Category: Blog Posts

So picture this: me, standing tall at the post-race grub table, salsa-stained fingers clutching a chip, regaling my crew with tales of victory (okay, maybe just finishing). Underneath the “racer” facade, though? A 44-year-old body rebelling like a teenager at a Justin Bieber concert. Later, stripping down for the celebratory fiesta at the local Mexican joint, I discover a war map of scrapes and bruises. Naturally, I whip out the most impressive one for dramatic effect, earning the obligatory “ooh”s and “ouch”es from my fellow warriors.

Meanwhile, Ross, the ever-practical one, is already plotting a more comfortable crash pad. After a valiant attempt at scrubbing my road rash with industrial-strength wipes (think Mr. Clean on steroids), we roll into Riggs, Idaho, and snag a fisherman’s motel for the night. Sweet relief – a hot shower and a bed that doesn’t smell like questionable foot odor. Bliss.

Morning arrives, and I’m up with the rooster (or maybe just the fishermen grumbling about their elusive catches). Feeling spry, I head down to the river for a photo op, only to reenact a clumsy penguin act and nearly take an unscheduled dip. Seriously, universe, what are you trying to tell me?

Now, caught between the siren song of home and the allure of adventure, I’m torn. One minute I’m plotting a glorious return ride, the next I’m open to whatever mayhem the day throws my way. But hold on, gotta run! The Grizzlyman Adventure Race beckons, and I wouldn’t want to miss the chance to trade war stories with fellow dirt warriors.

Here’s the dilemma: do I finish this tale in words, or leave you with a video cliffhanger, forcing you to guess what ridiculous shenanigans we got ourselves into next? Stay tuned, folks, the adventure (and maybe some questionable dance moves) continues…

The Race – Day 2

If there’s an upside to hypothermia, it’s the eternal nap you slide into—no alarm clock needed. Last Saturday, I nearly checked out permanently when suddenly, a voice broke through my frosty slumber: “Wanna hit up town for breakfast?” That invitation yanked me back to the land of the living—or at least, those of us pretending to be awake.

With the others still lost in dreamland, I seized my chance for a scenic latrine tour. The first stop was a frozen wonder, where any contributions simply perched atop the ice. I slapped a Butte 100 poster there and moved on. By the end of my circuit, four posters adorned the facilities of Hemingway Butte Recreation Area, marking my mission complete. Time to hit town.

In Melba, we stumbled upon the Melba Valley Market—a charming hybrid of hardware store, grocery, and café. As we entered, the local eyes sized us up, probably wondering about these odd early birds invading their nest. The place screamed “hardware,” but a warm welcome with coffee and smiles soon had us feeling right at home.

Post-breakfast, we returned to the venue, my stomach bravely bearing hash browns and salsa, hoping it wouldn’t make a comeback mid-race. The wind kicked up fiercely, almost sending our tent flying—an ominous sign for the day.

Geared up for a pre-ride, I was flying on the course, flaunting speed to some youngsters, when my back tire surrendered to a flat—thanks to a skirmish with a rogue goat head. After a grueling repair session, it was clear: surviving the race on mere tubes and patches was a fool’s errand. Resigned, I chose to cheer from the sidelines instead of battling the inevitable.

As the pros took off, I couldn’t help but fantasize about being in that elite group of twenty. Instead, I found myself amidst a sea of eager riders, the start a chaotic free-for-all reminiscent of the Boston Marathon. Once the race began in earnest, I managed to navigate through the pack, dodging missteps and mechanical mishaps alike.

The course threw challenges our way, with climbs and tricky rollers. Following some swift riders, disaster struck when the guy ahead botched a gear change. To avoid a pile-up, I took a detour through the weeds. Despite this setback, I clawed back towards the lead, exploiting a wide stretch of track to overtake a good chunk of the field.

However, my comeback was cut short by a collision that sent me sprawling, with visions of hospitals dancing in my head. Yet, with a spirit unwilling to quit, I realigned my twisted handlebars and continued, the pain in my neck a fiery reminder of the fall.

Throughout the race, I kept overtaking wherever possible, channeling my frustrations into conquering climbs that others shied away from. The final laps were about endurance, sticking close to competitors who matched my pace.

In a twist of fate, a missed turn on the last lap cost me dearly. Unaware that we were racing 2.5 laps, not 3, I lost my lead. The irony? I had overtaken everyone without even realizing it. If only I’d attended that racer’s meeting! Comparing times later, I could have clinched fourth overall—a bittersweet revelation.

