I just arrived in Missoula but not before stopping off at one of my favorite dirt venues. This time of year when most of Montana is frozen and covered in ice and snow Pipestone has always been to go to for a dirt fix. It stays dry mostly because of the way the weather systems come across the continental divide. In any case there is enough dirt to satisfy any knobby laden cyclist.
This time around I took the Mukluk out for a frolic in the dirt and was surprised to find out that it is pretty fast … downhill. The uphills take a hit as expected by you cant beat just rolling across harsh terrain with some fat rubber underneath you. And …. it is comfy. Like riding a sofa.
My turn around was near a box canyon where a little moisture seemed to still be present and if you know anything about Pipestone then you don’t want to be anywhere around moisture. The sticky clay is so robust it will not even wear off your tires. I have had mtb tires that had Pipestone mud for their entire lifetime stuck to the side walls. And if it gets on your bike … goodbye paint. Thanks god my Mucky is anodized. Kind of like the sport … sticks to ya.
Ugh, me and procrastination, it’s a never-ending love-hate story. Tonight? Small core workout, easy peasy, enough time to pack for Missoula like a boss. Guess what? Nope. Fast forward to me face-planting on the couch, napping harder than a koala after a eucalyptus binge, and Craig Ferguson cackling on repeat on the TV. Whoops.
But hey, sometimes even unplanned naps work their magic. Woke up feeling like a new me, ready to tackle the week with more zen than a meditating panda. Kinda like watching a storm roll into a valley – yeah, it’s gonna be a slog getting out, but if you squint just right (or maybe through a camera lens), it’s kinda beautiful, you know?
So here’s to embracing the unexpected, finding peace in the chaos (and maybe catching up on my packing later ). Missoula, here I come, nap-rejuvenated and ready for whatever adventure awaits, even if it involves navigating my way out of a metaphorical wilderness (or maybe just unpacking a suitcase of wrinkles).
Farewell to Google, on the Ides of March, 2013. And let’s pour one out for http://www.digg.com/reader. May it rest in peace amidst the digital ether.
Tonight’s ride was a profound metaphor for life itself. This Friday, I’ll be hitting the road to support a friend through surgery, marking the start of a challenging six-month recovery for them. The thought of their swift shift from an active lifestyle to enforced stillness is heart-wrenching. I can only imagine the whirlwind of emotions they’re experiencing. Sure, there’s the parallel of rehab to training—both require dedication and hard work, though the former, I suspect, carries a heavier emotional weight.
My ride tonight began as a testament to perseverance. I chose Olsen Creek from a list of snowmobile trails, greeted by muddy conditions that had me questioning the feasibility of my journey. As I progressed, the snow’s embrace reassured me, reminiscent of the initial denial one faces after an injury—clinging to a sliver of hope that things aren’t as dire as they appear.
However, the trail soon mirrored the harsh realities of accepting and adapting to life’s curveballs. My bike faltered, sinking into an unexpectedly deep rut, a clear sign that my journey—and perhaps my denial—needed reevaluation. Unlike my friend, who bravely faced their reality with immediate action, my instinct has always been to shy away from seeking help, preferring to wait out the storm.
The trek became a mixture of riding and trudging, each step a reminder of the setbacks and small victories that define recovery. Despite the challenges, the journey offered stunning views of the Bridger Range, culminating in a thrilling descent—a reminder of the beauty and joy that perseverance can unveil.
My adventure on snowshoes tonight brought back a decade-old memory, highlighting the indispensable value of the right tools in navigating life’s challenges. Snowshoes transformed my journey across the crusted snow of Baldy Mountain, allowing me to traverse with relative ease, though the ridgeline’s rocky outcrops presented their own dangers.
Navigating this rugged terrain, I encountered a harrowing moment—a literal cliffhanger, saved only by the fortuitous snag of my gear. This experience was a stark reminder of the precariousness of our paths and the unexpected twists that can quickly alter our course.
