The View From the Corner

A New Project: 5 Words 10 Minutes

2012-01-11T21:13:00.000-08:00

My friend Melany and I both enjoy creative writing. It's therapy for me, and it's also fun. This blog tends to be less focused on creative writing and more focused on total brain dumps. Mel and I like to get together and play writing games. We started doing this in college and now that we both live in the same city again we're able to put the pen to the paper again (We actually write! With paper! And pens!).

The exercise is simple. We pick five random words, usually the first words that come to mind, and write a story in 10 minutes or less. Nothing is off limits. They can be funny, sad, true, false, whatever. We find the most fun part is reading how different our stories are by the end. We both have definite styles that we tend to stick to, as well. I think when you're on the clock you write the way you're comfortable, but what comes out at the end is always a surprise.

After spending a weekend in Whistler and playing this game several times throughout, I decided it would be fun to start a website with these stories. This week I launched 5Words10minutes.com. I'll try to post new stories each day, but it all depends on how often we get together to write. Sometimes we write on our own, so there won't always be two stories, but they'll always be interesting (at least to me). So, check it out, leave some feedback if you have some, and if you have 5 words you want us to use then leave them in the comments and we'll write our next stories based on those five words.

After Death

2012-01-09T17:09:00.000-08:00

I guess you could say death has been on my mind a lot lately. It's not something I want to focus on, but it's something that is very real and has a feeling and emotions and takes people away from the world at good times and bad. I've often wondered what happens when we die. It's the kind of thing that hurts my head to think about because I can't possibly figure out the answer. I want to know what happens to my conscience. What happens to my thoughts, my soul, my memories, my dreams?

After the accident in Peru life became a lot more fragile to me. It became real. It became something precious and miraculous and incredible. It became something to fight for, because sometimes the next stage comes way too early. I'm glad that didn't happen to Evan, but I'm still reeling that it happened to Duncan, and even to little Newman. What did they face? What was it like for Duncan in the snow? Did he know what happened? Did he understand? Was he conscious that he was dying and that he had to take his final breaths? At least he was in the mountains, in the snow, with his best friends doing what he loved most. There is comfort in that. But, what about that first moment after your heart takes its last beat? What about those minutes when it's all really happening?

The day before Duncan died I saw a video that really got me thinking about this. This kid had a very serious heart condition his entire life. He managed to "escape death," as he put it, 3 times in his short life. He finally died 2 weeks ago at age 18, but before he passed, he made a video explaining what it was like to die for a few minutes each time. It sounds so pleasant.

On Friday I met with a friend I haven't seen in probably 4+ years. We worked together a long time ago. He knew I was going to a memorial service that night and told me about a crazy event that happened to him last April 5th. He had taken Aleve to remedy minor pain. As he was driving he began to feel hot and dizzy. He called his wife and told her he didn't feel right. She convinced him to drive himself to the hospital, which he promptly did. Soon after he arrived he passed out. Apparently he saved his own life by minutes. He went into Anaphylactic shock. During this time his heart stopped. He essentially died for a few minutes and experienced that gap between life and death that we see in movies and read about it books.

I asked him what it was like, if it was scary, if it was painful. He said no to all of those things, but that it was relaxing. He felt at peace, like everything was ok. He wasn't scared, didn't feel lonely or concerned. He didn't talk about any other sensory things besides his own feelings. No light, no weight, just feelings. I told his story to one of my girlfriends and she quickly flipped to a page in a book she is reading (nonfiction) that talks about a near-death experience that sounded exactly like the two stories mentioned above.

And then it sank in... maybe that's what happens. Maybe we continue to feel, but maybe we don't experience other sensations the way we used to. Death scares me for a weird reason. As independent as I am, I am nothing without my favorite people. I am nothing without my friends. If I don't have them, I don't have anything. The thought of traveling alone to the next dimension/life/level/whatever scares the shit out of me, which is why up until now I've not put too much thought into. I end up frustrated because I don't have an answer and feel annoyed that I'm even thinking about it instead of being out living my life. I just can't help but consider it all right now.

Lessons keep being served up like fresh sets of waves, even when I'm not ready and not anticipating them. Death is real, but it doesn't have to be feared. Hearing Joe's story, and watching those videos makes me more curious than scared. Regardless, I am alive today. I am alive and fortunate. I have SO MUCH to live for. I have the most incredible friends in my life that mean the world to me. I have hobbies that excite me unlike anything else ever could. I have laughter, love, and support. That makes me the richest person in the world.

Muzak: Top 11 of 2011

2012-01-04T08:53:00.000-08:00

Here are my top 11 songs of 2011. Keep in mind that not all songs were created in 2011, but they all resonated with me in 2011. I laugh listening now. It's a lot of emo stuff. I guess my year was pretty freaking dramatic.

Without further ado...
#11

One of the most fun shows I've been to in a really long time... The Wombats are awesome.

#10

This entire album, Black Sands, is phenomenal. Definitely in my top 5 of 2011.

#9

This song combines two of my favorite things: Dave Grohl and Deadmau5.

#8

Thom Yorke's voice is always hauntingly beautiful. I can just get lost in this song. I love it.

#7

#6

#5

Just a sexy, sexy song.

#4

#3

Seriously one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard. Ever. Whimsical, soulful - perfection.

#2

DANCE DANCE DANCE!!!

.....and #1 has 2 versions. I'm torn between which one I like more, so I'll share both. WARNING. This first video may not be safe for work depending on how lame your bosses are.

Intense, sexy, dark.
or

Super intense.

Kind of a crazy mix of music. Some good stuff to dance to, some seriously emo (for lack of a better word) stuff, and just some good mellow music. I guess that's kind of been my year in a nutshell. Intense, fun, and sad. Either way, I wouldn't have gotten through any of it without really good music. I should mention that several of these songs were discovered in ski and mountain bike films, the others were a split between just random discovery and recommendations from friends with good ears.

Swallowed by Sadness - I Say Goodbye to a Friend

2012-01-01T19:29:00.000-08:00

A perfect day.

Just when I thought I was in the clear for 2011, I received the worst news I could imagine. A very good friend of mine was killed in an avalanche on Thursday afternoon. I can not express the sorrow that fills my whole body right now. I feel so fortunate to have my amazing friends who've helped keep my head up this week.

Duncan was someone that held a very special place in my heart. He wasn't just another biker or skier. He wasn't just another friend. He was someone who went out of his way to make people feel special. He labored tirelessly to protect people he'd never met as a ski patroller at Whistler the last 11 years. He taught thousands of people in mountain bike camps over the last few years. That's where he came into my life.

I was in Whistler alone one weekend for a bike camp. It was pissing rain the entire time and he and I were paired up in a small group. We had a ridiculous time together cracking jokes and splashing around in the muddy puddles. Knowing I was there alone he offered to keep me company after our classes were done. We grabbed a bite and hung out in the village people watching. The very next day we did the exact same thing. It was easy to stay close friend with Duncan because I was in Whistler most weekends during the summer.

Having a good local friend was awesome. He introduced me to so many people that helped me navigate my way through that world that I love so much. He often offered up his spare room at his house for Scott and I to stay for long weekends. It was nice having a sort of home base. We'd cook dinners and read ski magazines. During the winters I'd awake to the smell of bacon. I'd crawl down the stairs at 5am to find Duncan humming happily in his kitchen making massive bacon egg breakfast sandwiches and packing his lunch for patrol that day. He always looked surprised to see me that early. I always made him give me a piece of bacon.

Duncan became friends with a lot of my biking crew over the months. We'd all get together for meals, drinks, hot tubbing, and laps in the bike park. It was the happiest few months of my life and the only thing different was that Duncan was there. He made everything more fun. Always full of stories and jokes, there was never a dull moment.

I have two memories that I would call my favorites with Duncan. In September 2010 he took Scott, my friend Oona and I on a secret mission. Since he worked for the mountain he had keys to the locked gates for bike and ski patrol. We piled in his truck with blankets and loads of sushi and wine and drove the half an hour journey up to the very peak of Whistler mountain. It was just before sunset. The sky was radiant and had this electric orange hue to it. Whistler has always been my favorite place, but seeing it like this, with no snow, from the top of the world at sunset took my breath away. We watched the sun melt behind the rest of the mountains and the sky slowly evolved to blue, purple and a deep black. The only lights visible were those of the twinkling village one vertical mile below and the billions of pulsating stars above us. We ate our dinner quickly and took some silly photos while there was still a hint of light.

As night crept in we all laid down in the back of Duncan's truck to stare at the sky. We were directly under the Milky Way and counted dozens of shooting stars and satellites cruising about their orbits. None of us spoke for a long time. It was just a special, incredible time we lay there in silence appreciating the sheer beauty that the mountains brought. To this day that is one of the best memories of my life. I felt special being there. I felt like the world was letting me see into its mind and soul. I felt like I belonged.

My other favorite memory was on a hot sunny day in in the village. My bike had broken and we'd taken it to a shop to get fixed. We had about 2 hours to wait. I told Duncan to go ride without me but he said he'd rather just hang out. We went to Starbucks and ordered big drinks. We found a big bench in the shade, tucked away off the beaten path, but with a view of everyone streaming through the village. We sat and watched. We didn't say anything for a long while. We sipped our drinks and let the mountain breeze cool off our hot faces as people of all shapes, sizes and colors wandered aimlessly through the village stroll. "I like this. It's nice," he said without looking at me. I didn't say anything back. I just smiled and nodded. "It's very comfortable - everything about it," he said. This time he looked at me and I nodded in agreement. "Yeah. It is. I wish I could do this every day," I said. He nodded and continued to stare out at the shuffling people.

I don't know why, but that short time just stuck in my head as something very pleasant and easy. We didn't really say much else the whole time. We just continued to watch until time was up. Words weren't necessary. It was the entire experience of riding the park, being in a magical place, perfect weather, and good company. Duncan was good company. I'll never forget that about him.

I could go on and on with this post, but I'm just going to get sad. I wrote a tribute to him on another web site that is worth reading, if you're interested in this situation. You can find it here.

Sigh. Duncan, you made your way into my heart and then you left so suddenly. It just hurts so bad. I know you're out there, watching all of us cry over this and probably feeling bad about it. Don't. Just know how loved you were. Your girlfriend, your family, your friends, and the massive bike and ski communities are somber and reflective and remembering all of the amazing times you gave them. I'll never forget you. I'll never forget that smile. Thank you for making my world better.

Peace Out, 2011

2011-12-29T15:51:00.000-08:00

My dream come true

Man, what a year. What a year of highs and lows. I can honestly say this has been the best and worst year of my life. I can say it's been the hardest year. It's been the most stressful, but it's also been the most enlightening. I've learned more in these last 12 months than I ever thought I could cram into one year. I've been to so many places, made some incredible new friends, and learned some good lessons as well as some hard ones. I've run the gauntlet of feelings from complete bliss to complete and utter hopelessness. I guess that's life, eh?

I'll start with the good. Travel. I finally learned to travel. Whistler, Aspen, Winterpark, Tahoe Tahoe Tahoe, Santa Barbara, Vegas, Vermontucky, Atlanta, Monterey,and VIVA EL PERU! I finally got to go to Machu Picchu, ride my bike in an amazing country with amazing people. What an experience that entire trip turned out to be. Now it's all I can do not to daydream where I want to go next with my bike. New Zealand and Switzerland are on the top of my list. Hopefully I can hit one of those in 2012. And, yes, I will buy travel insurance. And wear a really good helmet. My travels have been the absolute best times of my year. From biking in the best places on the planet with the best friends, to drinking exotic drinks, eating yummy food, staying up all night having way too much fun, exploring new alleyways and streets, discovering new things to love, hiking the local mountains, and basking in LIFE. What a fucking blast.

The music that represented this year (to me, at least) was phenomenal. Lots of it wasn't even from 2011 but the songs were all from memorable times throughout the year. Songs from The Naked and Famous, Grouplove, Bon Iver, Deadmau5, Wombats, Austra, Phantogram, M83 (undoubtedly one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard) and D.I.M. All fantastic groups with great sound. I guess I find my tastes slowly changing from a rock background to a more electronic feel. It's no secret to anyone who reads this blog (all 2 of you) that music is a big part of my life. These songs represent some of the best and some of the toughest times of the year for me.

Discovering new friends and new places. Both are amazing.

Biking! Biking is just simply the best thing ever. My two-wheeled friends are always there for me. Sometimes battered, often rusty, but always there, always fun, and always happy to see me. From Whistler to Cusco, the happiest times of my last 5 years have been spent on my bikes with my friends. This year I got to meet so many amazing people because of my bike. My riding circle continues to expand into the best possible family I could ever imagine. One of the reasons I love to travel is because I know I'll always have someone to ride with wherever I go. It's one of the best social tools ever.

But, with the good comes the tough.

Things have been hard this year. There has been a lot of stress, a lot of drama, and a lot of heavy weight to bear. Newman, the greatest kitten of all kittens died a very sudden death 3 weeks ago. He was extremely sick. We didn't know. He had heart disease and was suffering greatly. My heart hurts for him. He was the coolest pet I could have ever asked for. Don't get me wrong. I love Roscoe and the other cats with all my strength, but Newman was the one animal I wish would have outlived me. Now I can just remember feeling his heart stop in my hands. What agony to go through - losing a pet. At least now I kind of know what to expect, not that it will ever get any easier. Now every time there's an amazing sunset I thank Newman for that. I just tell myself he has a little "awesome sunset" button he pushes when he's bored in the evening.

The wedding of my best friend in the world. Xoxo, Susi.

Personally, things have been tough. I make things hard on myself. I get picky about things and stressed about things. The funny thing is that most of these things are pretty much under my control. Suddenly nothing is good enough. Maybe that's not a bad thing. I just don't ever want to feel like I'm ok with the status quo. I'm not. I never will be. I will always want more, even though I'm grateful for what I have. I want to be better at things, better with people, better at work. Self-inflicted pressure helps me to improve everything, I do, but sometimes it drags me down and I get lost in my own head. Maybe I'm delusional. Who the hell knows.

And while Peru was undoubtedly the highlight of my year, it was also the hardest part of my year. I've written so much about this that there's not much left to say. There will be a full article about it in the next issue of Decline Magazine

I have the best riding friends in the world. I love these guys.

Good bye, 2011. Thanks for the fun times, the laughter, the bottles of champagne, the friendships, the bowling with bicycles, the Pisco Sours, the loam, the powder, the animals, the best girlfriends, the best guyfriends, patience, humanity, and hope. I'll take the tough times and move forward with my lessons learned. I'll sum up my year with this quote from Mark Twain. I couldn't say it better myself.

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails.

EXPLORE. DREAM. DISCOVER."
-Mark Twin

Hell yeah, Mark.

Me, doing what Twain told me me to do.

Where I Am

2011-12-06T22:01:00.000-08:00

Music has always been and will always be a big part of my life. It inspires me, makes me happy, makes me sad, understands when I want to work harder - without interruption. It makes me pedal harder, dig deeper, think longingly for what was, what could have been, and what is just a distant memory.

Two songs right now are reflecting my current states.

This is what I'm playing when I'm feeling my moody side come about.

I listen to that (I prefer it without the video) and get all sad and depressed about how fucked up we are, and how things really never may be the same - on both a grand scheme and a personal one. It's still a new song to me so I won't get into what it may or may not mean. I don't care, and you shouldn't either. It should be about how it makes you feel. That's why I like it. For whatever reason it strikes a chord in me that triggers some heavy thoughts. I like when music reaches me that way.

The other song I'm digging right now is this one.

Totally different vibe than that tune from Manchester Orchestra, eh? I think it's because right now I've got two main things going: super happy and really sad. I think for the most part life is pretty damn good. I'm healthy, busy with work, riding bikes, and spending lots of time with good people. But while that's all rosy, I'm still lost in my own head a little bit every day. Sometimes I swear I'm my own worst enemy. Hopefully it'll all go away with time, but some things will likely linger. That's ok. That's life.

Lucky and Thankful

2011-11-24T13:55:00.000-08:00

So much to look back on it's wild. It really is.

I had a huge post written here, but it was just another aimless wandering mush fest, and I'm tired of that pattern. Let's get to the meat of what matters.

I am lucky.
I'm lucky to have the people in my life that I do, a house that is warm and cozy, the best animals snuggling around me while I type this. I'm lucky that I haven't been hit by a car in a few years, that I'm healthy, and that I didn't have a worse injury when I split my bike in two in June (seriously..that was some scary stuff). I'm lucky for a whole lot more reasons, but I'm going to move on to the thankful part.

This is where things could go long...
I'm thankful for my job. Working in action sports is a dream come true. Although it's not always easy I'm so thankful that I get to deal with the dilemmas that I do instead of figuring out how to market crappy products to people who don't really want them.

I'm thankful for a few things that may seem silly to you, but mean someone's life to me. I'm thankful for helmets that are well made. I'm thankful for good travel insurance. Seriously. If you go overseas, buy some. It costs next to nothing and may just save your life. I'm thankful for the kindness of strangers. You learn a lot about people when someone's life is on the line. Even those crazy ambulance drivers deserve high fives for negotiating donkeys and rickshaws to get us to the hospital as fast as possible. The staff in Cusco became more friends than routine check-ins. Strangers all around us, making everything better. That's not something to pass off. I look at people differently now. Maybe that's something to be thankful for in itself.

I'm thankful for bikes. Riding bikes has changed my life in the most incredible ways. It's taken me to the most beautiful places, introduced me to the most incredible people and instilled a confidence in myself that I didn't know I had. It's given me something fun to focus on when things seem otherwise unexciting. It's opened up a world of possibility of what I might like to do when I grow up...one day...but not any time soon. It makes me relish the fresh air and endless forests that we call the pacific northwest. Spending time lost in the towering trees, stumps that are 10 feet wide, and ferns that melt into one giant green flowing sea is better than time spent behind a desk, running on a path, or sitting in traffic. It never ceases to amaze me how beautiful our trails are.

Most of all, I'm thankful for my friends. Thankful, lucky - it becomes a gray area here, and one that I don't ever want to leave. I have the world's best friends in my life. Some I see every day. Some I see once a year. Some I haven't seen in ages, but are still as important today as they were the last time I saw them in person. I'm thankful that you make me laugh, that you let me cry, that you sing in the car with me, that you love tacos and margaritas as much as I do, that you confide in me and I confide in you. You walk with me in the rain, you ride with me in the mud, you laugh with me in the snow. You know my secrets, and I trust you with all of them. You are why I am the person I am. I owe every ounce of what I am to my friends and the amazing people in my life. Thank you for being you, for living (!!), for laughing, and being you. I wouldn't want it any other way.

