Category: Blog Posts

There I was, en route to Missoula in the soft glow of sunrise – a scenario that typically plays out in reverse. That’s when it hit me, something’s off. This isn’t a journey back from Zootown; it’s a dream refusing to let me rest. With a jolt, I’m awake, peering out into the morning as clouds gather like spectators waiting for a show to start. Today’s the day before my bike packing trip, and nature’s brewing up a dramatic backdrop.

Fast forward to tonight, my phone breaks the silence with a crackling update, “I made it… gotta run.” Just like that, a pang of something – a mix of pride, longing, and a dash of heartache – reminds me why I’m doing this. It’s not just about the ride; it’s about finding focus, embracing solitude. This weekend’s mantra? “Alone training.” It’s not just preparation; it’s a ritual, a necessary step for facing giants like the Tour Divide.

As snow clouds threaten with their looming presence, my resolve only strengthens. The weather’s challenge is but a whisper compared to the roar of my determination. Packing continues, each piece of gear a promise of miles to conquer and moments to savor in solitude.

Next stop? REI, for one last essential – a bivy. The adventure calls, not just as a journey across terrain, but as a voyage within, training alone to stand together with giants.

At the top of my website I used to state “You fall apart just to put things back together with the way you want them“. And now while running up a ridge in the Bridger Range I am beginning to understand what I so carelessly posted. 

Little did I know that last weekend’s Barking Spider was the “You fall apart” part. And for most of the middle of the race I did just that, I fell completely apart. As I neared the finish line I decided to try and make the most of it and at least salvage a good finish. I had been pushing the “surge” button with no luck so far but something inside told me to try again. The race up until now was just water under the bridge.

“Please, please, you can do it”, I muttered to myself as I clicked the mental button. I barely had time to lock out my fork and my pace quickened. I just held on to the bars as I jetted past the guy in front of me and sprinted to the line. Overall I was 11th, in cat 1 I was 7th. And my age group … 4th. Not what I expected. On the drive back home later I needed a moment alone and asked the driver of our car to stop and let me go figure things out.

 I found a nice spot under a tree and starred out over the river. “I just fell apart”, I whispered to myself.

I collected myself and stepped back into the car. Lots of times I’ll take photos to help distract myself from painful thoughts. The scenery did not disappoint. Snap. Snap. My camera’s shutter was going constantly on the way home. 

One last interval up the Bridgers and I gave it all I had. I flew up the mountain surprisingly fast. I reached the top to a marvelous view. As I stand there clutching my knees, bent over trying to catch my breath, I realize something. This is the “put things back together with the way you want them” part.

So picture this: I’m barreling down the highway towards Boise, landmarks ticking off like items on a grocery list. One of them, this majestic elk sculpture perched on a Kooskia roof, always catches my eye. This race, I was the barking spider champ, and seeing that elk? It felt like it was mirroring my pre-race pump-up, antlers high, ready to defend my title. Yeah, right?

Famous last words, eh? Click, click went the surge button, but nadda. Not a peep. Now, I wasn’t panicking. This rodeo clown’s seen this bull before. Stick with the pack, wait for another chance, that’s the motto. We were all strung out like Christmas lights, but I had the big picture. The pros, sure, they were a tad ahead on the climb, but nothing insurmountable. Then, bam! Someone attacks, threatening to catch the lead four if they keep pushing. Someone chases them, and I’m stuck behind this dude who looks like he’s run out of gas (and let’s be honest, same).

But hey, a little self-reflection never hurt anyone, right? Why wasn’t that surge button working? Maybe the 7-hour car ride, fueled by pure “gotta get there” adrenaline, had something to do with it. No pee stops, no food, just this tunnel vision of the finish line. I scolded myself for skipping breakfast, that glorious fuel for champions. The whole trip was a blur, like watching “The Flash” on fast-forward. And here I was, paying the piper.