Standing atop Baldy Mountain, amidst howling winds and swirling snow, I reflected on the day’s adventures and the parallel journeys of recovery and exploration. It was a moment of gratitude for the ability to move forward, a celebration of resilience in the face of adversity.
This ride, like life, was a testament to the power of perseverance, the beauty that lies beyond the struggle, and the unwavering hope for a stronger comeback, both for my friend and myself.
On this day in history, Back in the mystical land of ’04, I found myself perched on the edge of destiny, with the “2004 EFTA Race Schedule” in hand. Picture me, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to etch my name onto the unforgiving terrain of cycling lore..
Mondays, right? They’re like a whirlwind that picks you up and doesn’t bother putting you down gently. So, today (or should I say yesterday? No, it’s still today) was a marathon. Kicked off the day bidding adieu to someone, prepped for work, raced against time and still clocked in late, danced the nine-to-five scramble, and floated home in a post-work haze. Then, in a classic plot twist, remembered my workout just in time to procrastinate and doze off on the sofa, with Craig Ferguson providing the soundtrack to my unintended nap. Realized my workout guilt, tackled it, checked in with someone, wrapped up the sweat session, and then—boom—crashed into bed like a log, unaware of my own crash landing.
Now, caught in this weird pre-midnight time warp, I’m trying to piece together the day and wrap up my usual routines. Shower? Ha, who’s got time for that? And then, like discovering treasure in my own home, I stumbled upon a box in the hallway. Oh yes, the cavalry has arrived—my Action Wipes, but not just any; the brand spanking new ones with the upgraded formula and multipack glory.
Here’s the scoop—these wipes are rocking a 100% natural, plant-based preservative, making us trailblazers with a fully natural, body wipe multipack. Sure, other wipes might flirt with 97-98% natural claims, but we’re here to win the game. Why the upgrade? Simple, to combat the bacteria baddies that might sneak into the pack, ensuring every wipe remains a hero until the very last one.
Why haven’t others jumped on this bandwagon? Because good intentions come with a price tag—$60 an ounce for the chemical stuff versus $200 an ounce for our natural goodness. But hey, your skin deserves the best, free from synthetic nasties and harsh chemicals.
And let’s not forget the Cananga odorata (Ylang Ylang) oil—my personal scent superhero. It’s exotic, it’s sensual, and it’s the secret behind that “why do I feel so good?” sensation. Added to strike a perfect harmony with the preservative’s citrus vibes, ensuring the new multipack smells just as heavenly as the singles.
Zeph and a Action Wipe
So, no shower tonight? No problem. A swift Action Wipe refresh, and I’m feeling minty fresh, ready to dive back into dreamland. Hats off to Martha for this genius solution to end a chaotic Monday.
So there I was, updating my social sphere with, “Almost hitting the pavement. Wouldn’t say no to hitching a ride,” on both Twitter and Facebook. Lo and behold, within the span of a quick coffee break, a Ford Focus rolled up. Behind the wheel? Only the most charming lady you could imagine, greeting me like we were long-lost friends. Sure, I might’ve made it back on my own steam, but let’s be real – when I fired off that update, my knee was throwing a tantrum, and I was bracing myself for what felt like an epic trek back, capped off with a cautious bike ride home. The drama? Courtesy of this morning’s misadventure up on the ridge.
Mission: Baldy Mountain
The day’s agenda was straightforward: pedal from my doorstep to conquer Baldy Mountain. It turned out to be a rollercoaster of emotions. One minute, I’m all gung-ho about summiting, the next, it’s looking grim. The turning point came when optimism was at an all-time low. I hit a peak, gazed over at the Baldy ridgeline, and… yeah, not happening. The only way forward was to wade through neck-deep snow for a good quarter mile to reach the clearer ridge, followed by a lengthy traverse. But, plot twist: I forgot my snowshoes. Classic me. So, I turned tail.
Stony Retreat
Then, as if scripted by Murphy himself, disaster struck. My foot crashed through the snow, burying itself up to the shin, and all my weight shifted forward. The snow crust might as well have been concrete, giving my leg a jolt that screamed “something’s wrong.” Luckily, I managed to clamber up to the ridge and hobble down its stony backbone with all the grace of a newborn deer.