So Many Questions

2011-11-23T20:06:00.000-08:00

I have always been someone to embrace change. I don't like to get stuck in ruts and routines but sometimes they're inevitable. I'm going to bike the same route to work most days. I'm going to order the same drink form Starbucks on most occasions (except for the holiday season when they have their yummy cider), and I will always put on the right shoe first. Other than that I tend to welcome change.

But sometimes it can be scary. Sometimes it can be sad. I think I'm dealing with the scary/sad change right now. I can put my finger on a few things, but some of it is just not quite within reach. I think the thing I'm having the toughest tine with are those changes that are totally unexpected. It's less harsh when you know the weather forecast and can prepare for the rain. It's fine when you know a massive project is looming at work and you've got to dig your heels in. But when change slams into your life like a car running a red light, it can be brutal.

I felt like with the blink of an eye everything was different. I felt different. Things tasted different. People looked, talked, and smelled different. Everything that existed before is now a distant memory. It actually makes me wonder if I'm crazy- If I dreamt it. But I know it was there. It was living and life was moving around it like a puddle growing around a crater in the dirt. I had dreams and vivid pictures to remind me of everything perfect. Even in its most minimal form, it was still pretty damn cool... then voila. Gone...or is it? How do I know where to find it? What if it never comes back? What if nothing will ever be the same?

So many questions. So many frustrations. So much... unknown.

Mind = Blown

2011-11-08T14:44:00.000-08:00

I live in an amazing place with amazing people that do amazing things. It's true, and it was so reinforced last night. I hosted a premiere of a highly-anticipated mountain bike film called From the Inside Out at a local dive club/bar. This was done for one reason: as a benefit to Evan to help pay for his recovery and all the costs associated with it. Smashing your brain isn't cheap; luckily neither is the local(ish) bike community.

Evan, taking it easy at the premiere. (c) Paris Gore

I didn't anticipate a monster crowd, but I figured we'd get 150 people, 200 if we killed it. As we prepared the raffle prizes and put on the final touches for the evening, I peeked outside. To my absolute shock the line stretched around the block to get in the door. There were tons of riders, of course, but more than that there were friends. Friends of mine, friends of Evan and friends of his friends that just wanted to support him. My phone was ringing nonstop as people asked to be escorted in so they didn't have to wait out in the cold. I had everything mapped out to the minute for how I wanted everything to go, but I sure didn't anticipate the throngs of people. We ended up with around 300.

Me, Ev, and our Peru hero, Dr. David Arndt from Portland.
Photo (c) Adrienne Schofhauser

At 8pm we opened the doors. The lines to buy raffle tickets quickly built with people deciding where to place their luck. The frame from Diamondback, wheels from Transition, Contour cameras, and Fox fork proved to be the hot ticket items, but there was so much stuff that people stood overwhelmed, not sure where to hedge their bets. I wrestled my way through the thickening crowd trying to get more change for Mr. Mike Goodall, my amazing doorman. Patrick was a perfect worker bee, hanging banners, setting up chairs, and helping toss swag out to the open arms in the crowd.

The line. (c) Paris Gore

As good as things were, they can't always be perfect. The club pretty much shit the bed on a few key points such as sound and playing the video in proper viewing format. It was unfortunate that the microphone solution couldn't be sorted out as I had a few things I really wanted to say that I couldn't. So, that's where this post comes in.

Thank you. Thank you to every single person who walked through those doors last night. Thank you for your presence, your hope, your high fives, your toasts. Thank you for smiling, laughing, cheering, hugging, and high fiving your way through the lines. Thank you for loving this sport as much as I do. Thank you for buying the shit out of those raffle tickets. Most of all, thank you for supporting your friend, Evan. I may have thrown the "event," but you guys made it a party. Thank you for coming from Canada, Port Angeles, Point Roberts, Bellingham, Portland and so on. I know there are premieres closer to your homes, but you guys put in the extra effort to come show your support. It freaking kills me how amazing you all are.

Thank you for not hating when the sound went out. Thank you for dealing with the shortened screen. Thank you for making those bar tenders the happiest guys on the hill last night. Thank you for telling me that it didn't matter that things were going wrong- that everyone was still having fun. After a while, I actually believed you. A few call outs are necessary: My brother for busting his ass all over the place; Julie Carroll for being the most stoked non-mountain biker you could ever have at a mountain bike party and for doing pretty much everything; Scott, George, and Jen for killing it in raffle sales and convincing people that a few more bucks was worth it; Paris and Adrienne for taking photos; Jon Kennedy for being the MC extraordinaire when I was too pissed off to deal with the guys running the club; my coworkers for showing awesome support for your coworker; my random friends who showed up because they knew how important this was to me; Frankie for helping corral that massive prize haul; Billy, Gully, Lars, Mandell for partying HARD - everyone. Thank you a million times over.

Billy and Ev - (c) Paris Gore

It's just been over a month since the accident and I honestly am blown away every day by the continuing support that is thrown Evan's way. I know that neither one of us would have recovered mentally as well if it weren't for all of you being there every single day, hugging it out, caring, and keeping us laughing. My friends are amazing. My community is amazing. Are you crying yet? Because I'm about to.

Ok. Mush fest over. You guys fucking rock. That's it, that's all.

PS- you can read a great post by Adrienne Schofhauser on the event here.

Love.

2011-10-23T22:02:00.000-07:00

The last 3 weeks have changed me in profound ways. I went to Peru excited for all kinds of selfish reasons. I left Peru thinking of nothing but the compassion that thrives in every corner of the world. It's sad that it takes traumatic events to learn lessons, but that's how life works sometimes.

What I'm about to say may sound weird, but I bet it's something everyone has wondered at one point or another during their life. My morbid curiosity has drifted towards questions like, "If I died, who would come to my funeral?" I confess that I have some selfish tendencies. I don't want kids because I never want to stop having fun. I don't want to spend my hard earned money on things that aren't going to make me happier. I play play play every spare minute I can because I'll sleep when I'm dead. I work out hard because I want to be in shape. Selfish. The question about the funeral- it's a bit selfish...and weird, but whatever.

When I was kneeling in the dirt in Peru asking the universe why something so horrible could happen to such a good person, I realized that none of that shit above matters. Money doesn't matter. Time doesn't matter. Running the extra mile doesn't matter (and all it'll do is hurt your knees anyways). All that mattered was love.

8 perfect strangers poured their hearts and souls into helping my friend. They kept him warm. They kept him still. They talked in soothing voices, not knowing if he could even hear them. They hugged me when I was nothing but a shaking mess. They told me everything was going to be ok, even when they had no idea. They cleared a path for the ambulance. They carried our stuff. They carried my friend, my heart, and my hopes to the waiting ambulance that took us to Cusco. They sat in the waiting room with me while I cried, and hoped, and cursed the world. They told me funny stories, when there was nothing funny to talk about. They came to visit, almost every day. They wrote us letters. They brought us sushi. They filled that little room with more love than I ever thought possible.

I can not imagine what it must have been like to be Evan's girlfriend during this ordeal. She didn't know how long he'd be gone, so she wasn't sure if she should come to Peru. She had to rely on me for up-to-minute (literally) updates on what he was doing, if he was talking, if he was eating, if he was awake, if he was sleeping....everything. She coped by creating a blog for Evan. She solicited funny photos, videos, and stories from his friends so that I could read them to him when he was awake. The amount of content she got for that thing in just a couple of days was mind blowing. Evan's friends from all over the country were sending in hilarious posts for him, trying to help cheer him up. Not only did it cheer him up, but it cheered me up. I looked at at it every few hours to see what was new, always surprised to find and read new content. All these people wanted was to give a little love, a little glimmer of something good to their friend.

When I got back to Seattle I decided I was going to host a fundraiser for Evan and his family. While we were fortunate enough to have travel insurance on our trip, the costs from everything are still going to be high. Brain scans, travel, long distance phone bills- it piles up fast. I solicited the bike industry and Evan's favorite companies for items I could raffle off at a movie premiere I'm hosting. I couldn't believe the response I got. Every single company I reached out to was willing to help. I don't know why I'm surprised at this point. People have been offering to send money, help work the event, help grocery shop, shuttle to and from work...the offers coming his way are never-ending. Evan, what did you do to make so many people love you so much? You should write a book.

My morbid self is coming back to me now. It's saying, "Lacy, if something like this ever happens to you, you'd be so fortunate to have half the love that he did." It's true. Evan's friends and amazing family never stop. Every day they bring tears to my eyes. I've never cried so much in my life (and I'm so ready to be done), but at least it's tears of happiness and bewilderment. I've learned what "love" means in a whole new way. It's undying support. It's making someone laugh when they don't think anything funny could possibly exist. It's holding someone's hand when you don't even know if they can feel it. It's people you barely know holding your head telling you everything is going to be ok, even they're not totally sure. It's the random lady in the hospital giving me a hug because I look like I really need one. It's finally letting it all out, even if it's embarrassing. It's so much more that I'm learning every single day.

Even though this has been hard, I couldn't have asked to learn a better lesson. Thank you to everyone who has helped me, my friend, his family and loved ones through this ordeal. It's been surreal, to say the least.

A special thanks goes out to the people in this photograph. Without them, I don't want to event think about what could have happened.

Peru Lists

2011-10-14T11:42:00.000-07:00

Things I will miss about Peru:
The incredible people
The beautiful colors
The perfect weather
The smell of Jasmine
The coca tea
The pineapple juice
The freshest fruit
The breeze
The mist
The Inca trails
My hotel
My hotel courtyard
My hotel restaurant
San Isidro
Attempting to learn a new language
Loma Saltado
Pisco anything
The downhills
The woven goods
The ladies in their hats
The beauty and mystique of Machu Picchu
The flowers
Riding down singletrack and having to avoid donkeys, cows, sheep, chickens, dogs, alpacas, llamas, and goats
The unreal scenery
Peacefulness
Wild dogs
Urban shredding
Watching soccer with a passionate people

Things I will not miss about Peru:
Honking cars
Riding a 56k long trail on 3 sleeping pills. Oopsie.
Slippery sidewalks (wear your flops with caution!)
Failing at learning a new language
Things lost in translation
The climbs
The crowds at Machu Picchu
The shuttle road to Machu Picchu
Riding through the poop from the above mentioned animals
Chicken

Having to drink bottled water

Lots of coins as currency
Having a friend with a concussion
Spending a week in a hospital

While this trip wasn't perfect, it was certainly an unforgettable experience. One thing is certain, we will be back to finish what we started.

If you'd like to see my photos from my trip you can visit these public links:
Peru Trip
Machu Picchu

I'm Feeling All Emo

2011-10-13T06:19:00.000-07:00

Big events in life can do that to you - make you feel all emo and stuff. This has been one of the most fucked up weeks of my life...but it's been anything but bad. It's certainly been stressful, and it's certainly been draining but given the situation we were dealt, I don't know that I'd do anything differently.

I've been sitting in a hospital in Peru for about a week now, one of my best friends is injured and laying in the hospital bed in the room. He fell biking and hit his head pretty hard. He has a brain injury but it's on the mend. His spirits are low, but trying to be high. His muscles in his face are slowly returning to life. His crooked smile is becoming more symmetric. His eyes are slowly perking up, losing their droopiness. Soon, that sparkle that his friends and family know and love will shine again.

I've never dealt with a range of emotions like this in such a short amount of time. I've gone from loving my trip to Peru to being brought down to my knees and praying to a god I don't even know if I believe in. I've cried more times in 7 days than I have in the last year. I've felt more love surrounding one person than I ever thought possible. I've been depressed, hopeful, encouraging, and doubtful. Most of all, I've been amazed at the strength of one person who has everything in the world to fight for. I can't imagine how hard it must be to stare at the ceiling in a white room all day long, unsure of whether or not life as you knew it would ever return to normal.

It will.

The doctors expect him to make a full recovery. It will take a little time and a lot of patience, but most of all it will take belief in himself. Be strong, my friend. You are amazing and you will come out of this better than when you went in. I know I did.

Peru, Day 1

2011-10-01T06:13:00.000-07:00

(written late on 9/30 and early on 10/1)

Today was supposed to be an amazing day. Today was supposed to be all excitement all day long. It didn’t exactly happen that way. I rolled out of bed around 5:20 am to finish up my last minute packing. I made mental notes while laying in bed to grab my headphones, an extra derailleur cable, a hand pump, chain break, and a couple extra pieces of gum. Scott woke up around 5:40 and drove me down to Evan’s house where we were going to catch our cab.

After Scott dropped me off and Evan and I were in the cab I received a text message that our flight had been delayed by an hour. This would make it nearly impossible for us to make our connection to Lima in Houston. I was disappointed, but thought maybe the flight from Houston would also be delayed so we’d be able to scoot right on the plane. Upon arrival at SeaTac we found a massive line at the Continental desk. We each had two checked bags, including awkward sized boxes full of bikes and parts. It was hard to negotiate the load around the channels of people and lines snaking throughout the terminal. My blood pressure was starting to rise, but we kept it in perspective by saying before we knew it we’d be on another continent on the trip of our lives.

Our next hurdle – I should call this a major road block, but I digress – came when we were checking in. After waiting in a 45 minute line (actually now happy for a delay so we wouldn’t miss the flight) it came time to scan our passports. Mine went through no problem. Evan mentioned that his never scans so he had to enter the information manually. The ticketing agent approved it and we waited to pay for our bags. The agent told me checking a bike was $100 – on par with what I expected, but annoying nonetheless. Suddenly, the check-in machine shut down and we were asked to move to another computer with another agent. When it came time for Evan to re-enter his passport info, our new agent immediately put a halt on the process. His passport was damaged and Continental had recently been fined for sending people abroad with damaged passports. After some hemming and hawing he told us that Evan would be unable to board the plane. Unreal.

I was in a state of panic. This trip, while my dream trip, is one that I’d grown comfortable with because I was going to have a wingman. Someone to motivate me to ride higher, harder, and take a few risks. Someone who knows the inside and out of our cameras so we could film what we needed to film and troubleshoot if necessary. I didn’t want to do this alone now. I pleaded with the ticket agent but he had none of it. He told Evan that he would put in a special word with the Seattle post office so that Evan could potentially get a passport in one day. Who knew that was even possible? The decision was on me whether or not I wanted to hang around and see what happened or get on the plane. With no guarentee that Evan would have his passport I reluctantly decided to continue on with my journey, but not before this new agent decided to charge me $200 for my bike, instead of $100. Thanks a lot, asshole.

I pouted in the terminal about the fee, lost my credit card for about 15 minutes, subsequently panicked, then forgot about the drama when we rediscovered my Mastercard was stuck in my passport which the agent had been holding. After handing over the cash, I said goodbye to Evan and hoped that I’d see him in Lima tomorrow. My next challenge would be to attempt to make my connection. They were predicting I’d fail, but said it was worth a shot. If I missed the connection I’d end up reunited with Evan in Houston tomorrow afternoon, as there’s only one flight to Lima each day on Continental.

Distressed, flustered, and tense, I made my way to my gate. I grabbed a Green Machine breakfast and sulked at the gate while on the phone with my best friend who had just returned from a 2 week honeymoon in Spain, Morocco, and Portugal. She gave me a couple quick war stories to make me feel a little better. Still, I was sad to be flying alone and worried that I’d end up doing the entire ride by myself. Not exactly comforting when it’s supposed to be some of the most challenging terrain in the world. Additionally, I hate flying and solo missions make it even worse.

Evan’s girlfriend had picked him up as soon as she could get to the airport to take him to the passport office to try to get his situation remedied. They worked on that while I sat on the plane to Houston, enjoying a row to myself and watching stupid romance comedies on TV. What is it about flying that lets you watch the worst crap that entertainment has to offer and be totally ok with it?

As we neared Houston I asked the gate agent if she knew where my gate for Lima was, as there was no gate assignment on my boarding pass. She told me that there would be an agent to assist me as soon as I got off the plane. It was looking like I was going to have about 25 minutes between landing and departure of my next flight. Houston is a pretty big airport. My chances of making my connection were grim, and the way things were going, I had zero expectations. This was turning out to be the worst vacation ever, not the best, as I had hoped.

We touched down in Houston and I noticed a voicemail from Evan. I checked it and voila! Finally some good news! Now, if I could just get on that next flight… I sprinted off the plane and made my way to the waiting agent and asked about Lima. He smiled, and pointed to the next gate over. Boom! More good news! Perhaps my luck was turning, as they hadn’t even begun boarding yet. I dashed through the terminal looking for an ATM, realizing that I had forgotten to get cash out of the bank the day prior. Going to a foreign country with no cash seemed like a death sentence – especially when I wasn’t sure how I’d be getting to my hotel.

After about an hour wait, my luggage finally showed up. Rolly bag, bike, carry on- all at the same time. I was relieved to see the bike, but the box had a little damage on it, so I’m hoping the frame looks ok. As I excited customs into the waiting area it was like being herded into a gladiator arena. There seriously must have been a thousand people all over the room holding up signs with the names of their cargo on them. I felt like a retarded cow being herded through a procession with my massive amounts of luggage piled onto a surprisingly smooth-rolling cart. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a sign with both my and Evan’s name on it. I smiled and told the guy there would just be one of us on the ride this evening.

After about 45 minutes we made it to the hotel Tambo in Miraflores. It’s a small beach community but that’s about all I know since it was dark when I arrived. I’m just stoked to have a bed for the next couple of days. All of my stuff arrived. There’s Internet in the hotel. The only thing that sucks is I was advised not to drink the water so I’m dreadfully thirsty. Breakfast is right around the corner, so that should be remedied soon.

That’s all for now! I’ll start snapping photos today.

Heavy

2011-09-21T21:33:00.000-07:00

Shit is heavy right now. I'm sprinting towards my finish line of September 30th - when I take off for Peru. But until then I'm just trying to sort out one drama from the next. This is so weird. I've never been a person to invite bullshit into my life, but now I feel like it's all I have. Every day I wake up to ridiculous amounts of stress. The two things keeping me going are my bike and thought that I get to get the hell out of my life for 10 days very soon. That's pretty messed up, right? Shouldn't I have all of these great things to appreciate in life?

Uggg. I'm having a hard time keeping things in perspective, and that's a huge disappointment for me. I've always been good at looking at A and B and figuring out how they work and why they work and how to make them live in harmony. I'm just not there right now. I find myself dreading real life and instead want to escape to whatever fantasy world I've created, whether it's on my bike, at my desk, or in my head.

I took on a big responsibility recently and it's just turned into nothing but a pure nightmare. Where I thought I could help, I've failed. Where I provided a part of my life and privacy, I've received nothing but defiance and beligerence in return. It's hurtful, even though I know that it's probably not intended. It's merely a byproduct of something much bigger and badder, and apparently uncontrollable.

I'm lucky to have an amazing support network. My friends, Scott, and my little puppy Roscoe are amazingly patient. I'm lucky.

