Why somethings never change

 Recognizing the Facade

Low water exposing what has been hidden

Kind of a wakeup call, but I've come to understand that some people are and have always been presenting a "front". Some can't be seen without first being made up - or whatever. Others hide behind false pretense - simply put, a facade. I suppose up to this point I've only recognized it in the short term, but I've come to see that it can consume an entire lifetime - and I mean an entire life. It's made me stop and look more closely at myself, or should I say the fraud that I believe to be me. Sure, I can visit the land of "make believe" from time to time. When I look at the long term picture it is not what I would like to think of myself. The world is full of quick gimmicks - GLP-1's, cometic surgery, quick fixes without the effort. And then you realize that for so many people - people you may have admired, they have been propping themselves up all along. But then again, I've done a pretty good job of that myself.

Stacking up against others

I had the pleasure to ride with the "Legend"  - Mr. LOTOJA, this past week. He is truly a great guy for so many reasons. He drove up here to take a ride in my "backyard". Having never ridden this place, we went up the old reliable where we could get a good look around. I seldom if ever ride with anyone else. I just hate the concept of indirectly being compared against other riders, even if we are just out on a friendly ride. It's not a fair conclusion, because most guys really don't care about this "comparison" - as it really doesn't happen. In my own mind, I know I'm more capable than I'll ever give myself credit. I remember when I first showed up to summer football two-a-days in college. I was so overwhelmed by the size and speed of the other 120-something other guys on that field. It wasn't until much later that I finally understood I was every bit as capable as the others. For the longest time after that I often wondered if I truly belonged there. Truth is, had I ever thought otherwise I'd have walked-off during two-a-days. And there were a lot of guys that did walk-off before we had our initial intersquad scrimmage, the last Saturday of the camp. It was at that scrimmage that I first felt the charge of competition that I always knew was there all along. By the end of that roughly two week period I knew I had a place, but hadn't any reason to want to stick it out - or so I thought. I had let the emptiness of stupid life events distract me from my true "mission", again - or so I thought. What I learned was I had it in me to stand toe-to-toe with anyone, or anything when the right buttons were pushed.

Letting go........

A little snow on Ben

Pretending that things could be somehow different than they turned out to be in the end......pure fantasy. There are questions that will never be answered - full stop! The years have a tendency to skew our memory and reality. What some people have become is what they have aspired to be. Like I've said too many times to remember; if you look at it long enough, you will become that of which you are constantly looking toward. With that comes the rationalization of how we have become that person that would otherwise have made our younger self just absolutely puke. At some point we have to let go of those things that haven't any chance of producing a positive result. As much as I would like to know why things happened, or better yet, what happened so many years ago, it will never be resolved. During that particular period my freshman year, I did come to a point of determined separation. One evening while in a mandatory underclassman study hall for we younger football players, I penned a letter that was my attempt toward letting go. I can't remember even part of what was written, but it was the point of which I basically turned my head toward what I knew to be not right. The first step in a journey that would define the rest of my life. I had turned away from the lonely emptiness that seemed to envelope me, to the first next best thing - that wasn't anywhere in the immediate field of view. By the time I found myself, the brakes had been burned off and there was no stopping the inevitable train wreck. Boy, did I prove a point. At some point every receipt will come due - give it time. Until then, be wise in the baggage you choose to carry.

Click here for Linda - "What's new"

Ride HARD!

Spinning wheels

 Burning off Frustration

In between storms.....

There are times that the stresses of life, dealing with clients and digging through a building workload just get to be a lot. Add to that, support network failures that just can't seem to get it right - it's time to go for a long MTB foray. A string of storms coming up from the south forecasted to provide some serious precip in the next few days, means the season is getting short. I snuck out in between storms yesterday having to dodge standing water in numerous locations, but not seeing a lot of people on the trail - especially up higher where there was no sign of other bikes at all. The absence of other bikes meant moose on the trails coming off the top - always a tentative proposition this time of year. The "Timber Bell" alerted a cow and two calves that had just wandered into a blind corner coming off a fast descent. I could see the fresh tracks just before I found them around the corner. We were able to come to an agreement that didn't require me having to climb back out and go the other way. Not long after overhead thunder and rain kind of put a sense of urgency into the last 30 minutes. Getting home, both the bike and rider covered in mud - it was temporary relief form stress.

