah, feels about right. Has it really been six years since I last strapped on skate skis, looking like a baby deer learning to walk on ice skates? Denial is strong, folks, because I swear it was just… two years ago? Yeah, right. My last vivid memory isn’t even in our beloved Missoula, but Mammoth WY in Yellowstone Park, a different world, a different lifetime.

Fast forward to a couple days ago, where Mo and I decided to tackle Pattee Canyon, practically our Missoula backyard. Stepping into those familiar bindings felt like slipping into a comfy pair of jeans… that shrunk in the dryer. Sure, they fit, but you ain’t doing any high kicks without risking wardrobe malfunction. 2.2 miles later, and let me tell you, I was done-zo. Wasted. Kaput. Felt like I went through the car wash on high pressure, inside out.

Funny how time and distance play tricks on you in the great outdoors. What used to be a warmup felt like a trek through Mordor. But hey, even with the huffing, puffing, and realization that my fitness peaked somewhere in the early 2000s, the pure joy of gliding with Mo was magical. The scenery, the crisp air, the shared laughter – it was like a perfect storm of “why don’t we do this more often?” mixed with “oh yeah, because my lungs are staging a coup.”

So, here’s to reclaiming old passions, accepting that time is a sneaky thief, and remembering that while the spirit is willing, the body sometimes needs a pep talk (and maybe a donut break). Let’s not wait another six years, eh? Because as Beyoncé wisely sang, “if you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it” – in this case, the ring being regular trips to the mountains, not diamonds (although diamonds are nice too). Remember, friends, getting older is inevitable, but staying young at heart? Totally optional. Let’s choose the latter, with slightly more breaks and maybe a slightly smaller mountain next time.

Feb 24 in History:

2023: Law – Pondering the power to change a law, symbolized by a branch’s stability on the beach amidst crashing waves.

2017: Team MoBill Part 4 – Encounters – The beginning of the Team MoBill Story, tracing its origins back to 2010 and an Adventure Cycling holiday party.

2012: Taking the long way – Reflecting on a preference for the scenic route, even if it means arriving after dark.

2010: Spirit – Part of a series on favorite 2009 photos, featuring Zepahnie Blasi taking in the Pipestone Valley’s vastness.

2008: Great Riding in Seeley – Chronicles a training ride to Seeley Lake and supporting friends at the Snow Joke Half Marathon.

2007: Home Safely – A brief update on a safe return home and a casual mention of enjoying “Double Haul” at the “Board Room.”

2007: Product Review – Sharing insights from a 50-mile ride, including the aftermath of cleaning up and a hearty pasta meal.

2002: Sleeping Giant Hike – A recount of a challenging hike that could tire even Paul Bunyan, exploring the Sleeping Giant.

2002: Cool – COOL: Discovering a website dedicated to the frequently hiked mountain range.

As a relatively new addition to Bill’s life, I, Blue, have quickly learned that humans are indeed complex creatures, especially when they start pondering the intricacies of happiness on a sunny porch. There I was, basking in the warmth of the sun, a simple joy for a cat like me, when Bill launched into an introspective journey that had me tilting my head more than once.

2023: Imagine That – Bill reminisced about capturing moments of wonder last year. To him, those memories signified happiness. I remember purring contentedly in his lap, intrigued by the joy humans find in memories captured in time.

2022: Bill and Mo’s Fantastic Day Out – Bill’s tales of desert adventures and the bond he shared made me wish I could have been there, chasing lizards and feeling the sand under my paws. It seemed happiness for humans was about shared experiences.

2018: Setbacks – The story of near disaster with the Element and a farmer was a bit beyond me. I guess happiness for humans is as much about overcoming challenges as it is about peaceful sunbathing.

2012: Little Bear Creek – The adventure and perseverance Bill talked about made me think of my own daring jumps and climbs. Perhaps there’s a common thread of finding happiness in overcoming obstacles, whether you’re human or feline.

2010: Rebecca In Town & Pipestone – Hearing about the joy of gatherings and explorations, I couldn’t help but feel a bit envious. My own adventures are usually solo, but I understand the happiness that comes from being part of a group.

2009: Grand Ride in Bitterroots – Bill’s mixed feelings about winter rides made me grateful for my fur coat and the simple pleasure of a warm spot in the sun. It’s funny how happiness can be so situational.

2008: Off to Seeley Lake – The spontaneity of human adventures is something I admire. It’s a reminder that sometimes, happiness is about embracing the unexpected, much like a sudden leap onto a previously unexplored shelf.

2007: I’m No Fake – Bill’s reflections on authenticity made me ponder the straightforward nature of cat life. We are who we are, and perhaps there’s happiness in that simplicity.

2004: Pentagon to Cancel Comanche & New Poem in Literature Menu – The shift to more somber topics was a bit lost on me, but I sensed Bill’s mood change. It’s curious how humans can swing from joy to sadness, their happiness so closely tied to their thoughts and the world around them.

2002: What’s Up In Plattsburgh? & Psycho – The contrast between community joy and personal turmoil was stark. It made me think about the stability of my four walls and the consistent joy I find in the small things, like a full food bowl and a warm lap.

Sitting there, listening to Bill’s winding tales, it struck me—humans really are complex. Their happiness is a mosaic of experiences, relationships, emotions, and reflections. As for me, I find happiness in the simple things: the warmth of the sun, the comfort of Bill’s lap, and the gentle rhythm of a human heart. Maybe, in sharing these moments with Bill, I’m part of his mosaic too, a small piece of the complex puzzle of human happiness.

Ah, the great outdoors! Today, we’re diving into the dos and don’ts of the Copperway Trail, a 14.5-mile slice of heaven nestled between Deer Lodge and Silver Bow Counties, with a special shoutout to the Silver Bow Creek Greenway Project.