Happy Birthday Tina!

2011-08-25T09:53:00.000-07:00

You're probably wondering who Tina is. Tina is my nickname for Scott. It's kind of a funny long story, but the name has stuck and it's one that my other friends use now too. Today is Scott's birthday, so this post is dedicated to him.

Scott doesn't care much for his birthday. It's never a big deal and it's always downplayed. We try to do something fun every year and I try to think of cool gifts, but I usually end up getting him something that he returns or wants to trade for something else. He's incredibly hard to shop for. I can't get him bike stuff because he can get it cheaper. I could get him clothes but he may not like them, and he has a lot of clothes - another thing he gets cheap through work. Instead I let him pick out something he'd like and I'll either get it for him or help him pay for it if it's something expensive - like a truck.

Birthdays are always kind of special to me, so I want to project that special on to Scott. Today we're going to go ride mountain bikes with our friends out east. It's nothing extraordinary - we do it every week, but toady we'll toast to "TINA!" and have a few extra laughs as the sun drops behind the mountains and the bugs come out for their evening snacks.

Scott is a pretty modest dude. He doesn't like to make a big stink of out anything, and I love that about him. There is little drama. There is peace. There is thoughtfulness. There is respect. Those things are balanced with a fantastic sense of humor, and a quiet sense of content. I don't think I'll ever have that same solitude, though it would be nice. Scott will go through this day like every other. He'll work hard. He'll sweat. He'll be ready to ride his bike, and he'll have a blast doing it.

Everything he does, he does extremely well. If there's one thing that impresses me about people it's talent. It doesn't have to be a specific talent, just talent. I've always felt like I've lacked in talent, but am attracted to people who possess it. Scott is talented at so many things. He's an amazing biker. He's incredibly creative and an awesome artist. He is a great snowboarder. He's super handy. How can one person be so good at so many things? He's the master of many things. What a way to be!

Here's to you, Tina, on your 33rd birthday. We're getting old, but having a damn good time in the process. I hope today is no exception.

Striking a Balance

2011-08-23T21:41:00.000-07:00

Things are crazy right now. Crazier than they've probably ever been at one time in my life. Work is completely bananas. Mostly in a good way, but nonetheless it's stressful. I've always said I'd rather be stressed out and doing something awesome than bummed about something stupid. I work for a company that makes really cool gadgets that people use in the most fun adventures of their lives. I can't forget how cool that is, even when it feels like the world is on my shoulders. I don't know what my weekly hours are but it goes pretty much from 8am until 10:30 at night with breaks to bike home and eat dinner It's full on. It's temporary, but still it's full on.

While my mind is focused intently on my job, I'm never one to forget how important it is to take care of me first. I need my sleep. I need my food. I need my exercise, but above all, I need my fun. Throughout the crazy times there are fewer things more important than disconnecting for a bit and getting out on my bike. Going on rides after work with my friends keeps me sane Monday-Friday. My weekends have been packed since May. I haven't spent a weekend a home since early May, and I'm loving that. Every weekend brings either a trip to Whistler or some other adventure on the bike. While my tasks at work are never far from my mind (clearly, as I'm writing about work right now), getting out and pounding out laps on my bike is the most freeing feeling during the crazy time.

Being able to strike that balance is something I'm extremely thankful for. Not everyone is able to do it, for one reason or another. I think it's another reason I'm lucky.

How did I ever survive without my knobby tires?

So... I Raced

2011-08-20T08:43:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's been over a month since I wrote here. Time flies when you're a busy little monkey! There was some fun thrown in for good measure, but mostly I've just been too busy to write. In my previous post I was debating whether or not I should race in the Air Downhill at Crankworx.

I debated this until the second of my supposed start time. Two days prior I had hired a private coach to help me gain a little more confidence on A Line. It worked. He was amazing and I felt good and I was hitting that wretched drop that almost killed me. I still hadn't hit the drop at the finish line, or put together a single top to bottom run, but I learned a few tricks about where I could make up some time and where I was able to relax a bit.

The day before the race was a big party at my favorite Whistler bar. Lots of people were there. The GLC is known for their buckets of booze. Buckets are just massive drinks on the cheap and they're fun to carry around. My friends and I started the evening with a bucket and one thing led to another and before we knew it we were getting pretty rowdy. I knew that going out the night before the only race I cared about may have been the worst idea ever, but I was nervous and needed something to take my mind off of the next day's events... if I decided to race.

Wednesday morning rolls around. My start time is around 11:45 am. I still can't decide if I should or can race. Our booth was severely understaffed and I didn't want to leave my coworkers alone in an unfamiliar place. The clouds were looming. I felt like death. That was it. There would be no way I would have time to race. It just wasn't in the cards. I was upset that I couldn't pull it off, but I was there to work first, ride second.

As 11:30 approached my friend Nathalie stopped by the booth. She asked if I was racing. I told her I didn't have time and at 11:30 there was no way I could even make it before my start. She told me that she was in charge of the start order and that she could give me until about 1pm. I laughed, still feeling like death from the night before but figured this would be my only shot. My coach would be so annoyed with me if he knew I'd partied the night before and missed my start time, but it is what it is. I was unable to get up the lift in time for a practice run so I had one shot to do this. My practice run was my race run.

I was petrified. I was so worried I would crash and so worried I would come in dead last. My 3 goals for the race were to stay upright, not get dead last, and try to beat 6:00 - an imaginary time I made up as important to beat. I lined up in front of the men's class that my new time placed me in. I had a bunch of friends racing in that class so we all gave each other high fives and off I went to the start gate. I don't know what it was, but I was incredibly relaxed once the beeping started for me to drop in. I just didn't care that much anymore. I knew I hadn't rested properly. I hadn't practiced enough. I wasn't going to win so I just cruised. I didn't pedal much. I tool it as an opportunity to ride A Line without someone breathing down my neck. That pretty much never happens when you're just riding the park.

I found lots of people along the way. No one cared I was a slow girl; they cheered for me anyways. I held all of my lines we practiced. I hit the rock drop with fear, but confidence and made it fine. The only thing left to do was the drop at the finish which I'd only done once before and not for a couple months. I figured I had the skills to do it. I just needed to go fast enough to clear it. So away I went, pedaling for a bind takeoff. I could hear people cheering as I sailed off of the lip. I landed perfectly clean and rode through the finish line. I looked up to find that I didn't get last! (I got second to last! haha). I didn't crash. I didn't get last. My time was 5:54. Goals achieved!

I was thrilled with how things went. I was shaking from adrenaline, when I realized I had to get back to work! My six minutes of glory were over, but dang they were awesome. Now I know that I can do this and I can fit in in the women's class. Next year I'll be a bit smarter about preperation. Next year I'll aim for 5:45. Next year I'll get a practice run in. All I know is I did it. I'm stoked, and ready for more.

To Race or Not to Race... That is the Question

2011-07-11T22:12:00.000-07:00

When I started out the mountain bike season I set a couple goals. I wanted to be able to clean a trail in Whistler called In Deep that has eluded me on several occasions. I wanted to do all of the drops and jumps that I was riding last year, but with ease. I wanted to ride better, and therefore faster. Most of all, though, I wanted to race in Crankworx, the world's largest mountain bike festival.

There's an event called the Air Downhill. It's a race down the world's most famous downhill trail, A Line. It's got just about 40 jumps on it top to bottom (all rollable if you're scared) including 2 decent sized drops. I started riding A Line a couple of years ago when Scott would ride it. He is a dirt jumper by nature and absolutely destroys the trail. I wanted to learn to jump a little more so I started riding it on my own. Last year I learned how to do the drops which made me able to ride everything top to bottom. I still can't clear all of the jumps but my confidence had reached a point where I was comfortable aiming to make racing in the Air DH my big goal for this season.

It all came to a screeching halt a few weeks ago. I was riding A Line with a big group of friends. I was the last one in a train of about 7 people and was right in sync with the rest of the group. We approached the rock drop as normal. I wasn't going too fast; I wasn't going to slow, it was totally routine. As soon as I hit the ground I knew something horrible was happening. I had no control. The next thing I knew I was wrapped around a tree. Everyone else had continued on, not knowing anything was wrong. When I came to I first checked that I could move then made to get myself and my bike out of the trail, as I was in the landing of a high speed jump. When I went to pull my bike out of the trail I was distraught to find that it was totally unridable. In fact, it was in two pieces. I started bawling instantly, not because I was hurt, but because my bike was totally destroyed. I couldn't help but think that the rest of my summer would be over because my bike was broken and I didn't know if I'd be mentally ok to do that drop again.

I was lucky enough to get a replacement bike very quickly and was back up and riding within a week. I was sore. My back hurt and I was missing a lot of skin off of my legs. But that was nothing compared to trying to work up the courage to do that drop (or any for that matter) again. It took me a few days to even consider riding A Line again. When I did finally ride the trail I was extremely cautious and never even considered riding the drop. The ride around is easy, so I just went with it. I couldn't help but feel disappointed that I was afraid to do something that I know how to do well. It's just that there was that mental block- I can't explain it, but I was completely petrified of having the same thing happen again.

After a couple more days of riding the park I decided that I had to get over it. I was doing other drops that were bigger and tougher, but they didn't carry the legacy of a crash. Finally I followed Scott off the drop and landed it perfectly. It was a huge relief, but it didn't settle my nerves. I went to ride it again and before I dropped into the trail my mind got the best of me. I began to pedal and started crying as I was riding in. This was supposed to be fun, why the hell was I crying? Competitive me had to suck it up and just do it. I laughed at how silly I was behaving and charged into the trail on my own, knowing that if anyone had seen me looking like a sobbing fool they would have scratched their head and wondered what the hell my problem was. I hit the drop flawlessly and rode the rest of the trail without issue.

I've only ridden the trail a handful of times since then, each time wondering if I have what it takes to race in the Air Downhill. I'm not kidding myself. I know I'm not going to come close to winning. In fact, my only two goals in the race would be to keep it upright and not get dead last. I hadn't actually considered racing after the crash and am still unsure if I should do it or not. Crankworx starts on Saturday. The AirDH is next Wednesday afternoon. I arrive on Saturday and will have four solid days of practice to see how I feel. I'd give anything to experience the feeling of a clean race run on that trail, but I just don't know if I can keep it together from top to bottom.

Competitive me thinks that I may give it a shot. Practical me is thinking there's no sense in getting injured before I take off for Peru...then competitive me comes in and says, "yea, but that's months away. Plenty of time to heal! Suck it up, sissy!" Yikes! Who do I listen to??? I have to decide soon. Registration time is closing in...

Gong!

2011-07-10T23:03:00.000-07:00

Today was a weird day. I had to wonder if there was a full moon or if there was something strange going on with the stars. Two of my coworkers are really into astrology and blame lots of things on Mercury being in retrograde, or the moon or other stuff like that. Sometimes when things just don't make sense, it's kind of nice to have a fall guy that isn't human, and I don't mind saying, "screw you, stars!" So, I'll have to ask them tomorrow if anything weird is going on up there.

Some friends and I had planned to go on a pretty different ride (for me) today. We were going to shuttle Kachess Ridge out east of the Cascades. I rarely venture to the other side of the mountains. The temperature goes up and the rednecks appear from the woodwork. It's a weird place. But I'd heard Kachess was a beautiful ride and now that I've got a trail bike I'm all about experimenting on new routes. Scott and I packed up the truck and set off to meet up with two friends around 1:30. As we were entering the I90 tunnel we heard a loud screech of tires followed by an even louder crash. It was that unmistakable sound of crunching metal. I turned around just in time to see a truck drive up on the embankment of the tunnel, only 2 or 3 cars behind us. Silly us, our first thoughts were, "Phew! Our bikes are safe!" Shaken, we continued on our way.

After a bit of a gong show with traffic we eventually met up with our friends. We set out the 70 miles to Kachess in two trucks: one to shuttle in, and one to be used to retrieve. We got to Kachess around 3pm and all piled into one truck. The drive up was about 30 minutes of steep, sketchy fire road; it would be grueling on a bike, no doubt. It took us a while to find the trial head as nothing is marked and we were going off of an archaic map. After several stops and head scratching sessions we finally found the plateau that held the trail head. Excited and stunned by the incredible views, I scampered off to take some photos for my "bike" album. Massive rock spires that you can't see from the freeway poked out from the northern faces of the mountains. It looked like Mordor, except sunny and immaculate. Massive snow fields drifted down the flatter sides of the mountains. The air was cool and clean. There were few clouds, and the sun warmed our faces as we all took in the sites.

As we were getting ready a friend asked if I had a pack. I hadn't really thought to bring one because shuttles are usually just hot laps where if something bad happens, you can just walk out without an issue. Turns out, this was a hell of a long descent (around 10 miles) and I could have been really screwed had something bad happened. With that in mind I decided to keep my phone on me as my lone weapon for survival. Two of the boys had packs with water and the necessary tools to fix a broken bike. Scott and I were pretty useless and and crossed our fingers that nothing scary would happen.

After snapping a few photos we all dropped in to the trail. It was dry and rutted and flowy. Very different that the wet loam I'm used to, but exactly what I needed to prepare for my Peru trip. I took things slow as the bike is still new to me and the trail was completely foreign. After about 1 minute I encountered a couple patches of snow, where I caught up to the boys gingerly walking their bikes across the slick parts. We got back on and descended a bit more (at this point we'd only been riding for about 5 minutes total, so not long, thankfully.) until we reached a snowfield that stretched as far as we could see. Interestingly enough, when we were talking about doing this ride, our biggest concern was that the road may be washed out on the drive up, not that we wouldn't be able to ride due to massive amounts of old snow.

While the temperatures were noticeably cooler in the shady snow regions, it was still quite pleasant. I snapped a couple more photos while Scott hiked where we thought the trail may go to see if there was an obvious route down. The other two boys consulted their maps to see if we would be on the north side of the mountains the entire time. I started thinking this may just be a total loss. After about 10 minutes Scott came back and asked how long the trail runs along the north side of the mountains. The guys responded with a sullen, "the entire trail is on the north side." We were totally hosed. We had no choice but to hike back to the top of the trail. It got me to thinking how lucky we were that we hadn't ridden miles before we encountered an impasse. How would we have gotten out of it? Would we have really turned around and ridden singletrack back up? Even if it was really steep? Thankfully we didn't have to make that decision. The hike out took maybe 10 or 15 minutes. No big deal. But, what a bummer it was to go all that way and then not be able to ride.

After writing the day off as a total biking loss we decided to all meet in downtown Seattle for dinner. Thai food was sounding good so we all headed that direction. The drive was long. We were getting tired. All we wanted was some food. Scott and I arrived at the restaurant first and as we approached the front door, we saw that it was closed. Seriously. What else could happen today? We decided that it was probably best if we just headed home and called it a day.

Nothing catastrophic happened (to us at least. Can't say the same for the poor bastards in the car crash.) The adventure out to Kachess was actually pretty fun, albeit disappointing that we couldn't ride. I always enjoy hanging out with my bike buddies, even if we don't always get to do what we want. I learned to be better prepared, as you just never know what might happen. I just couldn't believe all of the strange things that happened today. Seriously - it must be the stars.

I Did it.

2011-07-07T21:49:00.000-07:00

I booked my trip to Peru!
Machu Picchu here I come!

10 days of mountain biking in one of the most beautiful places on the planet. My credit card is crying, but it's only money. It'll be part fun, and part work. I did get a hefty discount due to my job. Unreal. I can't wait.

My Friends

2011-06-15T22:05:00.000-07:00

I am so damn lucky. I've written about this before, but I am reminded every single day how amazing my friends are. My girl friends, my guy friends, my work friends,my family, my pets - they're all just amazing. It's funny how life twists and turns as they days come and go. It's funny what you can control and what you can't. It's often what you can't that eats away at you the most, but it's when you can control it and you choose to do unconventional things that life gets interesting. These are the times when having a good friend by your side makes everything more fun.

It's weird to say that I've had some friends for twenty years. That feels like a lifetime. I guess it is, for some people. I moved around a lot when I was little. We lived in several cities in Virginia, then we lived in Florida - that big move coming just before my fifth grade year. I met a group of girls in fifth and sixth grade that I'm still very close with to this day. We were ten at the time. We all had crushes on the same boys, which was such drama then, but so funny now. Fast forward two decades and the last one of us just got married a few weeks ago in Atlanta. Most of them have kids. All of us have careers, amazing lives, and our own corners of the country to call home. I feel so lucky to have these women in my life, even if I only get to see them when someone gets married or if some sort of reunion is on the books. They're smart, funny, and incredibly fun to be around.

When I moved to Seattle when I was 17, I was instantly tossed into the University world and NCAA athletics world. College was crazy, as it probably is for most people. I was lucky enough to meet a group of people through rowing that I could cling to. They were my Seattle family. They became my roommates and best friends. We did everything together. After graduation everyone went their separate ways. Some moved east, some moved south, some went abroad. 10 years later they're starting to trickle back to Seattle. We never lost touch, but we did lose face-time. That's becoming less and less scary as the evolution of social networks continues to make staying in contact easier than ever before. Still, nothing satisfies like grabbing a drink with an old buddy who went through hell and back with you as a freshmen in a foreign (to me) land.

When I worked at RealNetworks I was incredibly fortunate to meet and work with some amazing people. This was a team that I don't think could ever be replicated in any regard. They were brilliant, more fun than any work team should ever be, and highly inappropriate. It made going to work fun every day, even if your job sucked. We were together for years, and every day was fun. We ate lunch together, we went to happy hour together, we traveled together, we went through breakups and births together. Never have I had such an amazing cohesion with colleagues. Most of us don't work at RN anymore, but we're all still very close.

When I finally decided to learn to love riding my mountain bike I met another amazing group of people. It continues to grow every week as I ride new places and keep meeting new people. The group of people I get to ride with are basically an extension of my family. They see me at my best and at my worst. They see me super early in the morning, really late at night, when I'm the most scared, when I'm hurt, and when I'm absolutely elated. They see me cry, they see me learn new things, and the best part is they help me become a better biker and a better person each time I'm around them. None of these bike friends would be mine if it weren't for Scott introducing me to the bike in the first place. That may be the most important friend I ever made...

The best part of all of these groups? It's when they somehow intermingle. Work friends mesh with bike friends that mesh with college friends who hear about crazy stories from my high school days. It's this crazy web of friend-awesomeness and it makes me smile just thinking about how it all came to be. I like to think that I offer good things to them, too, but I don't think I could ever be half as amazing as they are to me. Whether it's just for a laugh, or for some crappy life therapy session, I seriously have the best friends in the world. I am reminded of that every single day, and I couldn't be happier about it.