Still, I snagged second in my age group. Throughout the ordeal, one thought kept me pedaling: “I haven’t flatted yet.” Call it luck or sheer grit, but finishing was the real victory. Just another good day in the dirt.

Today at noon, I headed out for Barking Spider, much to the laughter of my Aunt Paula. That’s what we call Uncle Dave’s farts. All joking aside, it’s a fun little course.

Last night, I was able to join the Thursday Night Ride, but to everyone’s dismay, I proceeded to smash my bike with my foot, resulting in a complete mental breakdown. I creased the top tube of my Leader, and it was intentional.

This happened after I had meditated to clear my mind of the frustrations stemming from mechanical issues. Just as things started to mellow out, my front tire sprung a leak.

In frustration, I kicked my bike and listed all the things that are messed up with Missoula: can’t make a decent living, waste of a good education, can’t even feed myself, and so forth. I really lost my temper. Usually, I prefer to vent my frustrations in the woods where I can scream and yell.

I am now officially 3 hours away from leaving town, and I’m trying to push out of my mind that my bike is being held together with zip ties and JB Weld. But who cares? I’m going camping and traveling. It’s a break from the brain drain of Missoula.

So there I was on the Kim Williams Trail thinking how awesome it was that it was dry and looking forward to a great mountain bike ride. My threshold interval started at the bottom of Deer Creek Road and by the time I clicked my lap timer it was evident that I would encounter mud. After all we had just endured about a thousand snow flurries for a week. I tried to stay on the shoulder where there was still gravel.

The only thing that was working was the Carbo Rocket as I felt really good putting down some serious power. By the top of Deer Creek Road where it turns to Pattee Canyon Road I was completely unrecognizable. I looked like a rock. To make matters worse I was on ice and snow now which made for some interesting side trips to the ditch. Crazy canyon trails did not provide me with refuge either.

Snow pack that hasn’t been on the trails for like two months was now back and when there wasn’t snow it was greasy and deep mud. No dry spots to spare. I popped out to the trail over to MoZ and it was dry again. I ascended into town and everyone glanced my way. I looked like I had been mud bogging. But where is the mud was probably their thought.

My recommendations for mountain biking as of last night after staying up all night washing clothes in the tub … move somewhere else.

Time for a rant blog. It’s only right since the weather in Missoula has turned from spring to winter. I awoke to Montana Public Radio stating that there is a winter weather advisory today. Oh, jeez. Time to turn off that pesky media; I don’t even know why I turned it on.

Also on MPR, I heard about a child who committed suicide due to bullying. Everyone is blaming the principal of the school. In fact, the principal has reportedly received a bunch of hate mail or threatening letters, with one saying, “Burn in Hell.” It’s not the educators, folks. It’s the parents. The parents themselves are engaging in the same bullying tactics that pressured this teen to take their own life. There are a small number of parents out there who may be the problem. Parents shape the world, and they are f’ing it up. That is my observation and not to be confused with blame. I do know when I am being bullied, though, and even in adult life, you will run into bullies (for instance, a boss or colleague).

There is no room in life for blame if we all just take responsibility because who knows which parent this misbehavior started with. Just as I hope bullying tactics are not used on me today, I hope that all creatures will experience a bully-free day today as well.

On a lighter note, a video.

Ah, Monday, or as I like to call it, “The Great Survival Day.” It’s that peculiar day of the week when the universe conspires to test our will to live, patience, and coffee tolerance.

“Good morning, world! It’s my birthday today! Who am I? Richard Bach might know, or at least he has written the perfect depiction of who I am, what I stand for, and what I’m all about. ‘Jonathan Livingston Seagull‘ is a fable about a seagull learning about life, flight, and the pursuit of self-perfection.

Paul Bardis and Lucy Limberis are the ones who recommended this story to me. After reading the book, I was astounded and nearly moved to tears because I finally found a description that resonates with the passion burning inside me.”

This is my final piece of 4 posts in a tiny series, or stages. My recollection of last weekend’s trip to Lewiston for the Devils Slide Mountain Bike Race. This race has a long tradition. The Brown’s and I have been there from the beginning. The 2010 movie.

2006 : My first race since I had given racing up back in New England.

