Roads of life

 

When you can ride there.....

Riding the hardtail has its advantages. Actually, I'm really enjoying the autumn season riding this year, as there aren't many restrictions - aside from time. Cutting off on some dirt roads and just.....going to see, because I can. Amazing how liberating it is and allows my mind to just wander - and wander it does. These three-hour rides can really clear they mind - and burn a few calories, like an average of 2,000 every outing. Occasionally I just forget I have things to do back at home (or office) and just take my time, but the price to pay afterward is kind of a bummer. And to think we thought growing up and getting to a retirement age would be great. Be careful what you wish for.....

Back on the "Mule" - Mules ear before it snows again.

Scots and Lass'  78 -81

Why it matters

Summer football had it's unique advantages of making new relationships well before school would begin. Such was the case that summer of '78. All of us...full of piss and vinegar as it were - or so we thought. By the time school started, we had a leg up on having a hand on our new and uncertain landscape - called high school. There was that one afternoon/evening following a sophomore home game early on, when we were hanging around with some of the other kids that weren't on the football team, but part of our class. It was amazing how we all just meshed together like a fine tuned machine - maybe even a Swiss-watch.  Okay, maybe like an old hand-cranked ice cream machine, but we just seemed to belong in the same....thing. This was our crew that would endure the same type of thing for the next three years and somehow come out of it as adults ready to conquer and maybe even change the world. All that rubbish aside, I still remember that little gathering and what it would eventually come to mean. There may have been a dozen of us there, down by the old weight-room, by the east doors. It was all so new to us all, and we had our entire lives ahead of us - but what the hell could we possibly know? There we were and nobody really cared what side of the tracks you may have come from, or anything else for that matter. How you dressed, hair style, employment....we were all just kids looking for something to hold onto for the moment. Eventually we'd have the confidence and the audacity to let go and fly on our own. Sometimes that confidence would be encouraged by our peers, other times we'd be pushed into it by necessity. The funny thing about it, I don't remember any real peer pressure. Maybe some skepticism, but mostly healthy dialogue - mostly. And that became the mechanism that would propel us forward into the big world.

Last chance to do any bushwhacking before it snows....

When you realize what you had...

I've written about our gang - a lot, over the years. Our class was in that period between the hippies and the big-hair. I'd say by'78 the hippies were pretty much onto changing the world one mushroom, or joint at a time. By the time, we left the ranch, music had gone mostly "techno-pop" and the hairspray was out of control. Sure there were a few hold-on's, but not many. Maybe this can be attributed to the "MTV" generation, but that certainly wasn't us - at least I don't think so. The autumn of our senior year was without a doubt the period when we were getting our wings and looking to fly into the uncertain horizon. I can't say I knew where I'd be going into that particular football season. It wasn't until the week before our opener that I decided to challenge for a position. Prior to that, I was playing just about everywhere on the field. I don't recall thinking about making that challenge prior to that very moment, but when I did, I wasn't about to let that other guy have a chance. The first go around I beat him solidly. That kicked off a slug of other challenges involving other positions and players - none of which had happened prior to that day, nor would they happen for the remainder of that season. After a few other guys unsuccessfully challenging positions, the kid I had already beaten wanted a second chance, but the coaches were having none of it. They said he'd have to wait until the next practice, but I wanted it settled once and for all - "so lets go!". And go at it we did. I'll have to give him some credit as he came off harder the second time than the first with the coaches having to call it early to restart, as we both had lost our footing over the prescribed area - call it a draw - maybe. More determined, I was set on making this convincing and told them we're settling it now, regardless of me owning that spot at the moment. That third and last round was overly convincing. Let just say there wasn't going to be any doubt -and there never was. But now I was the guy at that spot and had to carry my weight, doing my part without excuse. Always knowing what my weakness would be against other players, I had to learn to use my strengths as an advantage - if I had any any strength to use. The one strength I know I always had was not only my teammates, but our loyal classmates. I've written about the time we played a rare Saturday game. Tammy and her crew were atop the summit at Sardine Canyon, on the side of the highway when our team bus flew by on the way to Logan. They made us feel like Vikings off to pillage the empire of unknown lands. Not long after that (maybe a couple weeks), we had some unofficial activity down at this little dumpy burger joint by the O-river. I remember it being dark and cold - maybe raining outside. I think it was Iron Horse week. Another of several games we should have clearly won that year - but that's another story for another day. I don't remember any underclassmen there, just our class. I'm sure they were there, but they didn't blend into our fabric - our Tartan Plaid as it were. I could list off the names, but could never adequately describe the almost magic atmosphere. What was clear - we were about to disembark and go on to something/somewhere else in our lives. We all knew the innocence had been spent and it was time to go - wherever "go" was to be. It wouldn't be for many years, like decades, before I would put that evening into context and understand what we had and where it was all going.