My Dream Should Come True

2011-05-13T22:13:00.000-07:00

I keep saying that I need a vacation. Know why? Because I really need a freaking vacation. Things are crazy for me right now on so many levels. I need an escape. I need to take more than 3 days off of work. I need to not have to deal with life on the same level I deal with every day. I've never taken an entire work off of work. Ever. I need to do something different and completely freeing.

For the last few years I've been dreaming of an escape to South America. Specifically, I've wanted to explore the Patagonia region or Peru. I've got friends who guide in both areas and have heard nothing but great things about both places. There are so many reasons why I haven't taken the time to do explore these places: money, lack of time, too many local responsibilities, etc... it just never was going to work. Lately, though, I've been looking into it more and more. I'm completely obsessed with the idea of taking my mountain bike with me and exploring the region on two wheels. Knowing that I am stressed out and, quite frankly, haggered right now, a friend suggested I check out Big Mountain Bike adventures. I've now got a new obsession.

Let's call them BMBA for short. They do exactly what I need. They take us city folk who have no time to really get out and fully get lost in nature and throw us into the throngs of big mountain riding. We can take our fancy bikes and our fancy gear and leave all of our weekly and daily stresses aside and just ride. Ride our asses off. Ride through the lush green forests of South America, the steep winding trails of New Zealand, the muddy haven in British Columbia. They take mountain bikers and make their trail dreams come true. I. Need. This. I need it so bad. I began to explore their site and found a 10 day trip to Machu Picchu and Peru that leaves in late September.

It's technically an "all mountain ride," which means there will be some climbing and my current bike is not suitable for that. I've been searching for a trail bike for a few months and that would be the perfect weapon. Exploring Machu Picchu has been a dream of mine for years. Now that I know I can actually ride my bike around there I can't really think about much else.

I contacted the owner of the organization this week to discuss the program and see if there was any way I'd be able to tie in my work with their trips. We've just begun talking but I think there is so much potential to weave the two organizations together. My company is all about sharing epic stories. Their company is all about creating those epic stories. It's a match made in heaven.

As I go to sleep at night I think about what that trip might be like. Long, warm, windy descents, full of dusty rocky trails. The occasional jungle trail covered in deep tree canopy would just be simply amazing. Meeting locals, experiencing the culture, cuisine and lifestyle for just a few days would be so welcome. Doing something so different, just disconneting, would be unheard of for me. I can't go 2 hours without gripping my phone to make sure I haven't missed an email, text, or call. I need to be free for a bit. I need to wander, to ride, to roam.

September is still a few months away. I've got much to do before then, but I'm hoping I can dedicate several posts this fall to my trip to South America. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Things I Learned at Cypress

2011-05-07T22:51:00.000-07:00

Today I went and rode my downhill bike (attempted to, at least) down some of the gnarliest trails known to man. These trails are famous the world over for their incredible handcrafted stunts, flow, scenery and overall build. They are truly incredible. More than anything they're extremely humbling.

Random photo on the 'tubes of one of the trails from today. Burly!

I don't think I'm a great mountain biker, but I think I'm a decent rider. And, as lame as this might sound, I think I'm pretty good, "for a girl." Either way, I was excited to go to the famed North Shore for my first time. I've lived in Seattle for nearly 13 years and have never been there on a bike for many reasons: I didn't think I was good enough, I didn't have anyone to go with, the timing wasn't right, etc. It all finally fell into place today. I headed up with two friends and met a few other guys from Bellingham and Vancouver at 11 this morning.

Cypress is known as the toughest of the North Shore riding areas - at least in my circle of friends. Scott didn't want to go. It's not his style, and he had no interest in riding in the forecasted rain, on the steep rooty, rocky terrain. I couldn't wait, but confess to be totally terrified of what I'd heard about the trails. They were supposed to be steeper than anything I'd ever ridden. They were rockier. It was going to be wetter. It would make me want to walk everything. The verdict? It was all true.

It humbled me more than I could have imagined. I did walk a ton of the features. They were just crazy. I had gone over my bars a few times early on which shook my confidence. I also had 6 other people waiting on me which puts a lot of pressure on you when you're trying to make sure everyone has a fun time. No one likes waiting for a long time on a cold rainy trail. Unfortunately, I'm always the one they're waiting for, but I think they know that I'm trying and they're always patient. I appreciate it more than they can possibly know.

The conditions for the day left much to be desired. It was raining, and at times, it was raining hard. What might be trickles of water on normal "spring days" were transformed into gushing waterfalls off the side of the shuttle road. Everything was wet. Wet wood is sketchy to begin with. Wet wood covered in mud is petrifying to me. Luckily it had rained hard enough that the majority of mud had been washed off of the wood features and the rocks. That also meant we were riding in streams and on super super wet roots. Just the way it's supposed to be.

The first trail we rode was great. It wasn't steep, it flowed well and the entire thing had been transformed into a creek. "Ride the river" for the best traction, and I swear to God, it totally worked. I felt like my tires were super grippy even in the water, the rain, the mud - whatever. Yay for the river! That first run was definitely my best run of the day. I only crashed a couple times and they were all minor, so nothing was a big deal. Every subsequent run was more and more difficult. I was tired, the trails were much steeper, scarier, and intimidating. I kept saying, "I hope I don't die." I was kidding, of course, but I was honestly a bit freaked out about really getting hurt. With Whistler set to open in just a couple of weeks (woohoo!) the last thing I want to do is break a bone, tear an important tendon, or do something really sketchy. Lucky for me, I'm pretty damned good at falling (knock on wood) and roll quite well, so every crash ended without much incident.

In the end, I found myself exhausted. Exhausted from falling. Exhausted from walking down parts of the trail that were meant to be ridden, but I found myself too scared to attempt. Exhausted from hiking up trails when I went the wrong way. Exhausted from simple adrenaline overload. I only did 3 laps. By no means is that any physical feat. But, 3 laps on these trails was enough to put a lot of things in perspective.

Before I headed to Cypress I heard a lot of things and received a lot of advice from a lot of people. The thing that kept creeping up in my brain was, "No matter what, don't get frustrated. It's ok to walk. It's ok to not be able to do something." I was just happy to be at a point in my biking life where I could even attempt some of these things. I won't sit here and say I didn't get frustrated at all, but my frustrations quickly melted away when I took a breath, looked around and realized my surroundings. There I was, over the bars, and face first in a pile of mud, but honestly, it couldn't have been in a more beautiful part of the world. There were waterfalls all around me. The most luscious of lush green forests folding in on me while I sat there gathering my breath and my bike. It was raining, and foggy - exactly how I'd always imagined the North Shore. Surely the sun exists here, too, but it's not a part of the mystique. It's about the trail. The flow, the roots, the rocks, the wet. It was all there - more than I could have imagined; better than I could have imagined. Nothing could take away from the reality of the situation. I was where any legitimate mountain biker would kill to be, and I was loving (mostly) every second of it.

A lot of times how your day ends up has a lot to do with the company you keep. I'm so lucky in this regard. The guys that I get to ride my bike with are just rad dudes. They're fun, smart, and above all, they're just incredibly patient and supportive of me as I try to navigate my way through this world. When I'm having a bad day, they make me laugh. Everyone tries to encourage everyone else. Even the best of the riders needs encouragement from time to time. We're lucky to want to be there to push each other, to high five each other, and to pick one another up when we fall a little too hard. Riding alone is fine, but riding with people that you enjoy spending time with for 12 hours a day is pretty cool.

I won't pretend that I am someone who honestly belongs on my bike at Cypress. The trails are big, steep, and incredibly technical. They're like nothing I've ridden in Washington or Whistler. The roots take a mind of their own as they crawl across the off-camber hillsides, grab your tires, and bring you to your knees before you even have a second to take a breath. The rocks are plentiful, and grippy, and steep. They form steep channels that you have to negotiate between the fingers of roots that greet you at every steep switchback. The technical requirements are very very high. I'm not quite there yet, but I'm working on it. Knowing what to expect is half the challenge of any trail. If nothing else, this elevated my goals for this year. I want to practice. I want to go back. I want to fall less and ride more. I want to not hold back my frustrations, but smile and take a deep breath because I rode something awesome that I couldn't quite get that first time.

Cypress humbled me, for sure. But now that I've gotten my first taste, I can't wait to go back after I've put in a few months of riding and practice. I'm so lucky that I have this place, these people, and the motivation to get better. It can only get better from here.

I Need a Vacation

2011-05-03T21:50:00.000-07:00

I need a vacation. People who know me well may would probably roll their eyes at that statement, but I don't think they'd really understand. I haven't taken a day off of work since I started my job back in October. This, of course, was on purpose so when the bike park finally opened I'd be able to spend some extra time in Whistler this summer. It probably seems like my life is kind of like a vacation, and sometimes it feels that way, but when I'm traveling for work I am busting my ass. It's usually 14 hour days out in the elements, and while it's fun, it takes a mental and physical toll. There were four solid weeks where I didn't even have a weekend. I felt frazzled, but grateful to get to experience such amazing things.

But, my time is coming. I'm needing a real couple of days out of the office, away from my laptop and out in the woods. I need fresh air without sitting in a booth. I need to ride my bike on my own schedule, not when there's a few minutes here and there. I need to do repeat laps, on repeat days, with my friends. I want to drink myself silly one night and sleep it off until noon the next day. I want to not have a care in the world other than figuring out what time I should ride my bike and what trail should I ride my bike on... Those are the kinds of concerns I'd welcome. Perhaps I could even fret over what jersey to wear and what pair of gloves to wear.

It's coming. It's coming soon. The bike park opens May 20th and I'm going to be there. I'm going to be excited that life will officially get fun again. My bank account will be drained. My sun tan will start to improve. I'll have bruises on my legs that make me look like I got hit by a train. My arms will tighten up, I'll have dirt in my hair and I CAN'T FREAKING WAIT. I'll take a few extra days to soak it all in. I'll smell the dirt a few extra times each day, and wave to a few extra people, and marvel at how amazingly beautiful Whistler is - as if I'd never been there before.

Vacation, soon you will be MINE.

Talking is Hard

2011-05-02T20:52:00.000-07:00

Sometimes talking is hard. I never thought I'd say that or think that, but I find that more and more I want to say things that I simply can not. It's quite a conundrum for someone who is extremely expressive, which is something I consider myself. I'm not being censored. No one is telling me what is right or what is wrong to say, it's simply limitations that I'm putting on myself. It's me having a conscience. And it totally sucks.

I've always prided myself on being very candid. Sometimes it gets me in trouble, and I usually don't care. This is a different limitation. It's bigger than me, and bigger than my selfishness. There are days when I trip over my words for hours dodging the right and wrong. I'm always honest, but it only means so much when there's so much more to be said. And all it can do is sit there in my throat, in my head, and maybe in my heart. Maybe.

How's that for cryptic?

RIH, Bin Laden

2011-05-01T21:18:00.000-07:00

The first song that comes to mind is, "America! Fuck, yah!" But that song is a joke, and it's awesome, and it's funny, and everything associated with it is funny (and actually kind of true, which makes it even funnier ). Apparently Bin Laden has been killed. This is a big day for us bullies. We got the bad guy. We got the scrawny dude who has managed to evade us for the last 10 years. We're the most powerful nation in the world and he was able to wiggle his way through caves, tunnels, and desert storms to escape capture. But, his luck ran out. High fives, America.

This is a good thing, right? It's a big day for us. Hell, it's been a big weekend. Will and Kate got hitched (and so did lots of winners in Time Square at the same time. How cute.), Bin Laden got gatted, and the sun was shining in Seattle. That is serious! Pigs must have been flying somewhere! My issue is this: does one man really make all the difference in the world or was this fight about revenge? It's not like he's the only guy east of the gulf stream that wants to see some heads roll in the states. We have So.Many.Enemies. We're at odds politically, financially, morally, racially, religiously. It doesn't end here. It just means we'll probably start looking for more people to "get."

Look, I'm not trying to poo-poo the capture/kill/victory. It's been a long time coming and something that I understand means a lot to a lot of people. To be candid, I was quite taken aback when I heard the news on TV this evening. I just don't understand how much of a difference this one capture will make. There are legions of people that want our heads. There are entire nations that feel the exact same way he did. What do we do about that?

It's interesting living in a country that has so many conflicting morals and personalities. Some people feel very strongly towards battle, war, and defence. Some are peace-mongers. Neither is probably right or wrong, but the vast differences mean that when people think of the United States as a whole, encompassing body, they're thinking incorrectly. We don't all feel one way. We don't all think one way. It's one of the better things about this country. We don't all agree. Democracy is a majority, not a rule or a law. The point I'm trying to make as we as a country are so spread apart in our feelings about issues that there is no end-all be-all for us. I think most people are probably stoked that he's dead, but I hope most people think about what it really means right now, and what it means for our future.

This is not over. It's just beginning.

Less Than a Month

2011-04-24T21:36:00.000-07:00

It's April 24th. I have less that one month, less than four weeks until the Whistler bike park opens. This signifies the beginning of pure and total happiness for me until the bike park shuts it's "doors" in early October. Life begins and ends during the season.

This means that rarely a weekend will go by without me throwing myself off of some obscure rock, jump, or ladder bridge attached to my bike (as small as they may be). This means long days in the warm Canadian sunshine. It means endless bottles of blue Powerade being consumed on the chairlift as I massage my forearms and get ready for the next run. This means staring at the winding lines of people (mostly men) and checking out their bikes, comparing them to ours, lusting after the ones that a really nice, and silently glad that ours our better than others. This means breakfast wraps from Moguls, and bike rides to the lakes with the dogs. This means buckets of booze at the GLC as we watch in anticipation for someone to tumble off of one of the drops (Hopefully it's not me this time. My shoulder still hurts 6+ months later). Nothing makes me feel like a summer day in the park. There's just something totally magical about being there. My face is locked in perma grin, and I've got dust stuck in the corners of my eyes, and dirt in my sun-bleached hair. The air is different. Excitement hides around every bend, jump, berm, rock and root. It really is the best thing ever.

This means being with my Seattle family - my friends from different walks of life that all have one thing in common, a love for riding bikes. Less than four weeks. I can not wait.

Coming Down From a Great High

2011-04-22T21:44:00.000-07:00

I get to travel a lot for work. I love it. It's fun and it's a great way to see the country. Sometimes it can be a drag to be gone so much, especially if I'm on the road alone. Sometimes traveling alone can be a breath of fresh air. I can eat what I want, when I want, stay up as late as I want and participate in activities when I want. It's great for the selfish me. It's not so great for the social me.

This past week I traveled to Monterey for the Sea Otter Classic bike event. Being a bit of a bike nerd I was super excited to meet up with friends old and new from around the country. I'd never been to Monterey before, and though it's not far from other parts of the state I've traveled to, it was definitely different in many ways. I was also excited about the crew I was traveling with. It was a solid group, and one I think worked really well together.

Every now and then I enjoy acting like I'm 12 again. Get a bunch of like-minded bike industry people together and this becomes a pretty easy feat. We managed to consume more Mexican food in 3 days than I have in the last month. That's saying something if you knew how much I frequented my local taco truck in Seattle. We also managed to attempt several eating challenges during dinner one night. Try to swallow a tablespoon of wasabi recently? Gulped down a heaping spoonful of cinnamon? Enjoyed a nice hot shot of sriracha sauce lately? How about sriracha mixed with wasabi? Yah, that happened, and it was hilarious. I only attempted the cinnamon challenge, and man, did I pay the price. I coughed my lungs up and my throat burned for an entire day afterwards. We even managed to bowl a bike down a bowling alley. I didn't have much to do with that other than a little encouragement, but damn was it funny. Ahhh. The life of a jackass.

I got a solid sun tan for my alabaster skin. Of course, it's all faded now, but I actually felt like my old Florida self there for a day or two. The weather was just perfection for the majority of the trip. Sunny and around 60 degrees, with a breeze to keep things cool. Rolling around town in rental cars in the sunshine is fun, but rolling around in rental cars going mach chicken is way more fun. We definitely got loose in the cars. Left hand turns proved to be a favorite. I need to come back in my next life as a rally car driver.

Monday took us to the quaint little town of Aptos. In the mountain biking world Aptos is infamous in the dirt jump circles. It's a plot of land, about an acre, next to a post office, so the jumps are fondly and creatively known as the Post Office Jumps. This is an area where dozens of amazing riders live and learn and hone in their craft of dirt jumping. The things these guys do is simply amazing. It's a place I've seen in so many videos, photos, and read about in dozens of magazines. I was lucky enough to get to walk the jumps back in November but hadn't seen anyone ride them yet. Monday we were treated to the post-Sea Otter jump jam at Post Office. Dozens of riders showed up in the cool, light rain to show off their skills. I was like a kid in a candy store watching. Some of the best riders in the world were there. It was such a treat to get to be a part of it, film it, live it and watch it all day long. It was total icing on an already awesome trip.

Monday night I was lamenting a bit that the trip was pretty much over. Never am I sad to go home, but I was a little sad this time. Every day was more fun than the previous. Every meal was delicious. Every drink, laugh, and gut busting g'd out turn was awesome. Even the hotels were comfy, and that rarely happens. I wish every trip could be as fun as this one. Though, if that were the case, I may never come home, and that would be no bueno. Regardless, this was a total pleasure all around. I've been home for four days now, and I'm having total Monterey withdrawals. Sigh. When is the next trip? I'm ready to roll.

Spring Has Arrived

2011-03-25T20:37:00.000-07:00

Spring is here! I never thought I'd be so excited for the snow to melt but I am. Melt, melt, melt, snow! It's time to bring on the big squishy bikes and the soft loamy trails, and the smell of wet moss-covered trees. To be fair, we never stopped riding bikes this winter, but we did slow a bit compared to last year. This was a colder winter. Our mountains got hammered with snow, and it's still a threat. But the air is decidedly warmer, the days noticeably longer and the grass a few shades greener.

I decided to wait until now to start writing again because things were moving too fast and I didn't have much time to sit and think and organize my brain. While I write plenty of scattered thoughts on here, I do like to have some kind of cohesion, so spring brings new life, new stories, and new inspiration to update this site.

I'm writing right now from the back of a friend's car. Portable wifi networks are amazing. We're on our way to Spokane for the first downhill mountain bike race of the season. Marinate on that for a second. I'm going to a downhill race. Me, who two years ago was writing about how I didn't think mountain biking was my thing. I didn't think I could really commit to it. I didn't think I'd ever be good enough. You've bared witness to the evolution of my feelings towards this sport. It caught on like a fever, and now, it's all I ever want to do. I was fortunate enough to get to do quite a bit of snowboarding this winter, and that actually sealed the deal for me- my bike is where I want to be.

