Boneshakerbike

Category: Blog Posts

  • Junkie

    Junkie

    I don’t know what it is. When an endurance junkie like me takes a couple days recovery suddenly life just falls apart.  I am at peace when my schedule is overbooked and I am working out during every sliver of time. But the last couple days have been light and I find myself at home starring at the walls. I turn on “Craig Fergusson” and can’t follow the punch lines. I flip open my laptop and research the latest sports nutrition.

    2012_02_04_bridger_ridge-9.jpg

    Later on, I find myself in the Bozeman CoOp looking a canister of goat protein. I lean forward and the price tag comes into view. I retreat discussed … $65.00. “Holy Shit”, I internally yell. I whirl around, grab a canister of Spry gum and head to the checkout line.

    Back at home I hang my laundry and plop back down on the couch.  I stare at the wall. Flipping on the TV again it is repulsive so I flip it back off and start Pandora on my laptop.  The tunes flood into my apartment and I start wiggling my foot. What should I do?  The music is making my dream of working out and I go to the kitchen to grab a local map. I start pouring over the ridgelines and high points planning tomorrow’s work out.

    I can’t stand the music any longer. I turn it off and the urge to go ride starts to subside … a little. I can’t sit down any longer and start pacing around the apartment looking for things to do. I start to lose it and I grab the foam roller starting to do some core routines.

    “I am jonesing man”, I say to an imaginary adventure dealer. “I gotta have some stuff”. “I just can’t stand it”.

    I have a list of things to do, pay some bills maybe, fix some shoes. But I keep on procrastinating. I have plenty to do but lack the motivation to do them. Didn’t I want extra time to get caught up?  This is the time to get caught up. “Argh”, I smack my head in frustration.

    Tomorrow I will get back to the workout grind. Some intense intervals running up the Bridger Range.  And I will have limited time and be as busy as ever; getting ready to travel to Missoula.  And through it all everything will get done tomorrow.  I will work 8 hours, pack the car, do two workouts, and tune up my bikes.  All in one day. Something I cant do now …. because I don’t have my stuff.

    “I gotta have some stuff”. “I just can’t stand it”.

    ON THIS DAY IN HISTORY:

    Dive into these posts for a glimpse of history, from thrilling adventures to thoughtful musings!

  • Looking inward

    Looking inward

    The sun was setting, and I was in a bind. My goal had led me to failure as evening approached, forcing me to retreat for safety. Tracing my steps back, I pondered my predicament: stranded on a ridge with dwindling daylight and inadequate gear against the cold. Life’s dualities struck me—partnerships require harmony, jobs balance work and reward. My adventure was lopsided, marred by unexpected snow and misled expectations of an easy climb. I had overlooked the mountain’s silent warnings, mistaking its bare appearance from afar as a green light.

    Darkness fell, and the ordeal intensified, culminating in a forced overnight stay. Frustrated, I yelled at the mountain, absurdly seeking answers from an inanimate entity. My outburst, a brief release in the solitude, highlighted the true imbalance within me. Alone, I recognized the fault was mine for misinterpreting the view from my window, for embarking impulsively on this venture. It was a personal revelation, not a failure in communication with the mountain, but a misjudgment on my part. Resolved, I knew it was up to me to find my way back.

    ON THIS DAY IN HISTORY

    let’s take a stroll down memory lane with my captivating(lol) posts!

  • Solo

    Solo

    I watched her lights fade into the night, then dashed up to my place. “Brrr… chilly,” I muttered. I grabbed my work gear and left for another Bozeman Monday. My bike felt strange as I pedaled to campus. At work, I thought… Alone.

  • In Bozeman for the day

    In Bozeman for the day

    Loneliness, a shadow that often trails behind us on our journeys, can sometimes feel like an uninvited companion on the roads we travel. Bob Dylan, in his profound simplicity, offers a beacon of light in navigating this solitude. His words serve as a map, guiding us back to the warmth of human connection and the simple acts that can illuminate the shadows.