Trek over the North Bridgers to Hylite
The ridge, swept by the wind, spared me from some of the snow, but as I neared my snow bike’s hiding spot, I was breaking through the surface left and right. My knee began to voice its displeasure, and I took a few unscheduled dives. My leg was definitely not on board, shocked and weak, utterly indifferent to the stunning day or the breathtaking view of the Hyalite region, with Baldy taunting me in the background. Nope, my leg was staging a full-on protest, embodying the essence of “angry leg.”
Reflecting on it, that social media shout-out did snag me a lift home, but all things considered, it was a solid day. Guess it’s time to take “angry leg” out for another whirl this arvo – wish us luck!
Okay, confess. Who else’s childhood involved precariously balanced towers of playing cards, mismatched Legos, and anything else vaguely rectangular? Yeah, me too. So, when my inner architect suddenly craved a Jenga showdown, the quest was on. Bozeman, our mountain haven, promised adventure, not just aisles of plastic blocks. My map app scoffed at my “scenic route” suggestion, but hey, who needs traffic lights when you have meadows bathed in sunset?
We weaved through backroads, dodging grazing cows and marveling at the Madison Range blushing pink in the evening glow. Every twist and turn felt like a scene from a Montana postcard, complete with the soundtrack of crickets chirping and tires crunching on gravel. We even spotted a majestic bald eagle soaring overhead, reminding us that nature was playing its own epic game out there.
Finally, after navigating a maze of one-way streets and side-eyeing suspicious squirrels (those little buggers are ruthless Jenga thieves, trust me), we reached the holy grail: Target. Pronounced “tar-gae,” of course, with the kind of fondness reserved for good deals and the promise of finding anything your heart desires (or in this case, desperately needs).
The toy aisle greeted us with a symphony of plastic clatter and flashing lights. But alas, no Jenga. Our tower dreams seemed destined to crumble like stale cookies. Undeterred, we embarked on a guerilla search mission, interrogating employees with the urgency of seasoned detectives. Each “Nope, sorry” felt like a Jenga block tumbling from the stack.
But then, just as despair threatened to swallow us whole, a ray of light! (Okay, maybe it was just the fluorescent aisle lighting.) Nestled on a dusty shelf, amidst an army of squeaky stuffed animals, sat our Jenga hero. Victory! We snatched that box like it was the last life raft on a sinking ship.
Back home, amidst the aroma of campfire stew (okay, maybe slightly burnt, but that’s another story), we built our tower. Each block, a testament to our backroad odyssey. Jenga pieces clattered, laughter echoed, and the night pulsed with the thrill of victory. Turns out, the real treasure wasn’t just the game, but the winding road that led us there, the shared adventure, and the sunset that painted the sky in shades of triumph.
So next time you’re craving a good game night, remember, the best adventures are often found off the beaten path. Embrace the detours, savor the backroads, and who knows, you might just stumble upon your own version of Jenga (pronounced “jen-gah,” but seriously, who says it that way?). And hey, if you find yourself in Bozeman, feel free to join the quest. Just beware of the squirrels. They’re onto us.
On this day in history, ‘Hey Zeph! Want an Action Wipe?‘ I asked, after cleaning the blood from my shin.
I learned today that the 24 hour race in West Yellowstone will probably not be on my path this year. Sometimes though you just have to hang your head out the window and enjoy the ride. I am bummed … sure. But for every bad gulp of cough medicine I have a endless amount of good health. What is that you say? I cant hear you. The wind. It’s blowing in my ears.
Time to gaze into that mirror and take a good long look at where we’ve been, where we’re at, and where this crazy road might just lead us to next.
Now, I ain’t gonna lie, the future looks kind of bright. I done went and made myself a decision, put a fancy-schmancy training plan in place and everything! But here’s the catch, folks – I ain’t got no race goals this year. Nope, not a one! They just ain’t doin’ it for me no more, you feel me?