I finally got USA Cycling to downgrade me to expert so I could race. I was really overweight as far as strength to weigh ratio goes.

I went to Lewiston early on to pre-ride the course. I would meet up with some new friends I met through the Thursday Night Ride group.

When I got there I couldn’t find the course and it was raining hard. It had rained all the way down there and I didn’t even realize what a beautiful trip it was. I decided to camp out at the campground and put up my tent. I had Marcy with me at the time and she just figured we were on another car camping trip. When I went to put my sleeping bag and pillows in the tent I couldn’t find them. I had forgotten my sleeping bag … that was the last straw.

I packed everything up and headed home to Missoula. I started to feel bad that I told my friends that I would meet them so I stopped in at the place they made reservations to leave them a note. Something came over me and I decided to use a credit card and stay in the same motel. I just needed to dry out and get some sleep. I was a wreck.

My friends “The Browns” were excited when they arrived and I got caught up in their energy. The next day it was nice and the trails were drying. So I signed up and raced.

I suffered greatly upon my old K2 full suspension bike but I was hooked from that moment on … or re-hooked anyway.

2007 : The previous year we noted little cabins along the Snake River. Nancy looked into it and booked one for our 2007 journey.

Marcy and I arrived early once again but this time the weather was great. I put together my bike and wet riding. I noticed immediately my fitness had greatly improved. This was the first race for my new Leader mountain bike. A great season was at hand.

My friends arrived and we all stayed in the cabin. We loved it and have done it ever sense (well kind of). I think I got first for the expert group that year and the girls raced as well. I started my tradition of pushing hard to try and lap my friend Ross.

In 2007 we stopped in at a pizza shop in Kamiah ID, another tradition had started.

2008 : I was in serious shape and the entire spring lead up to the slide. We were all excited to be traveling via white van and we all went together instead of meeting up at the venue. I took my tent and stayed just beside the cabin.

The race went very well and I won expert again. the difference this year is that I kept up with the pros and was edged out by two of them and got 3rd overall.

Again we hit the Pizza Factory in Kamiah ID for our traditional post race feast

2009 : This is my world championship year so Ross and I traveled Saturday morning so that I could ride the slide for 6 hours. It was just the two of us and I rode the slide so much that day I had it nailed for the next day at the race. I went exploring under the bluffs along the snake river and found a great little trail. I took quite a bunch of photos documenting the weird rock formation.

The next day I raced in the smallest field ever and it seemed that the Slide was about to fade out. It was a good race and I won overall for the first time.

Again Ross and I hit the Pizza Factory for post race recovery.

2010 : Thankfully a lot of people showed up this year and I think the Devils Slide is here to stay.

This year was also great with the Brown family in strong attendance. Emily and Nancy were in cheering mode as Ross and I posted our best efforts at the slide to date. Ross getting second in his age category and I winning outright for the second year in a row.

The difference this time along was our early departure time so we could enjoy Saturday in great temperatures. We strolled around the campgrounds and really did the camping thing very well. Even had a fireside reading of a Tail of 2 Cities (homework for Emily).

The best year so far has kicked off what is promising to be a great summer.

This is my high drama piece of 4 posts in a tiny series, or stages. My recollection of last weekend’s trip to Lewiston for the Devil’s Slide Mountain Bike Race. It was race day and here is how it went down.

We awoke to a cloudy and chilly morning. Someone mentioned rain but I still think the weather was delightful. Way better than the winter stuff at home. I do my best racing in the cool weather.

1.5 minutes before the race, I decided I was hot and went down to the parking lot to ditch my undershirt and leg warmers. It is a good thing because during the race I felt really hot. A little sunshine and it’s like us northern folk start to melt.

I made the starting line and was a tiny bit late. I lined up behind Joe Chalmers just as the gun went off (a guy shouted “go”). Joe took off like a madman and led the entire group of about ten or so along the equestrian trail leading to the first bit of single-track.

Soon Joe slowed a bit once on top of a plateau and Perry Roper almost ran into his back wheel. It was apparent that Perry had a great pace going and wanted to continue because he passed Joe and jetted across the plain with myself gasping to take his wheel. I looked back and Joe was not going to come along.

The big threat of the day was Kris Holden who kept stealth and rode with Joe a little bit. I did not even know there were any others that were keeping Perry’s pace until we started jetting up the big climb. I was afraid to look around but could hear someone breathing down my neck. As soon as I lost Perry’s wheel, I would be overtaken and I knew it. I held on.