I decided to throw my hat into the racing ring officially this year. I'm not kidding myself. I know I'm not fast, but I do think I'm a decent technical rider and am hoping that I'll feel more confident on some of the sketchier parts of the track than other riders. My ambition is not to win. My ambition is to be super stoked with my run, keep it upright, and to try to not finish last. I only have my friends to gauge myself against, and I ride with some ridiculously talented people. They're fast, they're fearless, and they're the best teachers I could ever ask for. Scott and I are making this trip with a friend and coworker who has raced many times. It'll be fun to watch how things are done and give it a shot on my own.

I love competition like Charlie Sheen loves coke. I haven't really competed in anything since college so I'm looking forward to that nervous time before my race. I'm looking forward to watching the other racers, learning from their lines and mistakes, and trying to apply it to my race runs. I plan to race a bit this year with my ultimate goal of competing in the Air Downhill during Crankworx at Whistler. It's a race down the most famous mountain bike trail in the world, and a run that I happen to love. To see what a World Cup caliber racer can do on A line, check out the video below. I'll go 1/2 as fast, but have just as much fun.

Here's to a good season!

The Worst Thing Ever

2011-01-31T22:41:00.000-08:00

Have you heard about this story yet? Warning: it's pretty much the most awful story you'll ever read and I'm so ashamed that it comes from Whistler. Granted, "Whistler" didn't do anything, it's the ass clowns who run this particular business. I can't even get through the whole thing without getting extremely upset. The long and the short of it is 100 PERFECTLY healthy, beautiful dogs were murdered "execution style" in Whistler after the Olympics. I.am.so.freaking.disgusted, saddened, upset, confused...

Confused because why and how could this have been the reasonable solution? Who is the person in charge that ordered this "cull?" You cull chickens, you don't cull dogs! I'd like to cull the person who made this decision. Honestly, Huskies are amazing creatures, and even if they were blind, had broken legs, or whatever there are millions of people in Canada and the USA who would take a Husky with open arms. Hell, I'd even consider it if I knew if it were a matter of life or death. It's just unreal that it came to this.

Someone mentioned to me today that it almost seems strange that people get so worked up when animals are killed whereas murderers of humans often get short sentences. It's because there's something so special and untouchable about innocent animals - especially ones that were well-trained, kind, and domesticated. These weren't wolves, these were talented animals! I'm so flabbergasted that I can't even put together coherent sentences about this. I just want to see the person who was in charge of this get some kind of punishment. If they let him/her go with a, "yah, that was a bad call. Don't do it again," slap on the wrist I'm going to absolutely go ape shit. I am going to track this person down myself. I am going to stalk them until I find them and then I am going to give them a ripe piece of my mind. It will involve screaming and the popping of blood vessels (my own, as I do not believe I am a violent person, but boy can I get pissed off), probably many horrible words, a lot of crying, a lot of hate collected from my many friends and people I've never met who share in my rage. This is wrong and there is NOTHING we can do to bring these dogs back. Nothing. They did nothing wrong and they paid the ultimate price.

Life is so unfair sometimes. It's completely fucked up.

Living Out of a Suitcase

2011-01-26T05:38:00.000-08:00

January brings a ton of travel for me. It's one of those bittersweet things. I love getting the chance to see new places, meet new people, and catch up with old friends around the country. At the same time, I'm the kind of person that gets homesick the minute I step into the cab on my way to the airport.

Last week I was down in the Lake Tahoe area. I was working an event called the Rahlves Banzai. It was a ski/snowboard cross style race from the peak of the Alpine Meadows ski resort down to the base. They haven't had snow in almost a month in Tahoe, so the course was steep, gnarly, and not soft. Not at all. I didn't get the chance to ride my snowboard, which is kind of a bummer when you take the time to pack and schlep it all the way down there. The event was busy, our booth had a fairly steady stream of traffic and there just wasn't enough time to get up on the hill.

The view from the hot tub during the day

The hotel where we stayed (I was there with a coworker) was sort of a dive, but it was in the most amazing location imaginable. We were situated in the small town of King's Beach on the north shore of the lake. The rooms were small, but had everything you needed, including a serious heater. The best part of the hotel was the hot tub. It was on the beach, literally about 20 feet from the lake. We made it home from the event in time to hit sunset most nights. When the air is cold and the sky is brushed with hot pink and orange clouds, the water flat, and the mountains covered in snow, it's a pretty incredible site to behold from a 103 degree tub. On our final night we decided we should see just how cold the lake was in mid-January. We hopped out of the hot tub and sprinted down to the lake, not stopping at the edge, but instead bolted full-tilt into the icy water. If I was tired before I jumped in, I was nothing but fully alert now. The water was chilling and took my breath away, but I actually thought it would be colder.

After dunking myself up to my head in the lake, I hurried back up to the hot tub and cannon-balled in. My whole body felt like it was being stabbed by pins and needles. It's such a crazy feeling to do that. I'm sure it's not the best thing, but it was fun and now I can say I jumped in Lake Tahoe in the dead of winter, on one of the most beautiful, starry nights I'd seen in a long time.

Today I'm off to Aspen. I'm fulfilling a bucket list item of going to the X Games. We've got a big booth there, and about 6 people will be working to staff the booth and film the event. We've got several of our athletes competing in slope style. I'm excited to see people that I've met over the course of the year from my last job and current one. I'm excited to see Susannah for a quick lunch at the Denver airport during my layover in a few hours. I'm excited to spend more time in the mountains. I'm excited to (hopefully) get a couple of runs in on my board. I'll miss Scott, Roscoe, and all 3 of the cats like crazy. I'll miss riding my big bike and my commutes to work, but this is going to be a fun trip...one that I hope will give me plenty to write about!

Photos, Trailers and Energy

2011-01-16T21:17:00.000-08:00

This past Saturday I went to an awesome event in Whistler. The Deep Winter Photo Challenge has been happening for the past five years. 6 photographers are chosen based on how well they shoot ski and snowboarding. These are world renowned photographers that you'll see in magazines like Powder, Skiing, Transworld, etc. The premises for the contest is that the photographers pick a small team of skiers and snowboarders to shoot over the course of 3 days (Wed-Fri). They have to shoot in bounds at Whistler Blackcomb and must follow all mountain rules and stay in bounds. On the fourth day (Saturday) they are to present a slide show to 1200 people and a panel of esteemed judges. $6,000 was on the line in the prize purse.

I'd heard about Deep Winter last year but hadn't paid much mind to it until they had the sister event, Deep Summer, in August. Deep Summer is the same idea, but photographed in the Whistler Mountain Bike Park. I'd been eagerly anticipating this show since the early winter days. I absolutely appreciate a good photograph, especially if it involves a sport and location I love.

We filed into the Ballroom at the Fairmont Chateau around 8pm in anticipation. The six shows were all absolutely stunning but two really stood out: Blake Jorgenson and Robin O'Neil, who happened to be the first female photographer invited to compete. I think she was definitely the sentimental favorite. What was cool was that all 6 shows were all very different from each other and each had their own strengths. Jorgenson's show gave me goosebumps. It was so extremely dramatic and dark. The shadows were prevalent, the mood was intense and the music used was a powerful dark instrumental. His show progressed slowly, giving each photograph ample time to be viewed. The two words that I can think best describe his show are heavy and awesome.

O'Neil's show was completely different. She told the story of two people and what their lives are like on the mountain, with a particular focus on a ski patroller and family life after you get off of the hill at night. Her transitions and editing were absolutely stunning. Color effects, and fades in her photographs would just draw you in like no one else managed to do. In the end she took second behind Jorgenson. Some people felt she deserved to win. I do believe Jorgenson deserved the win but it's almost a shame that there couldn't be a tie.

If these shows get posted online I'll be sure to share them with you. They're worth seeing. As the judges were deciding who should take home the novelty check, the audience was treated to an upcoming ski movie called, "All I Can." I'm a snowboarder, but I appreciate - so much - how incredible and awesome skiing is. In the last few years I've grown to see it as much as an art as a sport. The trailer for this movie will absolutely blow your mind. It's not big cliffs, and bro-brah bullshit. It's absolute art. Enjoy.

All.I.Can. Official Teaser from Sherpas Cinema on Vimeo.

Hello Nasty, Where You Been?

2011-01-12T20:32:00.000-08:00

There is nothing in the world more nostalgic to me than music. I've written about this a few times. I just love how hearing a song or an album or some kind of tune can take you back to a super memorable point in your life. Today while I was sitting at work I put on Hello Nasty by the Beastie Boys. It took me right back to 1998 and my freshmen year at the University of Washington.

When I first started at UW the Beastie Boys had just released Hello Nasty. I'd been a fan of the Beastie Boys for a long long time, but for some reason this album vaulted them into pure and total awesomeness for me. I remember the first time I put this in my blue Panasonic shockwave portable CD player on my walk from my apartment on 41st and Roosevelt to my classes at Kane hall. "Super Disco Breakin" got me into a quick pace in the rain. I remember hiking down to crew practice to "Remote Control," always seemingly on the stairs by the IMA each time that song started.

But, far and away the two songs from this album that stick out most in my min are "Body Movin" and "Puttin' Shame in Your Game." Body Movin was the quinticential party song. We were big partiers back in those days, and by partying I mean dancing. We'd dance in basements of houses of other rowers, we'd dance at the boat house, we'd dance in our apartment, we'd dance at gay bars on Capital Hill.

I remember one party in particular where there was a row of chairs pressed against a wall. My friend Mary and I were each on a chair dancing and we could see everyone in the party. The house was packed wall to wall with sweaty bodies bouncing to the beats. Hands in the air, hair flying around, bodies pressed together. Condensation had gathered on the windows and the yellow walls. I'm sure I was drunk off of something - most likely Absolut vodka. Mary and I each had on our "Get Naked" t shirts that we'd made. All of a sudden Body Movin' started pumping through the speakers. I remember us looking at each other, screaming and throwing our hands in the air. We yelled the lyrics to the people dancing below us on the ground. And they had their hands in the air and yelled them back. My face hurt from smiling. Sweaty as can be, we danced our asses off to that song. I don't think I'll ever forget those few minutes. We'd throw huge parites every weekend and dance dance dance, and the Beastie Boys, specifically that song, were always a crucial element to the fun.

"Puttin' Shame in Your Game" is a slower paced song that I can so vividly put a mental picture to. For those of you that went to UW you'll recall walking through Red Square, from the fountain, up past Suzallo library, and Odegard library. The red smooth bricks were slippery with rain. Not hard rain, but the soft misty rain of a Seattle spring day. The air is cool and damp and I've got competition on the mind. That's all school was: competition. Competition on the water, competition in class, competition for the guys...this song got me pumped up. One verse in particular always fired me up:

You're caught in a panic and it's rattled your brain
The selfish ways just can't maintain
But these are the breaks when you try and come fake
Don't come with the rhymes that you just half baked
I'm the Benihana chef on the SP12
I chop the fuck out the beats left on the shelf
You be like hello nasty where you been
It's time you brought the grimy beats out the dungeon
I jumped outside the house with my Walkman on
I get so hyped when I hear this song
It's gonna keep me happy like all day long
So go and talk shit cause it just makes me strong

Listening to this album makes me feel 18 again. It makes me excited for the weekends, for the fun that is to come. It makes me excited to race, to compete, to win. It gets me excited to see what the world has to offer. How appropriately titled it was... discovering the world... Hello Nasty!

2010... It Just Keeps Getting Better

2010-12-31T09:52:00.000-08:00

What a year. Everyone who writes a geeky blog like this one is probably either writing their "Farewell 2010" post right now, or thinking about what they want to put in it. As an avid user of Facebook I went back and got a random sampling of my status posts for 2010. It's pretty fun to see what was on my mind throughout the year. Facebook is super impulsive for me... which is good and bad because I rarely watch what I say there. Here's a sampling of my spur-of-the-moment brain dumps on Facebook.

This is fun for me to read because a few obvious things come out. In a nutshell, 2010 for me was the year of Whistler and the year of mountain bike. I couldn't be more pleased about these two things. I've always loved coming to Whistler (where I sit as I type this) but this year we really sealed the deal. I'm working on my 25% local status, and I'm not far off! And, the discovery of how much fun riding a mountain bike can be totally changed my life. I've written about this way too much on this blog, so I'll spare the same old muddy details. But let me just say that I've discovered a passion I didn't know I had, and it is the best and must frustrating challenge all rolled in to one. Every day on my bike is like a new day in school, except for so much fun. It's brought me new friends, new goals, better fitness, and more joy than I ever thought I could get out of a single sport. And, it's year round which is pretty much the best thing ever.

2010 also brought about a few changes in my life. I quit working at RealNetworks after 4 years and took a job in my dream field: action sports. I smile when I think about my job every single day. Sure, it can be stressful, but there's nothing I'd rather be doing for a living then working for a company that wants to help people have the most fun while out on their adventures. It fits me like a glove. Leaving Real was hard for one reason: the people. It's not easy to find a work family as fantastic as my Real family, but I think I'm on to something pretty good at Contour.

Musically, 2010 was a total banger. Fantastic new releases from so many good bands and so much new music discovered! I'd have to say that my favorite bands of this year were:

Silversun Pickups

Lady Gaga (Telephone is an AMAZING song)

Band of Horses

Broken Bells

The Glitch Mob

M.I.A.

Matson Jones

Metric

The music just keeps getting better, but what I think we're really lacking is really good new hard rock. I hope 2011 brings something new from Them Crooked Vultures, Woflmother and the likes.

My newest non-sport hobby of 2010 is making videos. I'm by no means a pro, but I think I'm getting the idea of how to make fun little videos. You can see some samples on my Vimeo page or my Contour page. This is one of my favorites:

It's been a good year. I've learned a lot, I've grown a lot and I've had more fun than one person should be allowed. I hope you all had a great 2010 and here's to an even better 2011. Make it kick ass!

Hey Obama - What Were You Thinking?

2010-12-28T09:45:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I stumbled upon an article about President Obama calling the owner of the Philadelphia Eagles NFL team and "praising" him for giving Michael Vick a second chance. I almost threw up in my mouth. Are you freaking kidding me? This is wrong in so so many ways.

First of all is the most obvious to me. Shouldn't Obama have bigger and more important things on his mind? Namely, how to get this country out of the freaking gutter (I still blame W for that, so don't think I'm going to go change my political convictions on you right now). I realize that people are doing better, but we're still in a heap of trouble. There are lots of talented, smart, hard-working people without jobs, and lots of ass clowns that ARE employed (like Michael Vick). We still have people dying for basically no reason in the middle east. We still pay too much for oil. We aren't strict enough on lazy people who suck taxpayer money out of the government by sitting around and doing nothing and being unhealthy. But, I digress... this Michael Vick thing strikes a nerve with me.

When you go to prison for a crime of a violent nature - and I don't care that it wasn't man vs. man - you shouldn't get slapped on the wrist with a platinum spoon when you get out. You should have to earn your way back into the world. You should have to face retribution. You should KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE TRAINED TO DIE. Just like what you did to those poor helpless animals that did nothing wrong in their entire lives but be born as pit bulls. I don't care if you're Michael Freaking Vick and you may be the best player in the NFL. You're a CRIMINAL, a soulless, ruthless, cold-blooded criminal and I have no tolerance for criminals in my world, especially ones who pray on innocent victims. Especially ones who take advantage of one of life's greatest gifts - animals. If you were a rapist, Michael Vick, I'd be saying the same thing. However, something tells me if you were a rapist you wouldn't be playing in the NFL, or at least you wouldn't be as welcomed into this world as you are now.

The fact that our president, our leader, our role model endorses this is complete horse shit. You're not saying it's OK to forgive, Obama. You're saying it's OK to get away with murder. It's ok because he's famous. It's OK because he's a "role model." It's OK because he's a winner. It's OK because he overcame the drama of being a marked man and has succeeded. BULL SHIT. It's called the guy has talent. Of course he's going to do well. Did you really think it was a good idea to support him? I'm absolutely flabbergasted. The author states that perhaps Obama's actions were politically motivated. I don't even know how to feel about that (or if I believe it). If so, then you've managed to alienate millions of Americans who think Vick sucks. Hope that works out well in Philly for you.

I can't even stomach this subject right now, but I'm curious as to your thoughts. Am I over-reacting? (If I am, I don't care. I'm not changing my mind.). Discuss.

Merry Christmas

2010-12-25T18:02:00.000-08:00

Scott and I made a short little video for the east coast family from the top of Mt. Baldy in Marin. :) Enjoy.

Merry Christmas From Marin from Lacy Kemp on Vimeo.

Time is Perception

2010-12-24T21:30:00.000-08:00

I had an interesting conversation tonight with one of Scott's neighbors from California. He's one of those mellow dudes who just seems to roll with the punches, never seems ruffled, never seems bothered. Kind of like how I think people should be. Just livin'.

We got to talking about time and how as you get older it just seems to go by so fast and you don't realize it until one day you wake up and you're wondering what happened to your youth? His point was that time is constant and the idea that time flies and the idea that it's wasted is totally a human concept. No one forced us to come up with a calendar, days, hours, minutes, seconds. We did that so we could keep our shit straight. So we had some sort of routine, some sort of regularity. We're so honed in to time as a rule, that we forget to consider time for what it really is: your one chance to really live. I don't want to ever forget that for the foreseeable future the sun will always rise. That's really all that should matter with regards to time. The little things shouldn't matter so much.

We're all here for a certain amount of time (unless science changes that..who knows). I've been so focused on perspective that I forgot about perception. People's perception of time can make a huge difference in how they live life. If you perceive that time flies you're either having a damn good time or you're working to hard. I've always been one who tries to stop and smell the roses (literally) and take time for what it is, live in the now and really try to enjoy every minute.

A Winter Solstice

2010-12-20T20:36:00.000-08:00

It's the winter solstice. It sounds mystical and cold and snowy. It's mostly all of those things for me, except that it's not snowy right now (at least, not in Seattle). The winter solstice is the shortest day of the year in terms of sunlight. It signifies the end of the long depressing nights and brings about the birth of the slightly brighter days. It ushers in winter and Christmas and the smell of pine and snowboard wax. It sparkles and shimmers and for some reason the moonlight dances more beautifully on this night than any other night.

It means that my bike rides will become a bit less lethal as the sun pokes above the horizon a little bit longer. It means that the resorts can finally start to welcome more snow and grow their snowpack. It means that we are truly "hard core" when we go on our mountain bike rides and there is snow on the ground. It means that Roscoe will be more excited than at any other time ever... because it might snow. The cats are snugglier than ever because it's cold. It gives me an excuse to drink loads of English Breakfast tea with milk and honey and a little bit of sugar. I want it to taste like candy.

The moon is bright and foggy and there is a thickness to the air. It's the winter air that smells so good. Firewood and cinnamon and candles and cranberry sauce. Take it all in.

Monday Handed Me Lemonade!