The last of the glass and sunny images for a while......

The tribute

It is said a soldier can never return to his home, or his country. I've come to understand that it isn't the place which has changed as much as it is the soldier. After you have experienced the death and destruction that is war, you never see things the same again. That is the same with life and going home. We all long for the comfort of what we may have known to be our safety and comfort of our youth - for those that were fortunate to have such a thing. Others were never that lucky, but we sure the hell were - at least I was. To that end, I pay tribute to my brothers and sisters that shaped my life in those special and important years. Sure, I may have been the only one to have been thrown out into a mudpuddle, stark-ass naked in front of what seemed to be the entire student body, but it all made me somehow a better person anyway. We all had our short comings and our insecurities, but we were still a part of something bigger than any one of us alone. The fabric of that particular Tartan Plaid is that which we all wear somehow -whether we know it or not. I know there are a few that will have nothing to do with any of "it" anymore, but I guess that is understandable as well. I mean, we were kind of unremarkable, but so remarkable at the same time. Stop to look at it for what it was, and what it really is anyway.

So.....why is it that I've come to this point? A couple weeks ago I got out the old year books to see what if anything Reed may have written back in the day. You know, the meaningless stuff we mostly have forgotten - mostly. Our sophomore year I had something written in my yearbook I never have forgotten. This particular girl who was a remarkable athlete and a totally awesome person (in my humble opinion), wrote what sunk in hard; "You are the laziest, but funniest person I know...". I have never forgotten that insignificant post. I also will never forget what I wrote in a friends yearbook our senior year, knowing the girl I was "smitten by" would read it, as I knew she would have access to his yearbook at some point. It was rank and disgusting comment if only to make an impression - that to this very day I don't know why I'd do such a thing, other than it was truly the path I was on for some reason. Whether the words we read or write, they have meaning and gravity. I can never go back and I don't think I want to. Mile Post 44 carries a lot of meaning, but going home isn't always what we think it will be when we actually get there. Maybe there is no going home.....

Remembering '66

One of my older sisters graduated fifteen years before us - from the truly MIGHTY BL. That class lost five of their clan to the bullshit we know as Vietnam. No other class from our school has ever had anything even close. Put it in perspective. She made it a point to find all five of them on the "WALL" when she visited DC many years ago - because they are of her particular Tartan Plaid. That was back in the day when the old "BL" was on the mountain at the top of Douglas Street - not over where it is now , where the "W" used to be. There was pride in being a Scot/Lass. Make no mistake, pride in your Tartan Plaid is real. 

Here's to those of my Tartan Plaid

Like it or not, we are all woven into our own fabric of Tartan Plaid. Wear it with a sense of pride. Nobody else can say the same. Remember those who are no longer with us and those that shook us all - somehow. Pass it along. The world needs us now...

Click here for "Baba O'Riley" - The Who

Pulling for Reed! Ride because you can....Make it hurt!

Feeling ALIVE!