On top, Perry settled down a bit and I was relieved and tried to regain some semblance of composure. Spin, spin, spin, I told myself. I think Kris went back a little on the final push to the top. We blistered down the Devil’s Slide and I lost ground to Perry. I thought he would ride away so I did my best to hit the technical sections fast but not so fast as to wreck and ruin the entire race. This was my 3rd time on the Turner this season and I was still getting used to it.

At the bottom and just about the end of lap 1, I caught back up to Perry immediately and felt strong. I knew this would be the place to make my move if I had a chance later on. I stuck to his wheel to try and never lose it again. If I were to make a move, I needed to be in place. Lap 2 would be my practice “wheel holding” lap.

We started lap 2 and my cheering section featuring Nancy and Emily Brown were cheering me on. It felt good to have some fans even though they were friends. I made it look like I was playing behind Perry but in reality, I was wondering if I could hold his wheel if he went just as fast on the second lap. He did!

Going down the Devil’s Slide a second time, it was apparent that he was losing composure. He went off track and almost crashed once. I was confident that on the final push I could hold on to him and possibly beat him downhill. I settled in to try and compose myself and get ready to take command in 1 lap. That is if I could hold on that long. I felt like these guys were killing me and I was the weak one until now.

Suddenly, Kris Holden rode up to our wheels. He did it so fast I knew he was going to crush us. I had to do something so I quietly passed Perry. I looked at him and he gave me this puzzled look. I think he was tired but that didn’t matter anymore. I had a fresh racer right behind me. This guy rode away from me two years ago and finished right behind Bradford Parish.

Still on lap 2, I looked back on the climb to end the lap. The two riders seemed to be together, maybe talking. I took the rest of the climb as hard as I could without looking like I was attacking. On the final climb, I stood up and hammered.

Starting the final lap, it was well known to the guys behind that I was on the attack. I think Kris was thinking he had to wait and then pass me on lap 3. I couldn’t wait and I knew that if he was with me at the Devil’s Slide, I would lose the race. I got to the big climb and looked back to see his progress. Shit! Kris was closing…big time. I put some blood down on that big climb and absolutely smashed it.

I never looked back because it was all out from here to the downhill. I suffered on top of the Plateau and entered the slide. I ran right into some slower riders. I could hear Kris starting to bomb the slide behind me and I couldn’t wait for the slower riders anymore. I dismounted and ran around them, then remounted. I rode the downhill as fast as I could.

On the last climb with about 2 miles to go, I stood and started to hammer. I sat right back down…I was toast….FINISHED. I looked back.

Nothing! All I had to do was keep from passing out. I rode the last half mile with a big ol’ grin on my face. I had just won the Devil’s Slide outright. It was a great battle.

This post is a second in a tiny series (or stages) of my recollection of last weekend’s trip to Lewiston for the Devils Slide Mountain Bike Race. This is the first race of the season and it was a great time. We left off picking up keys to the cabin.

The cabin wasn’t ready and I jumped to a quick conclusion because I really wanted to go riding. I assumed that if we waited for the cabin I wouldn’t get out on the trails until late. I had some “tweaks” to do to the bike before launching onto the trails. After a little pow wow O realized that we could still get it done by just going into town for a hour and then ascend upon ol “Tamany Lodge“.

In two hours time I was adjusting my grips, tuning up the bike, checking air pressures, and trying to decide how I would carry my tools for 2010. Some big decisions were made and we were off. Sleeveless in Idaho. The temps were in the 70s.

The pre ride was great and we even went exploring on some single track below the bluffs. A great summer like ride on some interesting trails. I even witnessed a ballet like move by Ross on the Devils Slide as he pulled a move to avoid a certain faceplate. It was quite poetic and I got it on film. This morning I lost that footage. It mysteriously got corrupted in transit to my computer (reason for the late blog).

After the riding was finished and the action wipes dispensed we embarked on a long walk to discover in more detail our surroundings. I learned that Lewis and Clark really didn’t have a good doctor and the pills they were using for stomach distress almost killed them. Yea! We found a interpretive trail.

The day ended with a reading from A Tale of Two Cities. What better way to relax … right? We cooked brats over a campfire and chatted about the up and coming season. A perfect day and the race on Sunday was already a success.