2010-12-13T21:45:00.000-08:00

Play this track while you read this post.

Today I was prepared to have a bad day. It was Monday, which sucks. I was no longer in Whistler, which sucks. It was supposed to piss rain all day which can sometimes suck, especially if it's warm outside like it is right now. Today was supposed to just be another stupid Monday.

But something happened. Monday decided to fight back against its stereotype, and dammit, Monday won!

When I first started work at RealNetworks 4+ years ago I was given a location with a simply stunning view of Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains. Even better, my neighbor at work was my good buddy Tiffany. It was great having a great view and a great officemate. I lost my view and went into a different office after awhile and I missed that view terribly. My current office space is about 4 blocks away from Real and faces out to the same view, but I wasn't sitting near a window. Until today. My desk was moved while I was out of town on Friday and low and behold I have another stunning view of Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains. It seriously made my day to watch the storm roll in today with my face pressed against the glass like a little kid.

Work was busy. I've got lots of stuff going on. Some projects are frustrating but some are amazing, like the footage I've been getting from B.C. Watching the magic that our cameras capture is truly a fun thing and I enjoy it so much that it keeps a smile on my face throughout the day. Even better, I listened to music that just rocked, and few things make my mood better than good music. Thank you, Metric.

As I was about to leave I checked outside at the weather. It was dumping rain. Like, biblical proportions of rain. Where's my ark?? I need to row home! I checked out the radar online and the data wasn't too pretty. No matter what I did I was going to get drenched. It was just a matter of finding the time where I'd get the least wet. I waited until almost 6 o'clock when the rain seemed to be at its lightest point for the rest of the night and ducked out. My pack was heavy. I had my laptop, hard drive and heavy clothes. I should have been miserable as the rain fell, but something inside me told me it was going to be a good ride.

My legs felt strong. There was zero wind. Suddenly the rain stopped. I saw stars and the moon and the evening turned into a warm, dark, and fast ride. I forgot about the weight of my pack as I passed rider after rider. I had my earphone (yes, single ear phone for all you Captain Safetys* out there) plugged in and my iPod on shuffle. It's strange how iPods can have "moods" sometimes. Today mine was feeling strong. Sometimes I love how competitive I am. Small things really fuel my fire. Today, my iPod was on point. Of the 3000+ songs I have on my phone, for some reason it chose to play only songs which make me want to mash my pedals as hard as possible. It played Silver Sun Pickups, Miike Snow, and best of all, it played Glitch Mob. Hills melted away. Miles melted away. My earphone pounded electronic beats into my ear. The stars shone brighter, I slashed my way through the biggest puddles I could find. The wind felt cool- felt good against my skin. I smiled the whole time.

Monday took the lemons and made some damn tasty lemonade.

Passion Breeds Satisfaction

2010-12-11T23:30:00.000-08:00

I'm in Whistler again right now. I'm up late working when I should be sleeping. But, I can't help it. I'm in love with my project.

One of the best parts about getting to spend time in Whistler (besides the fact that I'm obsessed with it) is that I get to meet so many interesting people. And, people in Whistler are different than anywhere else I've ever been. Perhaps any serious ski town is this way but there's a passion that runs through people's veins here, and it's infectious.

I was discussing this with my friend Jamie today. After reading this article in Pique Magazine, it got me to thinking, "what is more important...being happy or being secure, and can you have both?" The article talks about what it takes for people to live in Whistler. Some people sacrifice well-paying jobs only to wash dishes for the chance to live here, and they end up never leaving, much to the chagrin of their families who had higher career hopes for them. Whistler just takes your common sense and tosses it out the window. Because it's special. It's addicting. If you could bottle it up and sell it, you'd be raking in some serious coin.

How important is security if you've found your Oz? What if getting by on 25k a year ends up being ok? What if you work the 5am shift at the coffee shop in the village and are out by 1 or 2 and can ride the bike park until 8pm every single day? You may live with a house full of people and eat top ramen but you get in your 12 runs 7 days a week. My face would hurt from the perma-grin.

It's not just the young people doing this. There are people that have lived here for decades who work insanely hard for insanely little money. The ROI isn't there financially, but I don't think that's what they bank on. The ROI here is how much fun can I have today? How many hot laps can I fit in before my next shift? If that's the thing that stresses you out the most then, damn, life is good.

Winter Wonderland

2010-12-03T09:16:00.000-08:00

The five days I spent in Whistler last week were the best medicine possible. I'm telling you guys, there is nothing in the world that makes me happier than being in that town. Nothing. I could live in a tent and be the happiest person on the planet if it were a tent in Whistler. How do I make this happen?

I was on vacation while in Whistler, but had to do a little work too... not that this is a bad thing. Work for me these days is pretty insanely fun.

We had the opportunity to film some of our professional skiers while in town. Fortunately for them, I'm not nearly fast enough to hang around, so I passed off the filming duty to my good friend, Duncan, who is definitely fast enough to keep up with the little hellcats.

Here's his hard work come to life:

Whistler+Solo+Music+Snow+Freedom=StokedLacy

2010-11-28T21:35:00.000-08:00

Every now and then I get a little moody. Who doesn't? Even when I'm in Whistler my head can do some strange shit and put me in a sour mood. This happened to me yesterday. I should have been stoked. I should have been the happiest person on the planet. I was in my favorite town on the planet, with some of my favorite people, doing one of my favorite things, it was sunny, my body was feeling good, but for some reason I was just not feeling it. Weird, right?

I don't know what goes on and why I get a little bummed out sometimes. It's probably a million things rolled in to one and for whatever reason I decided to think about it while riding the gondola up Blackcomb or on my little hike to try to achieve a little bit of fresh snow. Whatever it was, it got me and it won for awhile. I had a little mini internal meltdown. I wanted to be alone. But how can you be alone in a town that's so small and so big all at once? How can you be alone when you're traveling with people and staying with friends and there is no personal space? I think this is when I hit the wall. I don't want to be rude and ask for some "me" time, because I'm here with a group and that's what it's about.

I got through my little bummer mood, but it did put a bit of a damper on my day. I needed something extra special today. I got it.

Scott had to head home to Seattle to go to work tomorrow but I have a few loose ends to wrap up in Whistler so I stayed up an extra day. My coworker that I'm here with wasn't in the mood to ski early today and my friend that I'm staying with had to work. This left me alone, and that was exactly what I needed. I headed up to the top of the Whistler gondola this morning with just my board and my earphones. I'd never snowboarded a day alone in my life, and I'd never ridden with music before. I can't believe what I've been missing. I also can't believe how much good music I have on my iPod.

Today was like the best medicine ever. The sun was shining, the crowds weren't super intense, and the snow (off the beaten path) was still soft. I went through dozens of songs and probably close to twenty runs on the hill, all on Whistler. I kept meaning to go to Blackcomb, but Whistler kept being fun and I kept wanting to try just one more thing. I cycled through The Shins, Radiohead, Band of Horses, Broken Bells, Lady Gaga, Lady Sovereign, Massive Attack, Alice in Videoland and so so many more bands...but the two that stuck out the most were a song from the old Romeo and Juliet remake called "I'm Kissing You" but Des'ree and "Damage Incorporated" by Metallica (you seriously can not have two more different kinds of music be melded together).

The Des'ree song is slow and intimate and beautiful... when it first came on my headphones I almost pushed it to the next song but something stopped me. The piano at the beginning was so pretty so I let it go. And as I glided down the run I kept looking out at the scenery and thinking about everything that I love about this town. And the music sort of flowed with my run. It was mellow and easy and comforting and it made me feel good. I found myself thinking it all tied together so nicely - basically because I'm weird and obsessed and perhaps in love with a place, and this song was my dedication to my special solo mission that I was having.

A couple hours later I was sitting on the Red chair heading up to the top again and Damage Incorporated came on. The sun had ducked behind the clouds but was partially peeking out just above the very peak of Whistler mountain. I thought about some of the things that had been bothering me...actually I thought about all of them... and the beginning of the song coupled with the immaculate scenery and the brisk air of the lift made me put things in to perspective a little bit. As soon as I got off the lift the song turned fast and aggressive and I wanted to match it so I rode as fast and hard as I could on my board. The next few songs were fast and it kept me going. I forgot for a little while about the gloomy things and focused on doing something that I love and having fun and putting everything together and it just totally changed everything and made me happy again.

I needed this. I needed this day to just do my thing. To be alone, and sulk and smile at nothing and sing at the top of my lungs when I was alone in the gondola. To think and breathe and not have to be anywhere on any one's time or schedule. I've always been the first to admit that I'm a bit selfish and having some time to do whatever I want whenever I want is paramount. Today was that time. It was perfect. I think I'm pretty good at staying optimistic about most things in life. But, everyone has days and times when they just feel a little off. If I could bottle up today and drink it the next time this happens then I'd never have a bad day again.

Happy Again...

2010-11-26T23:52:00.000-08:00

I'm in Whistler. I'm happy. No matter what happens while I'm in Whistler, I'm happy.

It's snowing, I'm with good company and I get to ride my snowboard. I'm happy.

The food has been better than normal, the views better than normal (which are still spectacular, even when they're normal). I'm happy.

The village looks like a winter wonderland. Trees are white with snow and speckled with

colored lights for the holiday season. People are walking around open-mouthed, staring at the splendor that is Whistler. I take pictures because it's prettier than I've ever seen it. I don't have my bike with me, but that's ok. I'm happy.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving in the USA, but the local pub still served turkey dinner to all of the transplants. Hockey and basketball and football were on TV. Roscoe has been burrowed in the snow for the past 2 days. Did I mention the company is good? I'm happy.

Tonight after dinner and drinks (I was the designated driver) the parking lot had a perfect

sheen of compact snow on it. I decided the conditions were ripe for donuts. I'd never done one before tonight. I asked my copilots in the car if that one SUV posted in the parking lot was a cop, they said no. So around and around and around we went.

I giggled the whole time, laughing harder than I'd laughed in awhile. It felt so good and it was so fun. to just get loose for a second. As soon as I pulled out of the parking lot the red and blue lights started to flash. That one car was a cop. First ticket ever.

Either way. I'm still happy.

Fun With Bikes

2010-11-22T21:04:00.000-08:00

Here are a couple short videos from our biking adventures as of late...

End of an Era

2010-11-18T19:59:00.000-08:00

Tonight was Jake Locker's last home game as a UW Husky. Aww man I'm crushed. I've only been paying attention to Washington football for the last 13 years but never has a player elicited so much devotion and hope from the fans as Locker.

There has been a lot of talk about whether or not he should have returned for his senior season or if he should have taken the money and run (to the NFL). I think the fact that he gave up potentially a ton of money to come back and finish what he started at UW shows so much character. He's not in it for the money (at least, not entirely), he's in it because he loves the game, he loves where he came from, and he appreciates his fans.

He was such an exciting player to watch. How many big white guys can run like that? He's got wheels, he's got size, he's got smarts. I hope, I so so hope, that he goes somewhere in the NFL where he can make a difference. He is a true class act.

I wish nothing but awesome for #1o. The fans of Washington will always appreciate him.

Farewell to a Legend

2010-11-15T20:05:00.000-08:00

When I was living in Florida it was all I could do to dream about leaving. I didn't enjoy living there, I didn't enjoy the heat, I didn't enjoy the stress I was dealing with. The one thing that I admired and loved was the water. I learned to appreciate just how small we really are - just mere ants on the surface of this great big earth. I can't count how many days or nights I would sit on the beach and just stare out at the great vast emptiness. I preferred days that were dark, windy, and stormy. This meant the waves might be up and the surfers would be out and something about watching the surfers tame one of the greatest forces on earth was just beyond intriguing to me.

I made it a habit to befriend surfers. Not because I thought they were cooler, but because I appreciated their talent. I didn't have it and I coveted it. They were strong and graceful and always looked so focused yet happy. If you're good friends with a surfer you know what I mean here..there's a zen that comes from the water. It's the same thing I experience when I'm in the mountains. It just puts you at peace and these guys were the picture of satisfaction. I appreciated that and would soak it in as often as possible.

When I moved to Seattle in 1998 I was a little fish in a big ocean. I didn't really know anyone, it was a whole different world, and I loved it. I loved diving in head first to the total unknown. But, I needed something to cling to that was familiar, so I subscribed to Surfer Magazine. I was 18 years old and read every single issue cover to cover for years. I never learned to surf but I learned how incredible the sport is to so many people. I would rent surfing movies and ride my longboard all around the neighborhood. I even got a tattoo of a wave on my back - it was the one thing I could decide that I truly loved. The ocean, the water, it gave me solace.

There was one surfer in particular that I enjoyed growing up with and his name was Andy Irons. He was just a few years older than I. He was from Hawaii and he was so so good. It felt like he was the only person who could put a dent in Kelly Slater's world dominance. He was so strong and competitive and yet so fluid in every movement.

Two weeks ago Andy Irons died. He was 32. It doesn't matter how he died or where he died... all that matters is that the world is a little sadder because of it. He was so young and so talented. His wife is 8 months due with their first child. It just tugs at your heart. His friends and family held a memorial for him this past weekend. It was so simple yet so beautiful and I wanted to share it.

Rest in peace, Andy. You are a legend.

Ode to Green Lake

2010-11-13T09:02:00.001-08:00

Before you read this post start playing the song above. I'll explain why below. However, ignore the stupid video and just read the post.

Everyone has a place in their hometown that feels special to them. My special place is Green Lake. I probably share this with thousands of other Seattlites, but I'm perfectly willing to share the love. Nestled smack in the middle of the north Seattle area, Green Lake is a picture perfect setting of everything that I love about the Northwest.

It's not a big lake... if you're ambitious you could swim across it. There are two tracks that run along side of the lake. The inside track is 2.7 miles. The outside track is 3.2. The inside track is most often used by walkers, families, dogs, roller bladers, long boarders - casual stuff. The outside, non-paved track is almost uniquely used by runners. When I was in college I ran this track almost every single day. After college I'd run it a few days a week and if I was feeling really good I'd do it twice. Actually, sitting here now makes me kind of want to try it twice.

The lake hosts the Green Lake Rowing club, Seattle's premiere (in my opinion) high school and masters rowing club. It's always been a wonder to me how they're so good when they can barely eek out a 1500m course. All they do all day long is row in circles. But they produce fine athletes and some great people. One of my best friend was a coxswain there. Thanks, GLC for my best friends, Mel.

The lake is sort of set in the middle of several neighborhoods: Wallingford to the south, Phinney Ridge to the west, and Maple Leaf to the north and east. These are some of the coveted spots to live in Seattle, mainly because of their proximity to the lake. Each neighborhood is on a hill and so all good things lead to the lake. It's always easy to get there, but it's never easy to leave.

On pretty much every morning and every evening the lake is a serene piece of glass, mirroring the bipolar Seattle sky. The reflections look like a Monet, if he only painted a bit clearer. For some reason when I think of Green Lake, the colors orange and pink pop into my mind - probably because I've spent so many early mornings or late nights sitting next to the water thinking about nothing. There's a particular dock that juts out into the lake about 100 feet. I used to go sit on the end of this dock for hours and listen to my headphones. I wouldn't do anything but sit there and stare at how pretty it was.

One song in particular comes to mind. It's called Alone by Moby. You're listening to it right now and I think it's just so beautiful and staring at the sun slowly sinking over the horizon and the colors work their way across the big round sky was one of my favorite things in life. I felt so completely at peace on that dock. I felt warm and happy and sad and loved and like my soul was just floating around the water like smoke moving to the music...slowly drifting. This song made me feel every emotion...it was like a cleanse to me. And as it goes on it gets a bit happier and happier but still so thoughtful and serene.

This lake was my home base for so many things. I'd study there in college. I'd drink at one of it's many bars after studying and subsequently forget everything that I'd taught myself. I'd take my longboard and skate around it for hours and feel the wind flow through my hair, all the while standing carelessly atop my longboard, surfing the path the entire way around. I've ridden my bike around it at night with no lights just to scare myself. I've slept on the banks of the lake when I felt like doing some urban camping. I've walked around it in tears, I've walked around it laughing. I've raced the clock, I've raced my friends, I've raced Duke, the golden retriever I used to live with. When Roscoe was hit by the car I'd take him down to the lake to waddle around in the water. The buoyancy seemed to feel good to him.

Last night I ran around the lake and the same thought came to me that has come to me so many times before: I love this lake. I love everything about it. There's one spot on the path in particular that always makes me feel so refreshed. It's just a small area where the tree foliage is so thick and the canopy hangs over the running path and for some reason I always stare up as I run through there. And no matter what color the leaves are, if its raining, sunny, dark, cloudy, or whatever - it looks so beautiful. The sunlight dances through the leaves. Or, if it's at night the leaves filter the street light to make everything look and feel surreal. Every single time I circumnavigate that lake I stare at this section of trees and it just takes me away. I thought about writing this post when I got to that point last night and was able to just get lost in the beauty of the setting. If I can't be in Whistler, this is a close second. I love it there.

I hope you all have some place close to your home that is as special to you as Green Lake is to me. It's just a simple little pond in theory, but it's so much more in reality - at least to me, and I'm pretty sure to thousands of my northwest neighbors.

Where to Go?

2010-11-06T00:11:00.000-07:00

I feel like I have so much to write about that I don't know where to start.

Things I'd like to discuss: Andy Irons, my weird world, my trip to California, and the Klunker race. I type these things so on days when I feel like I have nothing to write about I can come look at this post and think, "oh yah.. I do have stuff going on."

Sometimes it's hard to sort out what is important to me and what I'm just getting caught up on emotionally. They're often not the same thing but it's hard to tell them apart. What makes something emotional vs. important? I think the first time I ever remember realizing that my emotions were total bullshit was back in 8th grade. The movie Speed was out and I was having a serious crush on Keanu Reeves. I was hellbent, completely convinced that we were supposed to be together. I would cry when I'd realize that it wasn't going to happen. Ahh, the emotions of a 12 year old prepubescent girl. What was I to do?

Over the years I've somewhat learned what's real and what's purely emotional. But I still get caught up in things that weigh heavily on my heart that may have no resulting effect on my real life. I wish I could understand this. How do I learn to separate what's real and what's emotion-based? Are they always tied together? Can you have one without the other? Do I want to have one without the other? Sometimes I feel like my emotions are what provide the spice in life. If I didn't have such strong feelings towards so many different things would I lose my passion for all of those things? Would my heart literally ache when I think about how much I miss Whistler? Would I fear change? Would I think twice before attempting something new and scary on my bike? Would I care so god damn much about so many things?

Is it only me? Does this happen to anyone else?

It's funny. The original post I wrote for this somehow got deleted. I almost took it as a sign to not rewrite this post. Everything happens for a reason. I do believe that. So maybe my post was lost because this isn't the kind of crap I need to be putting out there. Regardless, my blog is often times like my journal, and if I can't be honest with myself (and really, not many people besides me read this) who can I be honest with?