So instead, I dusted off my trusty ol’ LW 24 solo plan and slapped that sucker right on my docket. Can’t have me lookin’ like a plumb fool at Spokane this year, now can I? But that’s just the warm-up act, baby!
Later on down the line, I’m fixin’ to invest in a shiny new 100 mile personal best plan. Gotta see if this old dog can’t teach himself some new tricks and beat that Butte 100 time of mine. If anything, it’ll get me primed and ready for my real new obsession.
We’re talkin’ big ol’ fat tires in the frozen wilderness, multi-day stage races (the unsupported kind, none of that sissy stuff), and bike packin’ like nobody’s business! And the grand-daddy of ’em all? The Susitna 100, baby! Gettin’ jiggy with it in the Alaskan wild!
I know, I know, big plans for an old-timer like me. Here’s my retirement plan, my escape from the mind-numbing monotony of goin’ round and round in circles for 24 hours straight. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to hit that 333 mile mark first, just to prove I can. But after that? It’s fat tire freedom all the way, baby!
On This Day In History
2011: Hot diggity dog, now that was a race to remember! Hairpin turns, heart rates through the roof, and a loose handlebar throwin’ a wrench into the whole shebang. Talk about a nail-biter! I swear, I aged about ten years in that single race.
2010: Would you just look at that meadow? Prettier than a picture, I tell ya. Reminds me of that one time I was out hikin’ with my buddy Jimmy, and we darn near stumbled right into a moose’s backyard. Let’s just say we high-tailed it outta there faster than a jackrabbit on a hot tin roof!
2009: Ah, the joys of battlin’ the dreaded sniffles. It’s like a war zone up in here, with tissues flyin’ every which way and chaos reignin’ supreme. But hey, at least that AI-generated image of impending doom gave me a good chuckle. Gotta find the humor where you can, right?
2008: Speakin’ of good chuckles, how about that Marcy? Cutest darn thing this side of the Mississippi, I tell ya. Nothin’ beats a lazy day off from trainin’, just kickin’ back and hittin’ the trails with your favorite four-legged pal. ‘Course, that Lolo Pass Ride was looming on the horizon, so it was back to the grindstone soon enough.
2006: Now, here’s a doozy for ya! A good ol’ fashioned snowpocalypse, barrelin’ down on us like a freight train. But hey, at least we got to soak up some of that glorious sunshine while it lasted, right? And with friends comin’ to visit, well, that’s just the cherry on top of the sundae!
2006 (again): Ah, yes, the age-old conundrum of privacy versus accessibility. Gotta love those brain-scratchin’ ideas that really get the ol’ noggin churnin’. Course, knowin’ me, I probably got about three sentences in before my mind started wanderin’ off to more pressin’ matters… like what I was gonna have for lunch that day.
Ah, the morning ritual, my friends! You know, the one where you’re not waiting for that pesky alarm clock but rather the sweet beep of your trusty heart rate monitor. Today, I was playing a game of “Can I beat my own heart rate monitor?” Spoiler alert: I usually do. But not today, my friends, not today.
I was expecting that little beep to chime in when my heart rate dipped below 40 beats per minute. But alas, it seems like my body had other plans. Maybe I’m a bit fried, or maybe I just need to embrace the idea of some well-deserved rest. So, what did I decide to do? Well, I considered going back to bed and then casually driving to work. Yep, that sounded like a solid plan.
But hold on to your helmets, because my mind decided to take a detour. Suddenly, I found myself standing between towering granite canyon walls, the wind whipping down a narrow monolithic groove, and my face already frozen from the chill. It was like a blast from winters past in New York City, and I couldn’t help but wonder why the air felt so bone-chilling.
But there I was, right in the middle of it all, climbing through powdery snow toward the summit. And let me tell you, folks, I was in my element. I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be, basking in the beauty of the moment. In fact, I even had that fleeting thought: “I could die a happy person right now.”