This post is a first in a tiny series (or stages) of my recollection of last weekend’s trip to Lewiston for the Devils Slide Mountain Bike Race. This is the first race of the season and it was a great time. This is how it went down.

I awoke Saturday morning and put on a pot of “Fast Lane” tea. I was so super charged that I got myself into a scone baking project. My plan was to surprise my friends with scones in the morning. Today we were traveling to Lewiston Idaho. The scones were glorious but then my packing fell behind. No worries it was to be a laid back day. This is the happiest I have been in quite a while.

Thanks to Triple Ring Productions I was able to get this race on my calendar and also my friends who gracefully offered to drive me down to Lewiston.

Lets see, what should I take. Carbo Rocket, Action Wipes, shoes, helmet, bike …. cash, license, … on and on. When I had finally put it all together in heaps and started stuffing into a couple containers it was apparent I would be running behind the planned 8 AM departure time.

In the car and headed to the gas station I rounded a corner and that cause my gas gage to ms-read a little. I looked down and saw that I wasn’t completely out of gas, just barely. I would make up time by skipping the gas station.

As I approached Lolo I was a bundle of nerves. Just leaving Missoula the needle dropped below the empty level. It was pegged. But here I was at the city limit sign. I turned off the beetle and coasted into Lolo. Whew! 

I found my friends in the same state of happiness and early morning grogginess. I presented my story of about running out of gas and we had a laugh. It wasn’t long before we were all packed into one vehicle and ready for departure. “Wait”, said Ross. “Should we bring wood”? I replied, “Well then we should also bring brats”. And that decision would be the key to a evening by the fire roasting brats. Finally we were off.

On Lolo Pass we hit snow but I had faith. We had done this trip may times to find sunshine and spring like conditions in Idaho. As we got deeper into Idaho the first signs of spring started to appear. First it was little flowers on a little snapshot stop along the river. Then it was the appearance of flowers alongside the road.

As we rolled into Lewiston it was just as we left it last year. The sun was out, it was hot, and the trees had blossoms on them. The excitement to finally stretch our legs in spring like weather ran through out the car.

Stopping in to pick up our little cabin key we ran into a “tiny” snag.

To be continued … (haha, that was fun)

I don’t know exactly the name of the trail but there are new signs. I think it is MoZ. It zig-zags down the side of South Sentinel in the vicinity of the fire road a beast of a climb straight out of town to Crazy Canyon.

People been thinking I have been scouring the trails looking for the dry single track but in fact I have only been on this little route not even 1 mile in length. I do venture up towards Crazy Canyon once and a while but always find that icy stuff when I hot the trees.

I took this photo with my friend Ed in tow up the climb one evening. We were doing a “quick and dirty” ride. A short “must get out and do something” ride. We were presented with this spectacular view.

Tonight I suspect Ill be up there testing out the equipment before this weekend’s Devils Slide race.

I’ve been experimenting with something new lately: minimal stimulus. For the past month, I’ve ditched TV, radio, internet at home (didn’t have it anyway), and even cut out coffee, sugar, and other stimulating substances. The catalyst for this change was a day I came home from work, mentally frazzled to the core, and realized I was constantly being bombarded with stimuli. Overloaded, overcooked, and undeniably manipulated, I decided to switch off everything and picked up a book instead. For leisure, I’ve been allowing myself to just sit and feel my feelings. I don’t try to dissect them; I simply observe them as they drift by.

Today’s photo ties in with what I’ve been up to. I captured it during a ride, a breath of fresh air after spending a whole day rebuilding forks. At the end of my block, I bumped into my friend Ed. It felt like we had telepathically agreed to meet for this ride. We cycled the MoZ, sharing thoughts on life and happiness. Then, we soaked up the Montana scenery, which felt like watching a movie unfold.

So we have no more favorite photos of 2009 so now I must start taking some photos of my adventure and hope that will keep all of you Lodge fans satisfied. My latest round can not possibly show the fun that we all had yesterday frolicking in the dirt but they don’t do a bad job in showing what summer looks like.

It was last Friday that the call came in. I was to be plucked from my Missoula home, blindfolded, and whisked away to a secret undisclosed location to test some secret and highly classified single track that may make it into a Montana race. I cant disclose the race name so I will call it “some kick ass 100 mile loop race that is our countries finest”. That should not give it away.