Then, boom! The dude in front just stops. “Oh great,” I grumble, picturing dominoes falling. But wait, a steep climb jolts me back to reality. Suddenly, the crashed dude and the one who stopped zoom past me like I’m stuck in molasses. Turns out, they’re tag-teaming it! Just like that, my podium dreams evaporate, 3rd place dissolving into a disappointing 5th in Cat 1. By the second lap, it’s every man for himself, a strung-out line of cyclists battling the elements and fading hopes. My post-race report card wasn’t looking pretty in my head, let me tell you.

But hey, gotta keep pushing, right? I locked onto a racer, pulling out every trick in the book to catch him. Maybe, just maybe, I could snag that position back near the end… and maybe, just maybe, win the whole shebang. Now that’s a story worth writing.

Oh, life’s got this funny way of piling on, doesn’t it? Last night, I bit off way more than I could chew: cramming in a half-day of work, squeezing in a date, then zipping off to Boise, Idaho for a race. Seriously, what was I thinking? Clearly, not with the part of my brain that stops to smell the roses—or appreciate a sunset, for that matter. It’s wild how life can be a tangled mess one minute and a masterpiece of beauty the next.

Fast forward to hitting the road, and who do I start missing? My partner in crime, that’s who. Shoutout for the awesome dinner date—truly the calm before the storm. Now, onto the next adventure: race, race, and race back home. Talk about a whirlwind. Life’s complicated, folks.

Back in my old haunt, Missoula, squeezing in one of those quick, gritty workouts.

Took on Sentinel after chaining myself to my desk all day. With daylight slipping through my fingers, I sprinted for the trailhead and soon found myself on a ridge, practically touching the clouds.

Managed to snag some time to test out the new camera, too. Here I am, twisting the swivel screen to snap a shot from underneath—felt a bit like a sci-fi movie, but in a “Big Brother is watching” kind of way.

Time slipped away as quickly as my feet carried me down the mountain. Oh well, it’s better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick!

Oh, this week? It’s been a circus, juggling my full-time gig with way too much travel. You know the drill—yada, yada, yada. I bet you’re rolling your eyes at yet another moan-fest. Trust me, I’m right there with you. Seriously, I’m not even sure who I’m venting to anymore. Sleep’s been on my wish list, but instead of waking up refreshed, I feel like a zombie. What’s missing? Oh, just my entire exercise routine. No cycling, no nothing. Yep, I’ve turned into a couch potato by profession. The grind of the working world really knows how to kick you when you’re down. But hey, no time to drown my sorrows in a beer—I had to hit the road to Missoula today.

But first, a pit stop at Pipestone was on the cards. Despite my best attempts to pack, work a full shift, and beat the sunset, all I managed was to roll into Pipestone with just an hour of daylight left. That’s gotta count for something, right?

I’m up for work, and so far, the lack of exercise this week isn’t sitting well with me. Life gets so hectic when you’re working full-time. Standing there, I felt a mix of emptiness and a spark of adventurous wonder. Another day. Almost a new week. Glancing up, I noticed the sun was on the brink of rising, so I spun around and dashed for my camera.

I watched the car turn the corner and waved goodbye, once again. There I was, rooted to the spot, basking in a cocktail of emptiness sprinkled with a dash of adventurous optimism. Ah, the dawn of a new day, the start of another week. Glancing up, I caught the prelude to sunrise, and boy, did that get me moving! I spun on my heel and dashed for my camera like it was Black Friday and I was after the last discounted TV.

I got my Nex-5n last week some time but I have been so busy I have not been able to take it out of the box until today. Mo suggested I bring along my camera when we were getting ready to visit downtown Bozeman for some culinary delights. So I grabbed my new device and we headed out. After a good meal we decided to go hang out and relax at a city park lake. Once there I whipped it out.

I started to snap off things randomly. Like a close up of an old leaf with the sun shining through to test its macro capabilities.

Then Mo spotted a visual sensation as all the buildings across the lake were reflecting in the water. So I tested the Zoom capabilities. Pretty cool.

Then the sun started to set and I started to discover the manual settings on the camera. I had complete control just like my old DSLR. And this little puppy fits into a pocket.

As I snapped off the final photo I discovered the most awesome thing. I was having a great time. Not because of the little device in my hands, but the person sitting next to me.