Ode to Marge

2010-10-29T21:41:00.000-07:00

Today (east coast time) is my grandmother's 90th birthday. That's pretty incredible. That's 3 times as long as I've lived, which is really hard for me to fathom when I think about all of the crazy stuff I've done in my life. Thinking that I have 3 times the amount of time to do more crazy stuff is awesome! Yay for 90!

I thought I'd take a few minutes to tell you about Marge and why she deserves an ode on the good old blog. Marge is my mom's mom. My mom is the only daughter along with three boys. This means that Marge had to put up with my mom, who I'm certain was just as crazy as I (but in a less limb-breaking way), AND three boys to boot. The boys, aka, the uncles, (Hi. I know you're reading this curious and probably rolling your eyes) were probably a handful enough on their own. I can only imagine what my mom threw in the mix as they were all growing up together.

Marge raised her kids during some pretty crazy times. World War II was in full swing during the birth of her first two kids. Her husband was off in the war so she was flying solo with these crazy kids. The cool thing is that they are all super smart, really interesting, and have the best stories ever. I always say that people with cool childhood stories had cool moms. I think Marge was probably a pretty cool mom. After the kids grew up she started working at Rich's department store. She worked there for what seemed like forever. As someone with impeccable taste in clothes (Marge not me, who are you kidding?) this was a good thing.

I have very vivid memories of going to Marge's house when I was a little kid. They had this amazing place on Jet Ridge Drive in the most beautiful part of Atlanta. Big mansions would peak out behind the trees and ivied driveways in the neighborhood. The drive ways were often long and wandering. I would stare with my face pressed against the car windows as we drove past all of the grand houses. I think they took me on the scenic route to show me the best of the best. Their house was a brick red ranch style house on a big piece of property. The car port backed up to a big drop off below. Patrick and I would drop things to each other from the car port to the ground below. It felt like stories and stories of distance. Once inside you were welcomed by the smells of old polished wood and fresh food. The inside of the house always reminded me of what a perfect barn should look like. Shiny wood, beautiful shutters, massively high ceilings and windows that overlooked the sloping hillside that fell into the woods behind the house.

On the walls were big paintings of cows and chickens. Marge and Mac always loved cows and chickens, and I think they passed along that love to me. Everyone had their favorite painting. They had this great marble coffee table which had a book on it featuring magazine covers from around the world. I remember Patrick and I would pick through that book looking for photos that may be considered risque at the time. There were Playboy covers in the book and we always giggled when we found those. The inside of the living area often reminded me of an antique museum. There were dark sturdy, yet delicate fixtures scattered about the room. A desk with compartments that stashed all kinds of old trinkets and photos and photos and photos. The floor would creak a little bit with each step, but it just added to the charm of the house. There was a front door, but no one ever used it. All comings and goings were through the car port.

Patrick and I always stayed downstairs. It was an awesome space. It had two beds with electric blankets, a sofa bed AND a big luxury bathroom. We loved staying down there. We felt like it was our own little apartment, and we were given our first freedoms. Next to our room was the laundry room, and I was completely petrified of this room. It was dark and cold and dimly lit and I was sure that stuff had died in there. I avoided it at all costs.

Spending time in the Atlanta house was always a treat. Marge would take us shopping for new school clothes each year, and she always made sure we had the best clothes. In fact, I still wear clothes that she bought me in high school. Crazy, since that was over 12 years ago. Dinners at the Atlanta house were always great. The table was big and the candles were always lit. I always tried to get her to let me to put the candles out. Sometimes I got lucky. I remember it being warm and always smelling like Christmas. Marge was an amazing cook. She put the delicious touches to Southern cooking. And the ice cream. There was always always ice cream. Hagendaez, to be exact.

Marge would walk every morning by the Chatahoochie River. She'd meet up with her girlfriends and go walk the three miles along the trail. I remember going and not being able to keep up with her very well. She'd march along in her sweatsuit and I'd skip along the sides of the river kicking rocks and wondering how much further we had to go. At the end of the day we'd walk around her garden and water the plants with the hose and the special nozzle that acted like rain. She had beautiful impatiens. Often times while we'd water a chipmunk would scatter across the patio and I'd squeal about how cute it was. The amphitheatre nearby, Chastain park, would have evening concerts. We'd all sit outside and listen to the music as the sun set and the lightening bugs fluttered around.

I could go on and on and on about days and nights in the Atlanta house. But this post is about Marge and her birthday. I've learned a lot from Marge. She's a tough woman who doesn't take any crap from people. This is lesson number one. If her food isn't perfect she'll send it back. Why pay for food if it's not cooked to your liking? Good taste isn't genetic. Marge has great taste in everything. She's got a condo that looks like it fell out of a magazine. She's always had the most beautiful clothes and she's got the most gorgeous hair you've ever seen. I somehow missed this education, but I appreciate what she's got going on. You are well aware the instant you walk into her house that you're in the company of some fine artifacts. Everything just feels and smells authentic and beautiful. Marge taught me everything I know about table manners. I spent four years in cotillion growing up pretending to learn proper etiquette. But cotillion had nothing on Marge. She had us properly setting the table and folding our napkins and not having our elbows on the table when we were 3 years old. Marge could have run cotillion.

I'm not in Atlanta to celebrate her special day, but I'll be thinking about her all day long. She's an amazing woman who has been through a lot in her life. I only hope my life is half as exciting and fulfilling as Marge's life. She's come through some crazy times with grace and class - two things that are hard to come by these days.

Happy Birthday Marge! I hope it's as spectacular as you.

Politics, As Usual

2010-10-26T21:41:00.000-07:00

It's election season. This should be exciting. We have an opportunity to change stuff that matters. Instead, I find myself extraordinarily annoyed. Annoyed at Washington. Annoyed at our current system. Annoyed at how freaking childish politicians have become. Perhaps they've always been this way, but it seems to be getting worse each cycle.

What I'm specifically referring to (again) are political ads. I'm not just talking about the smear campaigns, either. I can not turn on my television without being literally bombarded with political ads for this candidate or that measure or some referendum. I am so insanely sick of it that it makes me not want to vote for anyone or anything. Am I the only one who feels this way? I doubt it. I want to send a giant, "F.U." to the politicians and lobbyists for ruining what is an important time. You waste time, money, paper, and brain cells on your childish crap ads that lie, are sneaky, and take up valuable beer commercial time.

Oh, and I almost forgot about the phone calls... that's right, the insanely annoying and obnoxious phone calls I get from prerecorded politicians. I've been getting so many that the other day my phone rang and I said out loud, "if this is a politician then I solemnly swear that I'm not going to vote for whomever it is." Guess who it was? Freaking Barack Obama. On voicemail. Should I feel special? I FEEL ANNOYED. Dear Mr. President: I'm an educated voting citizen. I'm up to date on current affairs. Do not call me. Ever again, unless you want to come hang out in Seattle and grab a cup of tea or perhaps learn how to snowboard. No more politics from you on my phone, you got that?

Same goes for you, Ms. Patty Murray. Just because I've donated to your campaign does not give you the right to call me and ask for MORE money. That's adding spammy insult to injury. I'm on the do not call list but that doesn't seem to matter to politicians. Perhaps they consider this community outreach. I call it interrupting dinner.

You all suck. Figure out a better way to market to me. Better yet, don't market to me. Market to the people who need to be educated on your causes and platforms, not the ones who have taken the time to learn and support you from the get go.

Can I Live Up to Winter?

2010-10-23T23:41:00.000-07:00

A weird dilemma has brewed itself into my brain. I'm a little freaked out about not being able to ride my big bike all winter long. This shouldn't be happening. I should be ecstatic that winter is coming. Snowboarding is my first outdoor love. It's where I'm at peace. It's what makes me happy. It is so fun and it's something that I can do with so many of my friends...something that mountain biking has cut me off from a bit in the last year.

Maybe I have an addictive personality. Maybe I find something and dive so fast and hard into it that I can't keep myself out of it until I'm burnt out. But, I never got burnt out on snowboarding. It just didn't snow so I had to do something else. Sitting still wasn't an option and riding my board on rocks and grass wasn't either. So the bike came in to play. We got close. We had fun. We learned how to get along pretty well. But in the back of my mind I kept wondering what would happen when the snow began to fall. Would I put the bike away for the winter and focus exclusively on the snowboard? Would I be able to manage both at once? Would I still be a good snowboarder? What if I don't live up to my old standards? Can I handle not being as good as I want to be? Is the answer to get back out and try harder - like I did with my bike - to regain my confidence on terrain that is unfamiliar to me?

I don't want to just ride in bounds at resorts. I want to explore. I need something to scratch my adventure itch. I want to venture in to deep powder fields, off piste, with steep fall lines, and potential consequences. I want bluebird days where I get sun burnt from the snow reflecting the sun's rays onto my face and sun glasses. I want to be cold on the way up and break a sweat on the way down. I want to turn around at the bottom of a run and be able to see my track the whole way down. I want to ride better than I've ever ridden before. But something is holding me back. I think it's totally mental and I have to figure out how to overcome this weird feeling.

I've never wanted to focus on more than one sport at a time. I picked something got to the level I wanted to achieve and moved on. Now I want...no I need to be a multi-sport athlete. I want to be good at everything. I'm obsessed with competing with myself. The only problem is, if I look at it that way I'm always going to lose. I have to learn to balance the awesome with the amazing. Why should this be a challenge? Shouldn't this just be the way it is? Focus only on fun things? That's a damn fine problem to have. I can't wait to tackle it. Bring on the snow....but not too low. I 'd love for some of my bike trails to hang out wit me a little bit too this winter.

Counterbalance Cycles: Boooo-urns

2010-10-19T20:03:00.000-07:00

I got a flat tire on my ride home last night. Bummer. I got my flat fixed at Elliot Bay Bikes. They fixed it quickly, but perhaps didn't check the tire thoroughly enough for hangers-on because I got another flat tire on my way to work this morning. Grrr. Flat tires annoy me because they're essentially easy to fix but I really struggle with them because of my mini weak hands. So, I typically pay someone else to do it for me.

I was annoyed that I got another flat after I had just gotten one fixed so I wanted to take it to a different shop to see if the results would be better. I got online and looked up Counterbalance Bikes, a shop that I knew existed at the base of Queen Anne Hill at one point. The website told me that the hours for the shop on QA were suitable for me, so on my lunch break I walked the .7 miles with my flat to get it fixed. Upon arrival at the address there was a dilapidated building at 2 W Roy Street. No bike shop. Confused, I walked the other way thinking I had the address wrong. Still not seeing a bike shop I pulled out my phone and Googled it. Sure enough it said I was at the right location. My GPS even agreed with me. WTF?

I called the number listed on their current website for their Queen Anne location. No ringing, just a busy tone. Again, WTF? I tried calling again, same result. So, I called their other location that I know for a fact still exists. Will answered the phone. I asked Will if he could please describe the location of their QA store. He told me that that location no longer existed. I hesitated, but clearly annoyed asked Will if he'd ever thought about removing information to the contrary from their website? He then told me that he wasn't in charge of the website (wrong answer, Will) but that he would be sure to tell someone to fix it. He then told me that when he interviewed for the job he, too, went to the defunct location thinking that was still in business. So I told Will that he surely must understand how pissed off I was because not only did I walk my flat tire all the way there but now I have to walk it all the way back and am missing valuable work time because of their laziness.

Look, I understand it's not cool to shoot the messenger, but that was bullshit. Counterbalance Bikes will never see a penny from me, and I tend to get spendy in bike shops. Why the lack of attention to their site? I hate to be the bearer of current events, kids, but we live in a digital world. If you can't figure it out, get someone else to figure it out for you. It's not rocket science, but it is good business. I wonder how many other people have gone there assuming there was still a shop? Hopefully they went somewhere else. I learned my lesson. You can't always believe what you read on the 'tubes.

My Friends

2010-10-15T23:08:00.001-07:00

And now a little mush for you.

I love my friends. I really do. I am so insanely lucky to have such amazing friends. I've always been lucky with my friends but the older I get the more I realize how truly fortunate I am. And the best part? I feel like the new friends I make are going to be just as incredible as the ones I've kept for almost 20 years.

I moved around a bit when I was younger, from school to school so I never got to keep that "kindergarten buddy." But I did manage to make some pretty stellar friends in 5th and 6th grade. And, lucky for me those girls and guys are still around and we're all still extremely close even though we live in the 4 corners of the country. It is pretty mind-boggling what technology has allowed us to do with staying in touch. I think I owe some of my friends some serious kudos. They have children and these big fulfilling lives and still manage to keep in touch. I don't have a responsibility like that (thank God) and I struggle to keep up. But they send me pictures of their kids, families and big events and it just makes me smile and think of the days when we'd have slumber parties at each other's houses and do each other's hair and lament about the lack of cute boys at Brookside.

As we got older we met more people and some of us stayed in touch while others went their separate ways. Such is the way of life. People change, interests change, friendships change. The ones that matter will always be there. High school ushered in a whole new world of people and interests. New loves, crushes, girlfriends and boyfriends, but still the core group remained close. College came and we all went to different schools. I moved to the west coast, most everyone else stayed east, with one other friend going to Colorado. We felt like pioneers. There had to be something more out there than Sarasota. There just had to be.

What I found when I moved to Seattle was another amazingly wonderful group of friends. I can't believe the luck I had growing up and then again when I got to Seattle. The people I met at UW through rowing were just awesome. What are the chances that 2 other coxswains would become 2 of my closest friends? We were competing for the same thing, but that didn't matter. We realized that there was something way more important than the 9th seat at stake. College passed and it was time for us all to head out in to the real world. What would it be like? How hard would it be to make friends wherever we roamed?

With each new job I had I was always astounded at how there was always someone awesome to call a friend. I feel like my friends are like sedimentary layers. You see one and it takes you back to a certain point in your life. There was certain music associated with certain people in certain places. Even the weather may have meant something. Jobs brought new friends. New hobbies brought new friends. Snowboarding and mountain biking each brought new sets of friends. And now I find myself feeling so lucky and surrounded by so many incredible friends.

I've never been a big family person. That's not to say I don't love or like my family, because I totally do (hell, they're the only people who read this blog. I better appreciate 'em!) but I've just never been one to be able to express myself totally honestly around my family. I don't know why, it's just the way it is. I think writing this stuff is the closest I'll ever get. But as I've grown older my friends have filled that gap for me. I sometimes think about what it would be like if I ever had to move away from Seattle. It's not like I'd miss my family any more than I already do. They're 3000+ miles away. But my friends- my friends are my world. They are absolutely everything to me. They are my fun, my motivation, my life, my hope, my support, my humor and my dreams. I would probably have a hard time being happy without them.

They are the closest thing to a local family I've got and I will never forget that. So to my friends who help me out every single day of my life in some way or another. Thank you. You're more appreciated than you'll ever possibly know, more appreciated than I could ever possibly express.

It's Over

2010-10-11T21:19:00.001-07:00

Fun is over. I'm depressed. The bike park is closed. I milked it for every possible second of fun I could. I logged 36 days and 256 runs. My body is wrecked. I've got scars and bruises and torn muscles and a really stiff neck. My bike is in shambles. In the last week I've had to purchase a new cassette, a new derailleur, new shifter cables, have my breaks bled, and drive train overhauled. There is dust and mud in places I didn't even know existed on my bike and on me. The sun set on the best 5.5 months I could have ever possibly have hoped to experience yesterday, and now I'm finding myself with a broken heart.

That may sound like overkill but I'm totally serious. I feel like I just got dumped. We were laughing about this yesterday on our way out of the village for the final time. Whistler broke up with me. It became cold so suddenly. "It's not you, it's me," it said matter-of-factly. It's time for Whistler to go back to its one true love: snow season. And, why should I be upset about that? Snowboarding was my first love. But I'm so confused now. This bike thing came in to my life and swept me off of my feet and made me so incredibly happy and now it's kind of gone. I still have 27 and Tokul and Bellingham, but who am I kidding? It's not the same. My face doesn't hurt from smiling too much after a long day of riding. I can no longer look forward to waking up to groggy bike friends at the Delta. I probably won't drink blue Powerade until next May. My arms will most certainly not keep the new found definition they've gained. My sun kissed cheeks will turn ivory yet again. I won't be surrounded by a sea of bike guys in horribly-colored Troy Lee jerseys and pants.

I'll miss the long summer days of riding until 8pm. I'll miss taking the dogs to the lake with Adrian and cheering every time Loo or Roscoe swims a bit. I'll miss my soy chais on my way to the chairlift. I'll miss the smell of freshly groomed dirt, and the fog drifting slowly in and out of the trees. I'll miss the agonizing decision of what trail to ride next - tech or jump? I'll miss Dirt Merchant, my new friends I made this year and chicken cranberry paninis from Moguls. I'll miss rallying on the Sea to Sky, passing people like they're standing still, but still scared to push it to the limits. I'll miss the views from the road. It's like looking out into Never Never Land. I'll miss the friendly staff at the hotel always wanting to chat about bikes, dogs, bears or the weather. I'll miss hot tub time with the "bar." I'll miss taking tons of absurd photos for no reason other than it's fun to take absurd photos. I'll miss the early morning silence of the village. But that smell - I will miss that smell the most. Fresh alpine air, laced with cedar and mountain mist. There is quite simply nothing else like it.

Yesterday while my bike was having some ad hoc maintenance I sat with a friend and watched the world go by. We drank coffee and didn't say much. The village is a fascinating social experiment. Young and old, rich and richer, ski bums, bike bums, eye candy, tight pants, furry boots, over-sized sun glasses- you name it. It exists there. Dogs of every shape, size and color pranced through the throngs of people. Couples holding hands, little kids bounding through the paths, teenagers wandering around aimlessly. French, Aussies, Americans, Canadians, Indian - a total melting pot that gives Manhattan a run for its money. It's all there, wrapped in the most mind boggling beauty of a mountain town you could possibly imagine.

I think the hardest thing for me is that I don't know that I can truly express my love for that place. It's something that leaves me almost speechless, or at least searching for the right words. It's like a long, lost love that I know I'll see again but it feels like forever until that day will come. Until then I will dream of what was and what will surely be the best summer ever - again, all the while trying to deal with my sad sad heart.

Advice for the Singles

2010-10-05T12:49:00.000-07:00

I like to write. Clearly. There are days when I think I could write a novel. There are days when I wish my article was the editorial feature in the paper. There are days when I wish I was Carrie Bradshaw (yes, I just admitted that). Then there are days where I wish I could give some valid advice to the boys and girls of the single world. Which is funny, as I haven't been single in 10 years. But I think because I am such a freakin' tom boy and I've got a ton of super rad friends that are in all various stages of love or lack thereof, that I pick up on some pretty interesting traits and ideas and quirks and whatnot.

