I like to communicate. Even go so far as to love it, I got my college degree in communications and minors in mass communications, psychology, and religious studies. The last three were happy accidents. Growing up words were my friends, certainly not people. I read countless books, so moving forward with my education it made sense to keep reading and then writing. Learning to write in college gave me an analytical and observant eye. I didn’t just read or look at words, I scoured them, picked them over, and understood them from a trained view. My academic values are still there and it has been years since I’ve taken any communications classes, but in moving forward with life, I am still right along side those books. When I read the news, my Instagram feed, Facebook, newsletters, ads from your local bike shop, heck, from my local bike shop, when I read those words they move me, just like the books of high-school and papers from college. What’s new now is that there isn’t an academic shield in place for me to qualify the purpose of words and pictures. Is this supposed to help me? Make me happy? Feel compelled? Do I respond to this ad? Are they expecting a certain answer?
It’s back to the land of green chile. The land of Matt Mason and Agatha and the Gravelerxs, sand and rocks. Where last time I was here I looked like this.
So I made it to Canada. Did I explain that? Probably in the last run on sentence in the last post on here and it’s pretty important, but either way I made it to Canada.
I thought doing the Tour Divide would make me “nicer.” I thought I would realize some long lost appreciation, that my eyes would open up and I would be a gentler, softer person. Less abrasive, complimentary, like I would smile more or something.
Smile just like that. Uncomfortable and confused at the DKXL. That’s right, I had no idea what was going on. A couple days after this picture I was packed and headed towards Canada.
Tour Divide whipped me into shape in ways that I could have never wanted. Forced me to forget about my “obligations” and relearn riding. Now I have a fresh, albeit grungy, perspective.
- What the heck is going on?
- I am taking a long vacation.
The other night I was having a conversation with this lady, let’s call her Kristine, because that’s her name. She was telling me to work harder, that I’m not doing enough. She wasn’t referring to things, she was talking to me….about me. The person who is doing all the things on bikes and mostly hiding.
So let me just jump into it. I am proud of the things accomplished over the past 7 years. There are pictures, race reports, and memories everywhere. Bike things, gravel things, adventure things. That’s it, where my money goes, why I drive a bus (sorry kids. i don’t like most of you), and it’s what I’m going to be doing for a long time. There is no end, just more miles.
Yesterday Landrun sent out an email about water. They designated the 100 mile “race” and 50 mile “ride”. No water and support for 100 mile “race”. Water and pie for the 50 mile “ride”.
They mention “self-supported” and what that means, which I don’t totally agree with. A checkpoint is support, that is not your “self.”
Checkpoints have always eluded me. Not because I’m a giant ass, just because I never got far enough to organize myself to use them. What I have done at checkpoints is see friends, find friends, share water and snacks. Sometimes that means at a “checkpoint” or at a gas station. That’s why I finish events.
Now I’m here..
SIMPLE AS THAT. I am in the process of pulling my head out of my ass. It’s my own problem really. The feelings I feel and why they stop me from doing things I like and make run on sentences feel like a good way to write. It’s easier to ignore the hard work when I am constantly creating more things to do. Words to write. Projects to accomplish. Instead of sitting down and looking at what is right in front of me.
I don’t have a lot of time to talk right now. Class or something has to happen.
What I wrote beyond this page is what happens when I pay attention. I don’t really remember when I wrote this, sometime last year. Probably after Landrun, because I worked real hard at that and it felt good. I didn’t go through the paper again either. It has something to do with bikes, hopefully about me liking them…or something.
You’re going to start seeing more of me (me says to myself). I am pretty stoked on that.
The Spotted Horse Gravel Ultra. One of the best organized, toughest, perfectly to the point 200 miles I have ever ridden. For some reason this race didn’t pop up on my radar until some time in September. Well…the reason is probably because I usually don’t ride too many events after August, or something. I have no excuse. Seeing that I had that weekend off it was an easy answer, go ride 200 miles.
Well, it means I get to ride my bike all day. To say I am stoked for the Spotted Horse Gravel Ultra would be an understatement.