    “Find old friends if they’re still around, talk t’ the old people an’ the young people,” Dylan suggests, reminding us of the bridges we can build across the divides of time and experience. In the bustling streets of Missoula or the quiet trails that surround it, the opportunity to reconnect with the past and engage with the present is a gift—a chance to weave the richness of varied lives into our own.

    “Runnin’ yes…but stoppin’ for a while, embracin’ what I left an’ lovin’ it – for I learned by now never t’ expect what it cannot give me.” Here, Dylan touches on the essence of embracing our journey, including the pauses and detours. It’s in these moments of reflection and reconnection that we can truly appreciate the beauty of what we’ve left behind, and also, crucially, learn the limits of what we can expect from the world around us.

    This message speaks volumes, especially when the trails we choose lead us into moments of isolation. The act of reaching out, of finding those old friends or sparking conversations with both the elderly and the young, becomes a powerful antidote to loneliness. It’s not in grand gestures or monumental achievements that we find relief from our solitude, but in the simple, meaningful connections that remind us we are part of a larger tapestry.

    In Bozeman, as in life, the trails we ride are not just paths through the wilderness but metaphors for the journeys we undertake. Dylan’s advice encourages us to pause, to appreciate the landscape of our lives, and to remember that our solo rides are punctuated by the opportunity to share moments with others. It’s in these shared experiences that we find the true essence of life and happiness, learning not to expect what cannot be given but to cherish what is.

    So, as we navigate our paths, let us take Dylan’s wisdom to heart. Let us stop for a while, reach out to those around us, and find joy in the connections that bridge the gaps of our loneliness. In doing so, we not only light our way but also illuminate the paths of those we encounter, together weaving a narrative of shared humanity against the backdrop of our individual journeys.

  • Staying home

    Staying home

    I have lived in Bozeman for 6 months now but my experiences have been limited. Most of my time has been spent in Missoula actually. When a hiking buddy showed up this weekend here in the Bozone we decided to get up on a high spot and take a look around.

    The sun was out almost like a nice May day when we started out at the ‘M’ trail. Not to be confused with Missoula’s ‘M’ trail this one jets up pretty fast passing the large letter around 700 fee vertically from the parking lot. approaching just a hair past 1 mile you will have climbed 2,000 vertical. So it was no surprise we needed to take a break when we broke out on the Bridger Range ridgeline.

    The views were pretty grand. To the East were the Crazy Mountain Range and South of them the Absaroka Range. South of us were the Gallatins and to the East of them the Madison Range. Turning to the West we could see the Tobacco Root Range and beyond. Truly a great spot to inspire future adventure plans.

    Once we got our wind we set out along the ridge to the north. The West side of the Bridgers seem to stay dry due to the excessive sun in this part of Montana. But the East side collects snow and this is where you fine the Bozemanites playing in their winter fluff. So it was no surprise when suddenly we were post holing through deep white powder. Not enough to ski mind you but beautiful nonetheless.

    The setting sun provided us with some great shadow patterns on the snow. I held up the evening retreat from the mountain by stopping often for black and white inspirations with the camera.

    The trip down was fabulous as well when we were greeted by a Bozeman sunset and  some new trail explorations. As the day grew to dusk and we approached the parked car I wondered why I don’t spend more time in Bozeman.

  • Dream ride

    Even though I had my warmest mitts on, the cold started biting into my fingers. It might be that my hands were falling asleep from riding all night, maybe it was the cold. I kept focus on the challenge … the race.

    I almost missed the river crossing and looked for a landmark to guide me to the next section of snowmobile trail. Scary tree or something like that. Hours passed and I figured I was halfway through the night. I passed a big frozen lake and continued to the superhighway trail on the river. I didn’t see many snow machines tonight though. It was at least 60 below zero. I spotted a glow of light in a cabin on the far banks, 10 miles to go. Later my lighting system started to flicker and I wandered if I could make the next checkpoint. Now turning onto another trail towards the oasis of heat and nourishment I can not feel my hands. Now on land again I followed a fence line … half mile to go. I comforted myself and strained my glare into the darkness. Where is that check point? My eyelids grew heavy and I started to shiver, the bike moving slower now.