And then reality struck like a bolt of lightning. I woke up from this mountainous reverie and realized I was running late for work. Darn it! Time to kick it into gear and get moving.
On This Day In History
2004: Comanche For Hire – Ah, the Sikorsky Comanche, envisioned as the James Bond of helicopters, decked out in stealth technology and promising a new era in aerial missions. Yet, like a Bond movie taking an unexpected turn, its fate hangs in the balance.
2006: lodge rEBUILD – Attention, Web Lodge dwellers! Gather around the virtual campfire, for news abounds! As you know, our beloved chat haven took a tumble recently, leaving us lost in the wilderness of silence.
2007: 1st Place Expert Overall – Hello everyone from sunny and warm Missoula Montana. Last weekend I traveled to Lewiston Idaho and competed in the Devils Slide Mountain Bike Race. Here is my story.
2008: Difference a day makes – Just two days ago, I was battling hypothermia in a snowstorm. Contrastingly, last night’s ride was in sunny, warm weather, albeit brief.
2010: Thrust – This is part 12 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 “Thrust”.
2011: Devils Slide weekend – Ross and I just stood there dumbfounded at our surroundings. The sun hit our faces and we squinted to look around at all the things we once knew but have somehow forgotten.
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.” Pedaling my way to work, I found myself on my special snow bike route, and let me tell you, it felt like I was smack dab in the middle of the Togwotee Winter Classic, battling it out with the elements. I mean, the snow was coming down so thick, I couldn’t see a thing around me. And there I was, just pushing through, half hoping that once this wild storm decided to take a breather, I’d magically find myself chilling in the majestic shadows of the Tetons. A guy can dream, right? Check out the RBB Blog.
On This Day In History
On this day in history, here’s a delightful journey through the archives of my adventurous blog, Let’s delve into some memorable moments:
2002: Great Training Weather – Good morning world! It has been great weather here although it has been cold. I have taken two days off to recover from last weeks training. I seem to be on track to have a great season.
2006: Stupidity Lives On – Ah, the early days of March 2006. The internet feels more like the wild west and less like a valid tool. Let’s dive into the chaos and charm of these times, shall we?
2008: Morning Commute – Riding my K2 to Univision Computers each morning is my mini-epic: me, weaving through the city like a caffeine-fueled hero in a budget action flick.
2008: Makes For Indoor Training – Good morning from Missoula Montana where today is stacking up the be a great day for a road ride.
2010: Meadow Of Giants – This is part 11 in a series of blog posts that I am dedication to my favorite photos of 2009. Today’s latest entry goes by the grand title of “Meadow Of Giants”.
Rolling into my humble abode tonight, I swear the world was spinning faster than usual. Felt like I’d gone ten rounds with a six-pack of Cold Smokes. By the time I stumbled through the door, my head was on a merry-go-round, and my stomach was the ticket collector, eagerly waiting to show me the exit. Trust me, if I dare to stand, I’m just a ticking time bomb ready to redecorate the apartment in ‘Eau de Lunch.’
Hence, this blog entry’s gonna be short and not-so-sweet. Picture me, battling something wickedly akin to vertigo, the kind that usually hits me on sky-high mountain ridges, leaving me feeling like I’m duct-taped to the side of the Grand Teton. So, here I am, sending out an SOS from the floor. Somebody, throw me a lifeline—or at least, pass the bucket.
Oh, let me take you back to that quirky blog post of mine, dubbed “S.O.L.O.,” a little nod to the lone adventurers and occasional racers among us, spiced up with a dash of leisurely dawdling when the journey turns homeward. Let me tell you, today was a textbook example of those days, but with a twist – my partner in crime, Mo, was along for the ride, turning our trek back into an epic tale of camaraderie.
2012: Sharing the trip home – A reflective journey home, filled with adventure, racing, and the beauty of slow returns.
We kicked off our day at the crack of dawn (or what felt like it) at Towgotee Pass, soaking in vistas that had been playing hard to get until now. Trust me, the place is a stunner.