 Healing

Moring rides are getting.....cooler by the day. But, man - are they beautiful days. Last week got away from me with client demands. Only one ride, regardless of how much I thought otherwise.  Add to that the storm that blew through, it was not a productive week.  Several projects all coming to a boil at the same time made for many late nights working on my computer. Last night in particular I had my back against the wall with a deadline and details that were not easy. Going to bed well after 1:00 AM, felt like the college days all over again. This morning was a must ride morning, if for no other reason than to reset my sanity. Exceptionally cold, the blast of cool air with shorts really heightens the senses. As uncomfortable as it may seem, you really feel alive in every sense of the word. Nothing special, just the usual 40 mile out and back loop - but today it felt a little different. The leaves are falling fast in the Valley and the sun is getting lower on the horizon by the day. It feels oddly comfortable. In a way, these kinds of rides allow for a little healing - call it self controlled therapy. Probably not a better way to start any day at the moment.

How things change

It doesn't seem to be many years ago that I would ride directly out of my garage into North Fork and never see another bike this time of year. Of course there weren't hardly any developed trails, but it was still great. Time flies but I guess it was about 15-years ago my better half an I would go out at dusk with a couple lights on and ride the service roads through the cold and dark evenings. There were a few times you'd see a fleeting shadow bolt across the road, just outside of the headlight itself - making for some chilling excitement. Now days that park is non-stop bikes - everywhere. As much as I love riding in the dirt, it kind of gets hard to find the enthusiasm to be in that kind of a crowded environment. As such, the full-sus still hasn't been back out on the old stomping grounds, as it is much more relaxing to pile some cross county miles on the hardtail. Depending on what this week brings, maybe I'll buzz up top of the mule - because I still can.

I've started to wonder why things, pretty much everything, seems to change or be changing? Knowing a familiar place, person or circumstance sure makes things predictable. But maybe those changes need to happen to keep us from getting bored. Perhaps it is necessary to keep us from getting comfortable - and being comfortable will get you killed if your not paying attention. So why is it we resist change? We know it is part of the growth cycle and should embrace it, but we fight it. There are those things we can't stop when it comes to change - like getting older.  Have you ever reminisced about a time in your life when you thought things were truly golden, all while forgetting the hardship associated with that same period? Sure, we remember bad times, but do we always remember ALL that happened associated with "the good times". Truth is, as we age, we get better. Okay, maybe our bodies can't cash those checks anymore, but we know so much more than we did before. We are better equipped emotionally and mentally than we were when we were younger. But yet we still resist change unless it is of our own making. There are probably a billion analogies like "one door closing is another door opening", but we don't always see it that way. Things change because of the normal order of things. Embrace change and the opportunity that comes along with the new vistas - while you can.

Embrace that of which you have...while you can

It won't be long and there will be 4-feet of snow piled up on that road. We'll have those stretches of nothing and then the seemingly endless days of storm after storm. Riding will be pretty much "not a thing", unless dragging a bike somewhere else. Although I did inherit that stupid snow-bike this past year. Maybe I'll see what that's all about. Meanwhile, the thoughts of mile post 44 and the misery of climbing back from Woodruff will be a fond and wishful memory. Never mind the pain and suffering that comes along with that golden memory, I'll long for that pain and forget how it really feels before you get back to the top. Remembering only the satisfaction of passing MP44 on the way home, knowing there is still a solid hour of grinding to get back to Huntsville. During that time, I personally will lament ever wasting a minute not making the most of those past opportunities - committing to do better next season. Forget about next season only for a moment and live for the here and now. The big races are always won during the off-season, but eventually those off-seasons will come to an end. Look forward, not with procrastination, but with vigor and energy toward your next monument. Take inventory and decide what you can change, what you can't, the assets and liabilities. Look at the horizon and chart your own course - while you can. Don't be limited to a dream, but compelled by your own ambition to make it real. Shake it up and make it work!

Time to pay tribute - next post.....

I need to think about this one for a while....

Click here for "What is Life" George with the Wall of Sound.

Pulling for Reed! Ride because you can......

Filling time and space

 

Another sightseeing tour - following the trail....

Brighten up things a little bit....

