Monday, March 27, 2017

MOONSHINE

MOONSHINE.  It's been a long, long time since I was so obsessed with a single trail.  But wow.

Make it a point to get out there while it's still dirty, fresh, and amazing.


The rest of this blog entry is postponed for moonshining.
I'll be back when the stoke level levels out a little.

Down down down down down down down...

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Measured by Men

5-8 inches of snow.
2.4 inch tire.
6 inches of travel.
19 inch seat tube.
A fast 30 mile loop.
A quick nap.
A bite to eat.
A 12 percentage point lead in the polls.
A 10 minute climb.
All downhill from here.

One could write a book filled with lists of all the things that men can't accurately measure.  And of all the things that we, as a gender, can't quite add, I would estimate that snowfall is perhaps our most inaccurate.

But, of course, that's my estimation, which I am gender-prone to missing by an enormous margin, so pay no mind to it.

It's a good thing truth doesn't matter anymore, given our propensity to stretch it.  Otherwise, we might do something wild and crazy, like elect a woman.  

If you go deep into our current and massive discord as a culture, you'll find exactly this: two people who see the same thing two different ways.  It's easy to look at the world how you look at it, see it the way you see it, and call the other side wrong.

I don't think we'll get any better at measuring until we, on this side, look at that quarter-inch of snow and at least wonder a little if it's actually maybe 6 inches and we're the ones who can't see it accurately.  At least be open to it.

Maybe bikes DON'T belong there.
Maybe the EPA does need scrapped.
Maybe we are the ones who can't measure.
Not that any of those things needs to be true.  I'm talking about a mindset that yields the possibility that you might be wrong.  You're not wrong.  But you MIGHT be.



In my memory, I did the SM100 in 8:40 back in 2010, the year before my kids were born.
I dug through the bowels of the internet and pulled up the actual result just the other day, and in fact, I did the SM100 in 8:47.  But it was only 92 miles back then.  And that was in 2009, not 2010, and I raced for Bike Factory.

The transportation of the mind from belief to reality - that millisecond where the truth sets in - like politics, feels terrible.  We don't quite understand, and we never have.  It turns out WE are the asshole.

There's snow in the forecast for Saturday.  6 inches?  The truth is that no one actually knows.
We can only keep trying if, first, we listen.

Up, up, up.

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

“Any one-a-you lily-livered, bow-legged varmints care to slap leather with me?”

The new face of Advocacy.  


Fear not, Foof.  We are in good hands.  

Up, up, up.

Note To Self; Life Goals

Do this:



Before you do this:

Certainly do both.  But, in all likelihood, the order of those two hundred miles is vital to the end result.  One before the other.

The clock is only running one way, and that's up, up, up.

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Whiskey is for drinking. Water is for fighting.

Is the environmental jewel, the fragile ecosystem of Ragged Mountain about to be politically pilfered, STOLEN, I daresay, from the birdwatchers, the dog haters, the barefoot hikers, and the natural elite who have done such a super job taking care of it for the past 30 years...

THE SILENT BEAUTY OF RAGGED MOUNTAIN IN A NATURAL STATE OF REPOSE
Or, are we witnessing a changing of the guard?

Can we accept the rapidly changing and bizarre world for what it is, and operate within the framework allowed in our modern, fluid, massively imperfect society, where we stop obsessing and defending how we think things SHOULD be and start dealing with exactly and precisely how they really ARE?

More succinctly, are overprivileged white people genuinely capable of sharing?

It all remains to be seen, I reckon.

But know this, the hard lesson about holding on too tight:

That which you sacrifice to keep you eventually lose anyway.

Up, up, up.

Monday, February 20, 2017

Also, not all is lost in the world.


 Woodberry Forest Pump Track.

 Yesterday my kids didn't even know what a pump track was until about 3:00. Now it's ALL they know.

 Coming soon to a Preddy Creek near you? We shall see...

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Not all is lost in the world.

The Pantani ride happened, but that's so 2005 it's barely worth mentioning.

What matters: The Future.


It will be cool to tell people, some day, that you knew them back when they were groms, before they made it big, when they were stuck holding down the fort while their parents celebrated a dead roadie who did EPO.

Brian Lewis might have sent the whole Pantani route in 2:39, with a flat tire, on a road bike, into a headwind, shattering the record by 18 minutes or so.  That's cool and all.  But these kids rip.

The whole thing reminds me that I should be building much bigger berms.

Thanks to all who came out, shredded, drank all the beer, and made it home safely.  Prepare to be a part of how things used to be.

Into the future, and up, up, up.