More Trail Improvements

More changes in North Fork

Long gone are the days when North Fork had few, if any improved trails. According to Trailforks, there are a total of more than 49 improved trail miles in North Fork, with more improvements being made - ongoing. Perhaps the biggest difference is the quality of the trail, with very good design and construction methods being employed. A few parts of the original Mules Ear are a reminder of what used to be the norm. Older parts of the trail are showing age and lack of design improvements, with roots and ruts requiring more skills than were previously needed. The trail up to the top is growing over, making it harder to manage a good line.  Add to that the rocks and terrain, it takes a little better skill than a typical "fair weather" rider can manage. It's still a great place to ride - my true "home trail", that goes back more than fifty years for me personally. As the "sport" becomes more popular, more demand on improved trails increases. A small price to pay - in my estimation.

More Huntsman Support

Two more donations came in post race, from a couple of long time supporters.

One of the other cool sisters

Closest to my own age than the others, this sister is still nearly an entire genre ahead of me. Still, this is where I learned what genuine and proper definition of good vinyl. That group re-wrote the rules that had been broken countless times before - establishing what would be come a few good years. I know that seems cryptic at best, but it's the best I can do to describe the class of '75. Long hair, fast cars and classic albums - I was just starting junior high, as a spectator. Wow! What a ride it was. Maybe some of that cool faded when she bought a Chevette. Still....it was a "Vette", maybe not what you'd expect. She still re-wrote the book on cool.

The Work Horse - J.D.

This guy and I go back many years professionally. He and I get together and everything seems to go off the rails. Meanwhile, professionalism prevails and we get the job done - better than pretty much anyone else could do. He knows what it takes to train and pull off an endurance event. He also knows how to keep priorities straight - somehow always doing the right thing at the correct moment. Darn lucky to have a good friend such as him.

Where to go from here....

I realize that most of these posts go completely unread. Kind of makes it easy to write when I know I'm the only audience. It has been an outlet from time to time, but for my own benefit. The question is; why continue to do it - whatever it is. I know why it started all those years ago, but I'm probably the only person that would notice it was no longer happening - the writing and posting. I'm getting to the point where doing frivolous things is getting put aside for those that matter. Is there an audience out there? Not really. So what's the point? I guess I'm kidding myself - which seems to have been a common theme in my life. What I think is a truth is someone else's folly. I've been made a fool too many times in  my life to count anymore. Maybe it's time to cash in and go home. One thing is certain; I've longed for truth and answers for so long I've nearly given up. Maybe it's time to move on.....

'72 - a lot of hocky and baseball. It was a good year. Deodato re-wrote those rules as well.

Click here for "Deodato - Also Sprach Zarathustra"

Ride HARD!

Making Time.....

 Why Autumn Riding is Still the Best

This never gets old. Unfortunately it will end far too soon. I guess that can be said about a lot of things, but this is autumn riding on the dirt trails. Things up here have changed a lot over the years - but then there have been too many years to remember. There was a day when barely an "improved" trail could be found, with any length to connect a respectable mountain bike ride. There for a couple years, my better half and I would go up into North Fork after they'd close the gates. Typically in the evening before it would get dark, however we did venture out with the lights a few times. That was always an adventure. Once Mules Ear was kind of finished, I would ride my old full sus 26" up and around the top - often having to negotiate passage with a few territorial moose. Now days there are miles of professionally built MTB trails, that provide a wide variety of options. I still prefer Mules Ear, going all the way up to the dead-end overlook, before sweeping down and climbing back over the newer  trail - "Moose Tracks". From my garage up and around the entire loop is roughly 10.6 miles, with about 1,800 feet of climbing. There are some evenings when this can get a little busy, but by the first part of September, it can be done with few if any sight of other riders. The cool evening air, even on the warmest autumn day, is absolutely amazing. Most of the time, I will make it back to the garage just before dark, with a solid 90+ minutes rolling on the big wheels. Try  to put a price on that.....