    Then it came into view … the Rene Library on the campus of Montana State University. My dream faded slowly. The river crossings, streets. Scary tree, a trail sign. Snowmobile trails, footpaths. Rivers, roads. cabins, houses. My morning commute to work. My dream

    Citations:
    [1] https://thecontentauthority.com/blog/how-to-use-snowmobile-in-a-sentence
    [2] https://ludwig.guru/s/ran+along+the+road
    [3] https://ludwig.guru/s/break+trail

  • Significant

    I just did ball pikes, and my injured rib aches each time I thrust upwards. Today’s an easy day, ending with some ‘pain lab’ workouts. My thoughts drift to today’s ride from work. Fresh snow meant commuting with Larry, my snow bike. Fitting in with my training plan’s “30-minute recovery ride,” I toured Bozeman’s fitness trails on the fatty.

    Now, as I switch to bicep curls, I ponder their relevance to ‘core’ training. It might seem trivial, but it’s part of ‘the plan’, so I follow through. Today’s trail adventure, weaving through trees, creeks, sidewalks, and fielding snow bike queries from hikers, was genuinely fun.

    Finishing the pain lab with tricep dips, tonight hitting 40, feels like a milestone. My training’s on track, core exercises are getting easier, and I’m starting to enjoy them after the initial training shock. As I wrapped up my ride, turning North offered spectacular views of the Bridger Range. Indeed, nothing is insignificant.

  • The tricking of winter

    Snow is starting to fall outside, and soon the world will be covered in a new blanket of snow. A lot happened behind the scenes leading up to tonight, part of what I called “operation groundhog.” I can finally share the details.

    On January 31st at 6 PM, a top decision was made to leave my snow bike in my car, pretending snow wasn’t a priority anymore. I even put the bike up for sale at MSU campus over the next three days. By February 1st at 3 AM, with the snow bike seemingly off my radar, I switched to my cross bike, even doing a couple of training rides on it.

    Today at 11 AM, while I was covertly making old man winter think I was prepping for spring, another person, let’s call him Rich, joined the operation. He planned a risky skiing trip to Lost Trail, four hours away, and took Thursday off, expecting good weather for safe travels.

    So, the stage was set, and the opposition – old man winter – went on high alert just moments ago. At 11:56 PM tonight, snow witches were dispatched to whip up a winter storm. Our insider, codenamed Wiarton Willie, overheard the wintry warlock grumbling about us enjoying spring-like conditions.

    There you have it, the full story of how we tricked old man winter in 2012. Ha!

  • Rest week

    It was February 1, 2012, time for a rest week. “I promised to lose weight and get active again,” Winnie declared.

    Christopher Robin sat quietly, worried about his friend. Winnie looked weak and tired. Humans often misunderstand bears, and even Christopher, despite being close, couldn’t figure out why Winnie wasn’t hibernating.

    “Just passing by,” he said, glancing at the tree’s hole. “You should get a real door.”

    “Umm, yeah.”

    “Couldn’t sleep, huh?” Christopher noticed Winnie eyeing a honey jar. “Why starve yourself?”

    No reply from the bear. Christopher began to leave.

    “I’ll be fine, I do this yearly…”

    But Christopher was already gone, muttering his concern and stumbling over a tree root.

  • So done with driving

    January 30, 2012, and I’m fed up with driving. Commuting’s a huge time sink. If you drive an hour daily to work, that’s 250 hours a year, about 10.5 days lost, not to mention the cash drain. Luckily, my commute’s just a 15-minute bike ride.

    But I do have a weekend commute. Living in Missoula and working in Bozeman, I spend 6 hours traveling each weekend. That’s a whole day every month just on the road. It’s worth it for who I’m visiting, but it’s getting tiresome and isn’t the best way to live.