I was barley able to collect my things and the next thing I know I was standing on a rock in the middle of sand, sagebrush, and endless miles of mountain biking. I was standing there naked with a kit in my hand. A voice said, “Put it on” and so I did. “Now get out there and ride”.  And I did.

What a day I had. I was astounded to ride some entirely new trail that I didn’t know existed. My fellow trail partners agreed it was a hoot.

I was having such a good time I once took some blissful air to only look down to find no trail to land on. It was then that I knew it was a dream. I would hit the ground wake up.  Right? BAM! I stuck the landing and the judges posted a “9.7” “10” “10” “9.9” “10” “6.1” (Damn Russian judges).

I didn’t wake up and it wasn’t a dream because about a second later my friend Garland came rolling up to the edge of a riser and said, “how the hell did you get down there”. Um yea, kind of missed a corner somewhere.

We rode all day and then I was whisked back home and dropped off back in my previous life. Shoot! I didn’t have any time to get my laundry done, my only weekend chore. So I went to bed.

This is the final installation in a series of 22 blog posts that I am dedicating to my favorite photos of 2009. I took this photo on December 27th, 2009 at 5:32 PM very quickly with my Canon SD 1000.

It is just plain pretty, right? Last night, I was doing my run intervals in the South Hills, enjoying the pretty landscape, and the sun started to set. I have to say this is my favorite time of the day. Imagine if we had no stress at work and were able to enjoy every evening like this?

This weekend, I am going to Pipestone on Sunday with a friend. It will be good to reunite with the Pipestone crew. Then, next weekend, it’s off to Lewiston, Idaho, for the first race of the season. Lewiston is always warm and bursting with spring beauty at this time of year.

Isn’t it remarkable that most beauty and the experiences that come with them are free, just like this photo? Free for us to enjoy. And there are those that yearn to buy the latest cool thing. I am sure glad it doesn’t cost anything to view winter fire.

This is part 21 in a series of 22 blog posts that I am dedicating to my favorite photos of 2009. Today’s inductee and now a resident in my “Outdoor Adventure” photo album is “Hike“. I took this photo December 7th, 2009 at 1:10 PM with my dead (non focusing) Canon SD 1000.

My camera was dead and taking blurry photos but this shot of Ed as we hike up Bass Creek caught my eye. So instead of tossing the photo I made it black and white and here you go. It says “Hike” all over it.

The only thing better then this photo was being there. Julie, Laurie, Ed, and I were hiking up Bass Creek after our first dumping of snow. We realized this would be the last foray into areas like this on foot for the year. It was a great time.

One memory that sticks out was when I saw some hunters and remarked that they looked like Elmer Fud hunting wrabbits. Sure enough, it was rabbit hunters and to make things even more interesting, friends of Ed and Laurie.  Small world.

So today is the first Thursday Night Mountain Bike Ride and fittingly I transition from great hiking memories to the memories yet to be constructed with “the group”.

Oh boy, here we go again, diving headfirst into part 20 of my ongoing saga – a heartfelt homage to my top photo picks from the good ol’ year of 2009. Let’s roll out the red carpet for today’s star, “Painting Tracks,” which has snugly found its place in my “Ice and Snow” album. Snapped this gem on December 27th, 2009, at exactly 5:37 PM, with my trusty, albeit on-its-last-legs, Canon SD 1000.

“Painting Tracks,” huh? Sounds fancy. That evening, the setting sun cast a bronze spell over everything, its beauty almost surreal. In a race against time, and with a dash of eagerness to reach Blue Point, I captured these shots. My so-called deadline had been left in the dust a cool thousand feet and a couple of miles ago. But hey, who’s counting? Extending this escapade turned out to be a stroke of genius, as this photo quickly climbed the ranks to become one of my all-time faves.

Brace yourselves, folks. In the not-too-distant future, I’ll unveil this very scene again, but with a twist – it’ll be in landscape mode. The original, presented in portrait, probably mirrors my inner turmoil as I trudged through the snow, haunted by the thought of the encroaching darkness. Yet, amidst my haste, I stumbled upon a moment of serenity so profound, I had no choice but to capture it in landscape.

These moments have since transformed into sweet, sweet memories. Just last night, I wrapped up a 2-hour training ride under the lingering gaze of the sun. It was glorious. As winter’s chill reluctantly gives way to the promise of spring and summer, our beloved painted tracks will be replaced by a riot of wildflowers. Ah, the circle of life, folks. It’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it?