That last post really cut deep.....maybe too deep. That's what happens when I ride alone and haven't anyone to talk with along the way. Back in the day, a lifetime ago when I traveled a lot, I was more often than not on my own. 15-17 hour plane rides, 12-hour days onsite, all-nighters doing drawings and reports....I had more than enough time to think about a lot of stuff while being alone. Years back when I would run stairs in the evening or have a late workout, I would be too wired to sleep. Hours listening to deep-tracks playing solitaire - with cards (not on a computer). I learned early on how to compartmentalize thoughts and keep things in the right place. Putting the dark stuff away and sorting through the important stuff became an essential skill. You'd think by now I'd have this whole type of thing worked out. Most days...maybe I do, but I can assure you, that darkness I posted the other day was completely filtered and sweetened a bit. Going forward through the end of the year, I'll try to leave a little sunshine along the way - the kind that comes out the backend of a manure spreader.....

Peaceful reflection and memories

The feel of Autumn and the change of the seasons

I've never hid the fact that autumn has always been my favorite time of most any year, but this year seems to have been flooded with what feels like fresh memories of the past. I had this warm and clear recollection of being in the first-grade at the old Bonneville School, early morning recess, smelling the school lunch that we thought was so special. Seems the sun was barely clearing the mountain leaving the far east side of the playground near the tall fence on the grass - wet with dew and not too cold. Our entire lives were ahead of us all. This evening I plugged in an old Neil Young bit that I bought on vinyl early my freshmen year in college. With the noise canceling headphones on, I remembered how it felt listening to that thing track by track after football practice one night. Putting all those things in their order again, I could only think how much living I had to do and how it was all in front of me yet. I was living through what seemed to be a terminal heartache - what did I know? Not a lot of hunting that year, as college football doesn't allow for anything outside of class work, practice and workouts. I can't say that I ever had regretted that particular year, but I have long since forgot the burning of that heartache, hardship and uncertainty of what I was living through at the moment. That change....well it brings with it a clean slate of new opportunity. Unfortunately I had a tendency to waste a lot of those opportunities. As time went on, autumn became more a period to lament missed opportunities of the past year rather than looking forward. Putting those things back in order, I'm remembering what it felt like to have hope an optimism in the erasing of that slate. A lot to do, but I have been enjoying this season - for all the right reasons.

Calm waters run deep & the hardtail runs smooth....

Looking ahead with a clear understanding of the past

I pulled a spoke the end of the previous week and had to relace the back wheel on the hardtail. Stupid J-spokes can't take the beating I put on them, given I've had this problem on every bike in the fleet over the years. It's just a lot of driving force on that rear group-set, not any beating from the road or trails. As I was tearing apart the wheel and truing it up on the stand, I was thinking what I need to do if I'm gonna race this setup next year - oh, and I am gonna race this thing. As I was doing all that work, I was also thinking of every area needing improvement to be successful next season. I know exactly what it's going to take and it won't be easy by any standard. I personally have let myself forget all life's experiences that have given the wisdom and understanding needed to build a solid plan, but I've been dusting those thing off and reliving them with key focus on the details. As important as it is to remember what works, we also have to remember what didn't work and why - giving us that experience that only pain and failure can afford. Truth is I tend to only want to remember the good times and successes, not nearly as much of the failure and frustration that came with that experience. The other day as I stood up on this bank setting up for picture, I looked into that dark green water and could remember seeing this very place when I was like five-years old - terrified of what seemed frightening to my little eyes. Casting that fishing-line out into the depths of the unknown with the faith something, a fish, would find it's way on to my lure. For a moment it felt like that same morning, but it all has changed. And here I am, looking back at the past, turning to look forward with an eye on the future. Somehow that horizon seems a lot closer than it did - in the past.

Happy Birthday Reed, and wishing you many more...

Our brother is coming up on that anniversary that we all have once a year. His dear wife is putting together some things from the group of guys - some sort of memory we may have had from our youth.  Statute of limitations being what they are, I could divulge some sort of criminal behavior from our youth....but that wasn't Reed. He was a reliably solid person. Our sophomore year, he was a guy that I knew I'd have to out-do to make the basketball team. All I knew was he could out shoot me, had better court presence and a better work ethic than I could ever have. Aside from that, I almost had a chance to make that team. Fact is, he made the team for all the right reasons and ....well I spent the winter skiing and working. I did go back to read a couple of my old years books (like I have new year books??). I'm not sure what I may have said or done, but apparently he was permanently scarred by something I said or did, in seminary our senior year. I thought all I did was sleep in that class when I was there. Maybe it's better we don't remember those things after all. What I do remember is Reed being a positive person and always a steady hand in most any situation - not one to fly off the handle. Truly one of the good ones - for all the right reasons.