Following our scenic appetizer, we meandered through Teton Valley, and boy, does that place put Bozeman in perspective – like a giant next to a toddler.
2012: Sharing the trip home – A reflective journey home, filled with adventure, racing, and the beauty of slow returns.
Our hunger pangs led us to this gem in Driggs called Lemongrass Vietnamese. My taste buds are still sending thank you notes – absolutely scrumptious. And what better way to digest than by immersing ourselves in what I fondly call the “water of the gods“?
Now, I’m back home, gearing up for a grass-fed beef cook-off and an SOA binge. Ah, living the dream. And the cherry on top? The need for my personal ad is officially a thing of the past.
On This Day In History
2011: Tears on a top tube – The excitement and camaraderie of the Devils Slide Mountain bike Race weekend.
2010: Rural Canada – A photographic homage to the scenic beauty between the Canadian border and Calgary.
2008: Not a Good Sign – An enigmatic entry that leaves readers pondering.
Togwotee Winter Classic: A Tale of Snow, Grit, and Unexpected Triumph
So, there I was, squinting at my GPS in disbelief. It cheerfully informed me I had another 8 hours to trudge back to Togwotee Lodge. The last glimpse I caught of Mo was way back at the starting line. And now, here I was, smack dab in the heart of a snowstorm that felt like it was personally out to get me. They did say, “Choose the 35-mile course, and you’re basically signing up to be a lone wolf.” Well, call me Mowgli, because I was about to dance with the wolves, or in this case, snow.
Enter stage left: a legend among mere mortals, the kind of person who probably eats Tour Divides for breakfast and Iditasport Invitationals for lunch. Jay Petervary was ahead, and I, like a diligent apprentice, shadowed his every move, soaking up the art of snow racing.
The opening act of the 2012 Togwotee Classic was less “classic” and more “comedy of errors” for yours truly. Picture this: everyone else is gracefully biking through the snow, and then there’s me, letting air out of my tires not once but a half dozen times, running alongside my bike like it’s a petulant child refusing to cooperate. Talk about a crash course in humility – and I mean that quite literally.
But as they say, necessity is the mother of invention (or in my case, desperation is the father of somewhat questionable decisions). I tried to keep up with Jay P, but the man was a blur on two wheels. My attempts to mimic his grace were akin to a penguin trying to fly – ambitious but fundamentally flawed. Then, in a moment that felt more like a scene from an action movie, I let gravity take the wheel on a downhill stretch. Suddenly, Jay was back in sight, but my energy tank was flashing red.
Cue Adam Leifelman, another rider who seemingly used my draft to close the gap. We exchanged war stories about trying to keep up with Jay. My contribution? A self-deprecating quip about needing to shed a few pounds to truly compete in this snow bike racing gig. Adam’s response? A laugh and a nod. Solidarity in suffering, my friends.
As the race progressed, something miraculous happened. Jay started to push his bike up the hills, and I – yes, I – managed to catch up. This was my moment. I shadowed his every move, learning the secret language of snow biking: how to read the trail markers, the art of the light pedal stroke to float atop the snow. And then, as if by magic, I found myself in the lead.
Carbo Rocket fuelled my veins, and for an hour, Jay was nowhere to be seen. I dared to dream. Could I, the underdog, the newbie, actually pull this off? With 15 miles left, I shifted into what I like to call “beast mode” (though it’s less roaring lion, more determined turtle). I navigated hills and valleys, always half-expecting Jay to zoom past.
But he didn’t.
Crossing the finish line at Togwotee Lodge, greeted by Mo and Dave, was surreal. I lifted my bike overhead, not just as a gesture of victory, but as a salute to every unexpected turn this race took. And guess what? I smashed my GPS’s 8-hour prediction by clocking in just under 7 hours. Take that, technology!
2012: Togwotee Winter Classic – A blog post sharing the thrilling experience of participating in the Togwotee Winter Classic, a tale of endurance and adventure in a snowstorm.