  • A day in the life

    A day in the life

    My day usually kicks off with a snow bike ride up Rattlesnake Corridor, weather permitting. Ski grooming often makes it tough, but I try my luck. On a rainy morning, when the trails turn to slush and ice, I head back, pushing my snow bike through the corridor. The tough conditions in Missoula make outdoor fun a challenge this time of year.

    Back home, I opt for hiking, despite icy trails. It’s less daunting than snow biking. Maybe getting a horse is a good idea in this icy, rainy weather. Eventually, I wind up at home, indulging in a homemade treat, “Lomond Bon Bleux”. This leads to a sugar-induced sleep, and I wake up needing to call in sick.

    I miss mountain biking.

  • Pacing debunked

    2012OSCR

    The thing I will remember most about the 2012 OSCR 50K is that for the first time I actually “paced’ myself the results were unexpected. I thought I would post the fastest personal time ever. Instead I was a half an hour slower then when I went out and “blew up” half way through he race. So kiddies, it pays off to go out hard and get wasted.  Then coast in. It is way faster then “pacing” oneself.

    IMG_3376

    The one good thing to come out of “pacing” is that I started and finished feeling fresh. So yea, I guess it is good to feel good and enjoy yourself in races … if you want to go slow. I say go all out and destroy it.

    History

    • 2007 – ~5:30(ish)
    • 2008 – 3:34:29 .:. unpaced, totally destroying it
    • 2009 – 4:27:52
    • 2012 – 3:56:00 .:. paced

  • OSCR 50K: 4th Try Tomorrow

    Tomorrow’s my 4th shot at the OSCR 50K. This year’s its 30th anniversary, so there’s a special hat!

    Originally, OSCR meant “Ovando to Seeley Citizens Race,” linking two towns. Now, it’s just a loop, starting at Seeley Creek Trails and crossing Rice Ridge. Someone (maybe Alden?) told me it now stands for “Over Seeley’s Creeks and Ridges”. The best part? A chili feed and awards after the race.

    My last go was in 2009, finishing in 4:27:52. An hour off my best, but I hadn’t skied that year. My blog, “2009 OSCR 50K Race Report”, covers it. When asked about not skiing, I’d said, “but I’ve been doing lots of CORE”.

    2008 was my best, with a time of 3:34:29. I detailed it in “Hello From The OSCR”. I was somewhat prepared but still struggled.

    2007 was my first time, and it was tough – like 60k in 5 1/2 hours or DNF. “The Day After The 60K” blog talks about getting lost in the Bob Marshall Wilderness. That year taught me real endurance.

    With bruised ribs, this race might be like my first or last attempt. I’ve done some skiing, so aiming for a personal best. No matter what, it’ll be tough. I’d jokingly name it “Outer-limits Suffer Cauldron of Rejection” … fitting for the OSCR Loop.

  • Winter takes a break

    Winter takes a break

    I keep expecting snow, and those warm winds to turn into icy blasts. Riding my Mukluk, I feel like I should be in a blizzard, Larry’s natural habitat. But this week, winter took a break.

    Instead, I got stunning views and, frustratingly, some of the best road riding I’ve had in Montana. Missoula had me craving roads, but Bozeman’s full of them. The roads are dry right now, except for high up on the passes.

    This week’s training was brutal. Tough tempo intervals against strong winds. The fat tires on my snow bike added so much resistance, turning my legs into aching lumps. I sweated more than usual, and the sun almost made me feel guilty, like I was breaking a winter rule. But this is Bozeman, a place of clear blue skies and non-stop sunshine. And I can’t complain about the scenery.

  • Pushing fat

    To ride a snow bike for 27 miles in 2 hours, a few things are crucial.

    Avoid Missoula – too much snow or slush. Instead, head to Bozeman where sunny skies and strong winds dry out the roads. Hope for a break in Bozeman’s usual high winds. Keep your bike tires at 10 pounds of pressure; any more, and you’ll go too far. Finally, be in a “tempo” training mode to push yourself for those two hours.