First things first, do keep your eyes peeled for eagles along the trail. They’re not just for decoration, folks.

Remember, the trails are not just for you but for the snow too. So, use a fatbike if that happens. Don’t touch that devil dust.

Last but certainly not least, enjoy the silverbow creek or river, whatever it is.

On this day in history:

• 2023: Ignore Adventure
• 2020: What am I doing?
• 2018: Try and Continue
• 2015: The Urban Legend Winter Edition
• 2015: My favorite podcast
• 2012: Monday Monday
• 2010: Best Day Yet
• 2008: The Fork is Out For Refurb
• 2008: YouTuber Makes Comment
• 2002: Morning Coffee Brings Sunshine

Dive into these snapshots of life’s adventures, from musings on the simplicity of daily moments to the thrill of outdoor exploration. Each post is a testament to the journey of self-discovery and the ever-evolving adventure of life.

Oh boy, let me tell you about the legendary US West Trail. It’s like Mother Nature decided to test the mettle of us mere mortals – starts off pretending to be your friend with a brutal climb that’ll have your legs begging for mercy before you’ve even hit the halfway mark. And just when you think you’ve made peace with the uphill battle, it throws a curveball – a sidehill single track that’s more on the “yikes” side of thrilling. Seriously, one wrong move and you might as well RSVP to a tumbleweed party in East Missoula.

But here’s the kicker – it’s my winter wonderland. While most trails are doing their best impression of the Ice Age, the US West Trail basks in just enough sun to shed its snowy coat. It’s like it knows we need our outdoor fix, providing a clear path for those of us brave (or crazy) enough to tackle it.

So, to all my fellow outdoor enthusiasts, if you’re looking for a trail that offers a bit of everything – challenge, beauty, and a touch of danger (with a safety net of pancakes at the end) – US West Trail is your jam. Just remember, it’s all fun and games until someone ends up as a snowman in East Missoula. Happy trails, friends!

On this day in history:

• 2023: The sweet taste of adventure – A whimsical query into everyone’s favorite candy serves as a metaphor for the varied flavors of adventure life offers.
• 2012: Tree fight – Bill reflects on the frustrations of being cheap and lazy, leading to a humorous yet insightful look at personal growth and the occasional battle with nature.
• 2010: Artistic Juice – After a recovery hike, Bill muses on photography and the creative process, offering a glimpse into the soulful side of outdoor exploration.
• 2008: Road Riding West of Missoula Day 2 – A repeat of a challenging route with a friend, complete with dubbed climbs and a touch of humor to lighten the grueling journey.
• 2008: So What is Boneshakerbike – An origin story of sorts, Bill explains the significance behind his email addresses and account names, linked to his biking team and the handcrafted bikes they rode.
• 2007: Another Day, Another Turn of the Crank – A contemplative morning in Missoula, Montana, sparks thoughts on the joys of mountain biking and the beauty of Big Sky country.
• 2002: Great Day For a Mountain Bike Ride – Bill shares his enthusiasm for a day perfect for mountain biking, along with plans for a hike with his dog, highlighting the simple pleasures of outdoor activities.
• 2001: 2 Hour Ride – A light-hearted post-ride reflection, Bill compares his biking adventures to the comedic twists of the movie “Shanghai Noon,” finding joy in the unexpected.

Each post, a story; each story, a memory etched into the trails of time, inviting you to pedal along through the pages of my adventures.

Picture this, folks: Montana mountains, snowflakes swirling like sugarplums, yours truly and my trusty sidekick Mo, embarking on a pilgrimage to the mythical Fairmont Hot Springs. Destination: steamy bliss under the big sky. Mission: post-soak superhero workout in the RV park, leaving Wolverine in the dust.

Now, here’s the plot twist juicier than a huckleberry pie: after melting into those magical pools, with the wind whispering “brisk” at a balmy 5 degrees, our ironclad plans evaporated faster than a snowball on a Fourth of July barbecue. The mere thought of performing bear crawls in that frosted landscape had us giggling like chipmunks caught stealing sunflower seeds from Grandma’s porch. Can you see it? Me, flailing about like a confused flamingo, sending distress signals that would make even Bigfoot raise an eyebrow. The moose would’ve called animal control, and the spa staff would’ve been dusting off the rescue dogs.

So, did I ditch the workout? You bet your sweet bippy I did. But hold your horses, skeptics! Sometimes, the best plans – even those of mountain-biking mice – are destined for glorious detours, especially when they lead to unplanned laughter and relaxation. In the grand scheme of things, skipping a few burpees is a mere mosquito bite on the arm of life. It’s the unexpected hot spring sojourns, the shared giggles in the face of fitness faux pas, that truly nourish the soul.

Think of it this way: my night was an alternative workout. A hardcore session in plan-flexibility (not the limb-bending kind) and character-strengthening (braving the elements, figuratively and literally). Plus, who knows? Maybe there’s a hidden muscle group that thrives solely on the magic of hot springs. If not, well, hey, I just discovered the perfect excuse to ditch the bear crawls more often.

On this day in history:

• 2023: Ropes in the Ocean
• 2022: Traveling Zion Slideshow
• 2021: Obsession
• 2012: Rescue
• 2010: Thursday Night Meet Up
• 2008: Road Riding West O Missoula
• 2007: Spring Training
• 2006: Beetle In Peril – Looking Back
• 2002: Back to Training, Brookfield Park MTB Tonight
• 2001: I Can Only Do So Much

Each post captures a unique moment, from thrilling adventures to contemplative reflections, embodying the spirit of evolving adventures through the years.