Click here for "By & By" Caamp -It rings too true....

Happy birthday Reed!

A not so pleasant trip back to the past

 

The calm of what was a bustling beach....

Distractions

A few good rides this week - out on the hardtail. It got pretty warm on a few of the days, but was still darn cool in the early mornings. One day in particular, I really didn't feel too frisky - rather I just wanted to do a little sight-seeing. Those days are frustrating as they seem to get away from you. Sure enough, I spent my day cutting across fields and parks - simply because I could. I mean after all, it is a cross country bike. I'm not exactly sure why I needed the distractions, I mean, I really haven't the time for that sort of thing at the moment. There are just some days when you need to slow down a take a look at your surroundings. And look around I did......

What your hear when nobody else is around.

A million Leadville videos

I noticed this year there are a ton of people posting their own experiences about racing Leadville. During Covid, it was like everyone and their dog was starting a new YOUTUBE channel, and a bunch of them were about cycling. Back then, everyone had "stimulus money" and were buying bikes left and right. That kept up through about 2022. As fast as it all started, it has now dried-up. On top of that, a bunch of the "influencers" have kind of started to go away as well. Sure, the big guys are still posting regularly, but I've noticed some of them are losing subscribers and regular views. Lets be honest, who cares about someone else's opinions on how to ride. There are some pretty good videos on specific technique and repair subjects, but you can only watch another guy's GOPRO video so long before your neck hurts. Everyone is a hero and they all have channels. It kind of makes me think about this stupid blog and why it even matters anymore. I'm not a pro rider, nor will I ever be an influencer, but by hell, I'm sure full of crap! And......well that's good enough for me. I won't be caught up in the incessant videos of my personal rides and experiences.

A voice from the past

Speaking of Covid, there was that day - June 4th, 2020 to be exact, that changed me like only  something as dark and sad as that day could. Hardly a time goes by that I don't roll past Liberty Park and remember that clear, bright and exceptionally quiet morning. A father, a brother and a daughter/sister....that was surreal. I will never forget how utterly helpless I felt, trying to make a difference when it couldn't have mattered more. I will never forget that lifeless tiny body and how with all of my might, she wasn't coming back. I'm so weak and incompetent. Helpless doesn't begin to describe that feeling. It has been years, but I used to occasionally swing into the Huntsville Cemetery while pedaling through the area. I have a handful of former associates and friends in that place. There is one headstone that has always been a particular sore spot for me, as it was my oldest daughters best friend. She died on her 14th birthday - unexpectedly. Her father had lost a very long and arduous battle with cancer this past spring, so I thought I would maybe stop by...because I could. I really couldn't bring myself to go to the viewing or funeral, as that is the same family from that day in 2020 -and those scars will not heal. I'm not sure why I didn't think about it, but on one side of my daughters best friend was her fathers headstone. On the other side was that of her cousin - June 4th, 2020. It got very quiet in my head for a moment. All I could think about was that morning and how inept I really am. There was a picture of this sweet but lost soul on the headstone that just made it seem even more recent. I will never understand why - it was a dark time for so many of us. The reality of it all was made every so clear to me again. I cannot even imagine what her father and brother must feel to this day. I will never stop saying "I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

Usually I link a reference track at the end of these things, but tonight.... This is what was written at the base of that headstone;

"As the clouds lighten from dark gray to off-white, the sun shines through, turning raindrops into prisms. and in this moment there is peace and there is harmony, and despite the wind that still blows and the rain that still falls like buckets, this trick of the light creates safety, it colors shimmering brightly in the pouring rain. and though I am cold and soaked, I know I am protected." 

- Charly Froerer

Never underestimate the worth of a soul.

Keep pulling for Reed!