  • Gravity Wins – A 5mph Tumble at Leverich Canyon

    Leverich Canyon, usually a canvas for adrenaline-pumping descents, served up a different kind of thrill today: a slow-motion tumble that tested my balance and vocabulary. It all started innocently enough – a training ride, a casual stop… and then gravity decided to play some tricks.

    Leaning the wrong way, I discovered with startling immediacy that the earth wasn’t quite where I expected it to be. Downhill, as it turned out. A frantic search for a safe landing zone revealed only a landscape of ice and rock – not exactly the softest options. So, I improvised, taking a tentative step towards what I hoped would be terra firma. Wrong again. More ouch-inducing obstacles awaited.

    With no graceful dismount in sight, I surrendered to the inevitable. I tumbled down the unforgiving slope, a ragdoll at the mercy of gravity. The 140-foot descent seemed to take an eternity, each roll adding its own unwelcome momentum. Finally, my “self-arrest” technique kicked in (think spread eagle into a friendly stump) and I came to a somewhat unceremonious stop.

    A symphony of choice words erupted from my lips, a fitting soundtrack to the throbbing in my chest and the stinging scratches decorating my clothes courtesy of the scree. Yes, it was a 5mph crash, the kind that defies logic and leaves you questioning the laws of physics. But hey, slow and steady wins the race, right? Or maybe not. In this case, gravity won, hands down.

    The aftermath was predictable – a gingerly uphill hike to my bike, a possible broken rib (the jury’s still out), and a newfound respect for the deceptiveness of even the gentlest slopes. Leverich Canyon might have gotten the better of me this time, but I’ll be back. Next time, though, I’ll pack some extra padding, just in case.

  • Insomnia

    Insomnia

    Cozied up in bed, I was ready for sleep after a busy day. But my brain wouldn’t stop spinning with thoughts of the day’s hustle.

    From Missoula to Bozeman, work, unloading a car, to an hour of core workouts and foam rolling. My day was packed with calls, texts, blogs, and training plans. I just wanted to be out on my bike, enjoying the simplicity.

    Lying there, I couldn’t help but think about tomorrow’s ride. Which route to take? Even at night, the excitement of biking kept me awake.

    It hit me then. Life can get too crowded. These quiet night moments remind us what matters. For me, it’s the joy of biking. Just me, my bike, and the open trail. That simplicity brings peace in life’s chaos.

  • Where do I live?

    A Day in the Life: Missoula, Montana

    “Where do I live?” This question popped into my head as I was navigating the icy and narrow boot trail along the Kim Williams Trail. It was one of those typical Missoula days – cold, but full of adventure. I stopped to capture the moment with my cell phone, a quick snap of the frosty trail ahead, and shared it with the world on Twitter.

    My journey for the day was set to take 5 hours, not because of the distance or the terrain, but simply because my training plan said so. It’s funny how we let these little digital schedules dictate our lives, isn’t it?

    Earlier, I rode into town with my friend Mo. We stopped to help our friend Karen with her ‘Keep Missoula Warm’ project on Higgins Bridge. “We are calling it ‘Keep Missoula Warm’ … ” Karen explained. She’s a local artist and came up with this heartwarming idea with her boyfriend, Arlan.

    After lending a hand, I left the group and rode East. A predetermined turnaround time prompted me to stop for another Twitter post. After the social act (or as the kids call it, ‘twittering’), I turned my trusty Mukluk around to head back and pick up Mo, who wanted to ride the rest of the day with me.

    As I climbed back aboard my Mukluk, a realization hit me. Most of my outdoor daylight hours are spent in Missoula. You can’t count hours spent working indoors because you are not living. The only time you are living is when you are outdoors, breathing the air, and taking in your surroundings as we were meant to be as animals … er … humans.

    You can’t count night hours either because you are not living. You’re just blindly following a light beam around. To live is to take in life. Seeing life. Breathing life. Most of my outdoor daylight hours are spent in Missoula. So I guess you can say I live in Missoula and work in Bozeman. Maybe someday we will move to Bozeman. That would be cool, wouldn’t it?