So, there you have it. My first snow bike race was a cocktail of chaos, learning, and sheer, unadulterated joy. And to think, it didn’t even take me 8 hours.
On This Day In History
2012: Journeys end – The story of the arrival at Lava Mountain Lodge, setting the stage for the first snow bike race, filled with anticipation and excitement.
2011: Friends stuff – A lighthearted blog post recounting a sunny-day ride with friends, capturing the joy of shared moments and the quirks of adapting to new technology.
2010: Water Color – An entry into the “Abstract” album, this blog post showcases the mesmerizing beauty of water colors captured on a peaceful morning.
2006: Web Site Gone – A candid post about the challenges of losing a website and the struggles of rebuilding it with limited resources.
2002: Exhausted – Reflecting on the raw feeling of exhaustion after an adventurous trek in the woods, this blog post captures the essence of pushing one’s limits.
2002: Training on Schedule – A glimpse into the disciplined world of mountain bike training, celebrating the milestones of weight loss and fitness.
We finally rolled into the Lava Mountain Lodge deep in the heart of Teton Park, Wyoming, way past my bedtime. The roads? A nightmare straight out of a Stephen King novel. The journey? An epic saga, clocking in at around 7 hours. Now, here we are, trying to burrow into bed, but who can sleep? I’m practically vibrating with excitement over my first snow bike race tomorrow.
On This Day In History
2011: Friends stuff – A lighthearted blog post recounting a sunny-day ride with friends, capturing the joy of shared moments and the quirks of adapting to new technology.
2010: Water Color – An entry into the “Abstract” album, this blog post showcases the mesmerizing beauty of water colors captured on a peaceful morning.
2006: Web Site Gone – A candid post about the challenges of losing a website and the struggles of rebuilding it with limited resources.
2002: Exhausted – Reflecting on the raw feeling of exhaustion after an adventurous trek in the woods, this blog post captures the essence of pushing one’s limits.
2002: Training on Schedule – A glimpse into the disciplined world of mountain bike training, celebrating the milestones of weight loss and fitness.
Ah, the glorious sun! There I am, cradling my cup o’ joe, surveying my domain like a modern-day monarch. Sixty-three thousand and eighty-four… one hundred thousand… one hundred and nine thousand four hundred ninety-three. Hold up—someone’s MIA. Ah, yes, the elusive lady from Carriage Way. Probably bolted for Bozeman, the land of the free. Well, can’t keep tabs on every soul, can I? I do strive to be the life of the party for the crowd that sticks around. Time to roll up the sleeves and dive into the day. Catch ya later, folks!
On This Day In History
2011: New Turner for 2011 – I don’t know who started calling my coffee cup “Black Betty”.
2010: Spring Training – I interrupt this regularly scheduled blog to bring you breaking news.
2008: Unattached From City Brew – Good morning. The weekend is finally here as well as rain, snow, and high winds.
2007: Cooking In The Dark – I was up this morning enjoying a cup of coffee and planning my day.
2006: Web Site Problems – FutureHosting.Biz is the company that hosts this site.
2006: Web Lodge Gets Free Rent – A curious entry with a hint of adventure and a dash of mystery.
2005: Back From Lolo Peak Ridge – Last Saturday my friend Alden and I took a snow shoe up the East Ridge of Lolo Peak.
2004: New Pictures From Mom – Heads up, readers! Mom’s latest photos are up in the “Buckey’s” section, found under “Life in Yuma.”
2004: New Batteries – My mom just got a new charger and I checked into it. It appears to be a great new technology.
2002: MTB at Brookfield Park Awesome – Hey there, long time no see – or, you know, long time no post! I’m still kickin’, just been swamped with bouncing back from pushing my limits a tad too much and gearing up for a big move.
The memories of this winter give clues to my summer’s plans. I think I made my decision while on a weekend trip to the Madison’s two weeks ago. We were skiing towards the Sphinx when suddenly it came into view as we headed up a open meadow. I thought to myself that this is what I want to do more. Maybe more bike packing trips.