Near what used to be the "OLD" Artesian Park at Pine View

Voices from the past

In my lifetime I have seen Pine View drained twice before this most recent endeavor. The first was in the Autumn of 1970 and again in 1992. In '70, my oldest brother was fire fighter for the US Forest Service. Back in those days, I spent a ton of time in the upper valley and knew Pine View as well as my own neighborhood - or so it seemed. We had come up to the area to wander around the drained reservoir, hearing the stories from my grandmother about how the Bamberger train line ran up the canyon to the Artesian Park. It was quite a place, as she had described it. A little farther to the west, in an area still surrounded by water (at the moment) was a collection structure much like a cistern, in which numerous wells were piped directly into an opening. You can see the structure from the edge of the water, but can't get close enough to really see how it works. I think in '70 they drained it down far enough to get right out to it - through the mud. A lot of curious people out wandering about the bottoms, finding old remains of buildings and roadways - most of which have long lost their stories. While I was out there on the hardtail, those memories were a long ways away in my own mind. But in the evening, when it is quiet, I can see with vivid recollection, the image my grandmother may have described about a time early on in her life, of what she experienced. Those dark cool 1970 autumn nights, only three channels on the TV and left to our own imaginations - I could only imagine the voices of the past that I was never there to hear myself. I've lived in this valley for 40 years and barely recognize the place anymore. Statistically , it is likely I'll never see the bottom of that reservoir again. Now days, people moving into this valley (Ogden Valley) complain about it's name having any association with Ogden. They have no idea the history behind all of this. Damn do-gooders anyway. Things always change, it is a constant. The "cowboy mayor" and the riffraff gangsters...... those voices are only in my imagination anymore.

Three Weeks Gone.....

This past Saturday was three weeks since LOTOJA. I've kind of hit a slump in several areas. I got to be thinking about what three weeks before LOTOJA looked like - and it wasn't pretty. That was the Cache Century out of Richmond. I never really wrote about it, other than it was not good. The first support area stop was in Preston, Idaho - like pretty much every year for the past 20. I took a pretty good beating going up and over through Cove, but managed to catch a group at Franklin. Heading out toward Fair View, I ended up out on front taking a pull that cost me a lot of energy. When I dropped back to catch the backend, I got dropped - hard. Those small extended elevation increases going into Preston crushed my confidence completely. Knowing that we had an extended climb up Weston Canyon, I completely lost all confidence. After rolling into Preston Park, I watched as groups came and went, convinced I would be humiliated beyond repair. After only a few minutes I made the decision to go east back to the highway, rather than go west with the groups. Once on the highway, I was driving hard to get back to Richmond - a road I have seen countless times before coming from the other direction on the morning roll-out in LOTOJA. It was totally in my mind as if it would be the only time I would see this stretch of highway this year, or if somehow, I could put together a program and save the year.  Six weeks now gone, and having LOTOJA in the books, it is hard to remember how deep that hole appeared to be, or how dark my mind had become leading into that moment. And now, dealing with a slump of different sorts, I'm remembering to not let a single event get into my head and work through the low parts of a great season. Pushing on...........

One of the Greats

A few months ago, Rick did an interview with Billy Joel. Toward the end, he asked what he thought the best song ever written was (from a writers perspective). His reply; Wichita Lineman by Jimmy Webb. Funny thing, I've heard this from other performers and writers. Webb said it was written in the key of F, but it never plays an F note anywhere in the chart. Glen Campbell released it in late '68, with enough traction to pull into the early 70's. The opening base line is by none other than Carol Kaye - from Campbell's time in "The Wrecking Crew". For me it elicits subtle memories of hearing this on AM radio and seeing it on the "Glenn Campbell Good Time Hour". There are certain things I want to remember - my way.

Click Here for "Wichita Lineman" Glan Campbell

Ride HARD!