The sun was setting and we needed to get back to the cabin and I snapped off one more shot of Sphinx Mountain. The sun’s golden rays were skirting the beast as Mo stood there studying the open white slopes, undoubtedly planning a couple runs tomorrow. As I put my camera back into the bag I thought that this it totally how I wanted to spend my summer.
Back at the cabin we cooked brats, drank some Cold Smoke and I thought to myself how this is really living. I want to do this more this summer. The thoughts danced in my head as I dozed off near a crackling fire.
The next day we went back up to the meadow and beyond. But that was not before a day of laying around the cabin until it was necessary to “do something” or just go home. It was pretty late as we broke out into the meadows again. The Helmut came into view and I stopped to pull out my camera. This was great, taking photos and exploring. I want to do more of this.
“We must come back this summer”, I yelled ahead to Mo. I think she agreed. This weekend I enter my first snow bike race. Beyond that I am planning to defend my 24 hour solo races that I won. Other then that I got to do more of this.
On This Day In History
2012: Head count – Ahhhhh, the sun. I pour myself a cup of coffee and take stock over my kingdom.
2011: New Turner for 2011 – I don’t know who started calling my coffee cup “Black Betty”.
2010: Spring Training – I interrupt this regularly scheduled blog to bring you breaking news.
2008: Unattached From City Brew – Good morning. The weekend is finally here as well as rain, snow, and high winds.
2007: Cooking In The Dark – I was up this morning enjoying a cup of coffee and planning my day.
2006: Web Site Problems – FutureHosting.Biz is the company that hosts this site.
2006: Web Lodge Gets Free Rent – A curious entry with a hint of adventure and a dash of mystery.
2005: Back From Lolo Peak Ridge – Last Saturday my friend Alden and I took a snow shoe up the East Ridge of Lolo Peak.
2004: New Pictures From Mom – Heads up, readers! Mom’s latest photos are up in the “Buckey’s” section, found under “Life in Yuma.”
2004: New Batteries – My mom just got a new charger and I checked into it. It appears to be a great new technology.
2002: MTB at Brookfield Park Awesome – Hey there, long time no see – or, you know, long time no post! I’m still kickin’, just been swamped with bouncing back from pushing my limits a tad too much and gearing up for a big move.
Tapering, or whatever you call it, I just woke up on the couch. This isn’t my home. This isn’t my life. What am I doing inside?
On This Day In History
Diving back into the archives on February 29th:
2004: World Cup Biathalon in Lake Placid – Just waltzed back from Lake Placid, fresh off a biathlon pilgrimage to Mount Van Ho. Gotta say, it was pretty darn cool, even if my camera skills were about as smooth as a baby learning ice skate. First 50 clicks? Overexposed oblivion. Next 50? A comedy of bad angles, dodgy framing, and the film (okay, digital sensor) capturing the adventure.
2008: Sun Sets on Warm Friday – Tonight I got the chores done in good time and I was able to escape my money problems and the work week with a hike with my dog Marcy. We headed up Pengally Ridge and got some sunset photos. I just uploaded a bunch of photos to my albums Spring Training and Life in Missoula.
2008: Race Equipment Arrives – The anticipation of spring always gets me excited – it’s the perfect time to prep the bikes for racing season. I just received a big order, and the first thing I tested was the new shoes. Initially, they’re REALLY stiff, thanks to the carbon sole, which kind of feels like wearing ski boots without the skiing.
I am looking up into two tall trees and something I read comes back to me as if the internet webpage was right before my eyes. The words mirror my feelings. OK, so maybe I cant remember it exactly so I felt the need to go home and post it in my next blog.
As I sit here refreshing the 2012 Iditarod Invitational web page I can t help but wish I was somewhere else. Yentna Station to be exact. Enduring with all the other people struggling against the races most challenging weather ever. I have been on my snow bike numerous times, 600 miles worth to be exact, but only a handful of experiences have given me the taste of what must be going on out there. And now the poem rings some sort of bell in my soul.
Boneshakerbike 