So, here are a few tips, boys and girls.

Guys- give girls flowers for no reason at all. It's not rocket science, but it IS a nice thing to do. I like giving my friends flowers for random reasons. Having a bad day? Have some flowers. Feel sick to your stomach? Have some flowers. Is it raining outside? Have some flowers. You'd be amazed at how happy a simple bouquet of flowers can make a girl. Do it.

Ladies- buy the guy a drink. Don't be all stuck on tradition. Eff tradition. You've got a few bucks? Buy him a beer, or a GT or whatever. And get one for yourself while you're at it. Loosen up, talk about stuff, tell some jokes... which leads me to my next point...

Learn some jokes. Good ones, bad ones, whatever. Learn some jokes. Because after you've had the aforementioned beer and you have a little buzz you need to make this person laugh. And sometimes the best thing to laugh about is a really bad joke. Want one? My friend Evan tells this one all the time and it never ceases to make me laugh: What's brown and sticky? A stick. Seriously. That's the entire joke. Try it. You'll get a chuckle out of someone. If not, move on, because if they don't know how to laugh then you shouldn't waste your time with them. Serious people are boring.

Girls- learn how to do something active. Guys like active girls. Learn to snowboard, ski or use the nunchucks like a ninja. Girls who are confident in some kind of sport have guys tripping over them. Seriously. I've seen some pretty heinous women get some pretty hot men by being really good at something. And while the end goal shouldn't just be a "hot man" there's certainly nothing wrong with it. So, practice practice practice.

Find someone who shares common taste in music. While this may seem stupid, it's an easy thing to talk about. Plus, you'll learn about new music from them which is always awesome. Then you can go to shows with them, buy them that drink AND tell them jokes. You're now a perfect person to date. Don't like music? Then may God have mercy on your soul, sucka!

Sweet Sweet Seattle

2010-09-29T12:25:00.001-07:00

I feel like I've been cheating on Seattle with Whistler recently. Have no fear, Seattle. You are still my soul mate. Whistler's just been a nice change, that's all. We can all get along - you'll see. Once you have a bike park then maybe I'll hang around a bit more, but until then, I'm going to share my love with Big W.

But, in case you need some reassuring words I took a walk around your streets this morning and was reminded of why I love you so much. While I was meandering through your quiet morning streets I couldn't help but take in a deep breath and inhale the cool, moist salty air. Being so close to Elliot Bay provides me with just enough "salt water smell" to whet my palette for all things sea worthy. It's weird how humid it's been here lately. It curls my hair a bit. Makes it fluffy and airy. I feel like I just fell out of Charlie's Angels with my fluffy blond hair and my skinny jeans. I did forget to point my finger guns at people during my walk. Oops.

As I passed through Belltown I couldn't help but think of how different this part of city looks in the morning as opposed to an evening. Bar after bar I passed. Closed drapes, fliers from last night's party skipping about in the breeze. Tables and chairs are stacked upon each other waiting to be unstacked for the happy hour crowd at 4pm today. People seemed surprised by the cool morning. Women scurried along, frustrated by their now puffy hair. I was wearing the Seattle uniform: plaid shirt (but mine had ruffles), skinny jeans, vans and the cliched fleece. I saw several other people in Seattle staples: North Face jackets, sandals and socks (gross), and the ever present earth toned everything. It's just how we roll.

I headed south towards Pike Place market, a place that any local loves in theory, but hates in reality due to the constant barrage of tourists and gaping-mouth people that forget to watch where they're going. We're not so pleasant about that around here. Watch where you're going, pay attention, and we'll all get along. Anyways, if you're gonna go to the market, doing it on a dreary Seattle morning is the best time. Get there right when the stalls open. The vendors are happy to see you, they've got the freshest stock of everything, and you don't have to deal with all the hordes of idiots. As I perused the main aisle of the market I stopped to smell bouquet after bouquet of amazingly beautiful flowers. Fire orange dahlias and big puffy mums were prevalent all through the stalls. Glass blowers were stacking their newly articulated pieces in neat and tidy rows in their stalls. The produce vendors were stacking piles of apples into neat flat-topped pyramids. I couldn't resist the flower booths as I passed by one after another, so I plopped down an insanely small amount of money for a bouquet that would cost $100 if you ordered it online. It was stunning red and purple and orange dahlias.

As I started the walk back to work I looked out over Elliot Bay. It was gray as far as the eyes could see. Ferries shuttled to and from the various islands across the water. Sea gulls were squawking at the homeless people who were scrounging the parks for food. The birds seemed to stay still as they fought the headwind to the north. I carried my massive bouquet bundled in white butcher paper like a torch through the city. It glowed brighter than anything else in Seattle today. When I arrived back at my desk I felt refreshed, windblown and a little salty - like I took a little of the outside air inside with me. I didn't brush my Charlie's Angels hair. It felt good the way it was, like Seattle was my hair dresser for the day. I'm ok with that.

I Found the Secret to Life

2010-09-26T19:30:00.000-07:00

It's true. I've found the secret to life. I should sell it. I could make millions.It's probably something you already know, but I'm going to tell you anyways.

Remember when you were little? If you were like me you always thought growing up would be awesome. You'd be an adult. You wouldn't have to go to school anymore. You'd have the freedom to do whatever you want, whenever you want and you wouldn't have to do what your parents told you to do. You would be free. The world would be your oyster. Nothing could stop you. And then you grew up, got a little older, got a job, had a family and everything changed. Suddenly you were bogged down with responsibilities: work, bills, trying to stay in shape, kids, dinner, in-laws, and lots of important people to try to impress. Shit changed. It wasn't all roses. You weren't in charge of your destiny the way you thought you'd be when you were a little kid.

Suddenly you find yourself pining for the days of your youth. Long summer days of playing tag and football. Capturing lightening bugs and riding your bike and skinning your knees. Mud pies and playing with worms and wrestling with your dog were common activities. Swing sets, skateboarding and drawing pictures with your friends. Dancing the afternoon away, singing in the mirror with your hairbrush, listening to music and going exploring were the best ways to spend a Saturday afternoon. Swimming in lakes in the summers until you had to be dragged back to the car because you were too tired to walk. All of these things were common place for people around my age. They were fun. They were real. They were exhausting and a little bit filthy, but most of all, they were fun. And now you're all grown up and you just wish for one day you could be a kid again.

So, what's stopping you? I get comments from friends and co-workers and acquaintances who are familiar with my lifestyle all of the time about how I'm just a "big kid." I remind them of their 13 year old kids who do all of the above things (and probably spend a ton of time on computers too...we didn't have those when I was little, thank God). I put Goldfish crackers on my salad. I still wear Vans (I have 4 pairs and I swear they're the best shoes of all time). I still sing as loud as possible when I'm in my car alone. I ride my bike everywhere all the time. I snowboard as often as possible in the winter. I play with my favorite toys (video cameras, bikes, editing software, etc). I play with my dog in the mud. I stomp in puddles. I purposely ride my bike in the mud. I get giddy when I find big fat worms in my yard and I relocate them to my favorite plants to make the soil a little better. I still have an attachment to some of my stuffed animals. I love cookies and milk. I eat icing out of the container and cookie dough before it's cooked. I say, "dude" religiously. I try to race other people when I'm doing things. I love to giggle and gossip with my girlfriends. Fart jokes make me laugh. I have the sense of humor of a 14 year old boy. And all of this stuff MAKES. ME. SMILE. It makes me happy. It makes me feel young. This weekend is a perfect example of what makes me happy. I woke up on Saturday, drove to Bellingham, rode my mountain bike for a few hours and drove home. I went to an awesome concert with friends last night. This morning I slept in then went to the Seahawks game with another friend. Now I'm writing this post. It's a great balance of things that make me happy: sports, friends, writing, and activity.

I have a job. I work hard. I have responsibilities. I can't do whatever I want whenever I want, but if there's one thing I'm really good at, it's fitting in fun. I have a job that allows me to live the lifestyle I want to live. I can have fun every single day. I stay in shape by getting to work, which pays for the fun stuff. It's a balancing act that I blame on being a hard core Libra. I'm an adult and can put on my "adult/professional" face when I have to, and when it's appropriate, but you can bet your ass I'm going to be laughing and in my dirty jeans every other second of my life. Life is too short to not love what you're doing.

So there it is: just because you're "grown up" doesn't mean you have to stop enjoying life. Learn how to balance the things that make you truly happy with the things that allow you to have those experiences. It's not about money. It's not about material. It's about what you love, time management, and how crafty you can be with your resources. And it's something that everyone can have.

The XX

2010-09-26T19:06:00.000-07:00

Last night I had the awesome experience of seeing The XX live at the Paramount Theatre. The XX is a band a friend introduced me to a few months ago. It's what I call "sexy music." It's slow, sensual and as emo as it gets. It's a male bassist and vocalist, a female guitarist and vocalist and a guy on a sound machine which acts as their percussion. Three people. And it's amazing music.

The female vocalist, whose name I can't find anywhere, is absolutely amazing live. Her voice is beautiful on their self-titled album, but live she absolutely blew me away. It's funny because I totally judged a book by its cover. She doesn't really look like a musician. I know that's completely unfair, but she doesn't. She looks like an artist - a dramatic one at that, so she plays that part well. But she comes off dark and quiet and brooding, just like their music. But when she sings she sounds like (major cliche here) an angel. Her voice is deep and breathy and she hits her notes with absolute perfection.

The ensemble, though small, creates powerful songs that hit at your core. The bass lines are long and dark and very deep. The guitar is surf-like, and adds a bit of life to the moody music. The sound machine pulls everything together. I've never really been fond of them before but it totally works with this band. I tried finding a good live video to share, but I couldn't find anything with decent sound quality. Instead I'll share my favorite of their studio release videos. I think this is a pretty cool video and the song is pretty rad as well.

Ah! Wait one second!! I found live performance of my favorite song, "Infinity." Beautiful. What do you think?

My Brain Hurts

2010-09-25T18:31:00.000-07:00

Life is crazy. You think you've got everything figured out one day and the next it's like the text book is suddenly written in a foreign language. How do you navigate these circumstances? They're not necessarily bad, but they sure as hell are unexpected. It's like riding your bike down a new trail and not knowing what's around the next turn and being caught off guard. Sometimes you'll go over your bars, sometimes you'll huck to flat, and sometimes you'll pull off the craziest stunt you've never seen, just because you know how to roll with the punches.

I want to be one of those people that will always land with the rubber side down, both on a bike and in life. I know that it's impossible to never screw up, but I want to make sure I come out of whatever I get myself in to a better person. I think that's a fair way to look at obstacles. I haven't always been able to do this but I think as each day goes by I'm learning my limits: what works, what doesn't, when to push the envelope, and when to cave.

Conceding is something that does not come easy for me. I can't stand idly by and let life do it's thing without having a chat with it first. Some people know when to back off. I'm not there yet, and I'm not sure if I ever will be, but knowing that I can at least recognize when something is amiss is comforting. Just because I can concede, does not mean I will. It doesn't mean I have to and it doesn't mean I should. It just means it's time to re-examine whatever is going on and figure out what to do next.

Life is cool like that. Jump, drop, berm, or gap - you may not know what's coming next, but being able to handle the unknown is pretty damned fun.

You Must Listen to Band of Horses

2010-09-23T16:17:00.001-07:00

I'm in a musical mood this week. Perhaps it's because I'm seeing The XX this weekend and I CAN NOT WAIT. But as I'm coasting through life occasionally a band will stick out and become my latest addiction. Band of Horses is one of those groups.

This isn't a new thing for me. But, I'm also not an early adopter. It took awhile before I understood what was so good. It was a mountain bike video (of course) of a trials rider and he used the song The Funeral in his video and it was so beautiful that I had to watch the video over and over again. Personally, trials riding isn't that interesting to me but the song was so good that I watched that video a lot.

I'm not sure what it is that struck me about this band. Patrick has been listening to them for years and even knows their second vocalist quite well. Maybe it was the lyrics. Maybe it was the

harmonizing of the vocals, or the twangy guitars, or the fact that they sing about real things that real people have dealt with. Maybe it's that it's a little slower and a little bit more lovely than most other music I listen to. For instance their track titled, "Marry Song" isn't anything spectacular on the surface. It's a slow meander through a story of love. For some reason when I hear this song everything turns green in my head. I see green grass and yellow daises and hills - something out of Oz. It smells like spring and there are rope swings and gentle breezes flowing through the soft green hills.

I think that's what I love most about BOH. The songs conjure up the most beautiful imagery, and in some cases I feel like I can imagine movie scenes for these songs - scenes from movies that have yet to be made. Scenes from movies that only exist in my mind. Something I do a lot during my alone time is think about certain situations in my life and try to figure out what song would best fit that scene if it were a movie. Almost every BOH song is riddled with description. I love that. It's not just saying, "I love you," it's saying where you were loved and what the air smelled like and what exactly was going through your mind when this was happening. It takes a typical song and pushes it to the next level.

Listen to "Factory." (I highly recommend listening to the studio produced version if you can find it. The entire ensemble is just amazing.) It's just the most beautiful music, and you can imagine exactly what's happening. The music is almost painful it's so beautiful. It's heartbreaking as much as it is hopeful. I can picture so many times in my life where I would have fallen asleep listening to this song, way too lost in my own head. There are songs that you like and songs that you love because they just mean something. "Factory" is one of those songs to me. It's just flawless. I can listen to it 10 times in a row, belt out every word, feel sorry for myself and then feel better because that's what happens when you finish listening to it.

The last song I'll call out individually is, "I go to the Barn Because I Like the." It's another amazing slow song telling a story of painful love. It's another song where you can picture the movie, the scenery, the smells, the emotions, and everything happening in slow motion. I want someone to feel this way about me and write a song about me that has this kind of depth. It's such a simple song but it runs so deep and it flows perfectly -like a creek kissing the tops of rocks in the moonlight. I know, I know...enough with the bullshit imagery. But I can't help it. It's just what happens when you keep listening. Try it. You'll see.

I know - different strokes for different folks, but you can't deny a beautiful song when you hear one.

Soundtrack to My Life: Part 1

2010-09-22T14:00:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that I'm super passionate about music. I can not go an hour, much less a day without an infusion of music in my life. It's amazing what emotions can be pulled from songs - memories, good feelings, bad feelings, love, disdain, curiosity - too many to name.

It's amazing how one song can change the course of your day or the course of your thoughts. I'm not even a musician. I love to sing, but I'm not very good. I can't play guitar. I can't drum (though one day I will learn). I can't even dance that well. But I can FEEL. And all you need to be an audiophile is the ability to feel music. It's a drug unlike anything else. And it's totally controllable. If I'm having a bad day I know exactly what to listen to to make me feel a little better. If I'm feeling moody and need to get out some aggression, I know exactly what is going to make me scream, pedal harder, run faster. If I'm feeling nostalgic, I know exactly what songs to associate to certain memories. It's almost like you create a soundtrack for life. How awesome is that?

My soundtrack would include thousands of songs, but a few are total standouts.

Air Supply's Out of Nothing at All - I can vividly remember being REALLY little and listening to this tape until I ruined it. This was my first concert and whenever I hear this song I am taken back to my big white cast iron bed on Long Leaf Lane in Virgina trying to fall asleep at night, but preferring instead to belt out this song.

Midnight Oil's Beds Are Burning - Diesel and Dust, the album from which this song originated was the very first cassette tape I ever bought. I think I was seven at the time. I bought the alum at Turtles Records in Atlanta with my brother and my grandfather, Mac. Patrick and I listened to this album so much. It's an extremely political album but I didn't know that until much later in life. I just liked dancing to this song and jumping from bed to bed over and over again.

Billy Joel's For the Longest Time - I don't even really remember why this song was so important I just remember singing it with my mom all the time when I was little. Mom, do you remember?

Def Leppard's Pour Some Sugar on Me - I'm not sure how old I was when this video first came on MTV, but I remember being completely enamored with Joe Elliot and his torn to shreds stonewashed jeans. He epitomized sexy (when you're an 8 year old and you don't know what the hell you're talking about anyways) and I loved the line "Red light, yellow light, green light, GO!" It reminded me of a game we'd play in school. I had no idea what he was talking about when he was asking his girl to pour some sugar on him. I thought it sounded rather sticky. Regardless, that song was awesome and is my preferred karaoke tune to this day.

George Thorogood's Bad to the Bone - When I was growing up I'd spend summers with my aunt and uncle in Little Mountain, South Carolina. Uncle Art owned a motorcycle repair shop and he drove a big GMC Sierra pickup truck. He was the coolest person on the planet. Wait- he's still the coolest person on the planet. When we'd drive around Columbia he'd play his George Thorogood tape. I vividly remember hearing "Bad to the Bone" and wondering what was wrong with Thorogood's voice. It sounded like someones vocal chords had met a cheese grater. But, to this day, every time I hear that song I think about sitting on that big bench seat, dogs in the back of the truck, heading to the motorcycle shop.

That's it for part 1. Who knows when part 2 will come to me... What songs remind you of being little?

What's in a Number?

2010-09-16T10:45:00.001-07:00

I'm turning 30 in 2 weeks. I've never cared before, and I suppose I don't really care now, but I can't help thinking that "thirty" sounds really old. Maybe it's because I feel 15. I act like I'm 15. I have energy like I'm 12. I guess the only bummer part is that I probably look my age. But I'm pretty sure I'd win in a contest of rad against lots of other 30 year olds out there (except all of my close friends. They're super cool and would win too.)

But seriously, thirty is crazy. When I was little, people who were thirty were OLD. Old as the hills. They had wrinkles and gray hair and they smelled like old people. They couldn't beat me in a foot race and they always wanted to watch the news. I could never figure out why anyone would want to watch the news when there were genuinely good shows on TV like Alvin and the Chipmunks, MTV (when they played music), and General Hospital. I was obsessed with GH in middle school. What the hell was wrong with me? And old people did boring stuff like sit in bars and jogged and read the New Yorker and the Wall Street Journal. Why waste your mind on things like that when there were good things to read such as Christopher Pike books, Seventeen Magazine, and the sports page?

And here I am. Staring thirty in the face. Wondering where all my young years went. And then I remember- they went to a lot of good shit. Hundreds of days of snowboarding, endless nights dancing with friends in college, long boarding sessions that would start out at twilight and end in the dawn as we'd watch the sun rise over the Montlake cut. Long weekends camping in the rainy mountains, only to wake up to soggy pillows, luke-warm hot chocolate and the best smells the earth could ever provide. Bridge jumping, going to concerts, professing my undying love for Thom Yorke every time I'd get the chance to hear him sing, then changing my mind and remembering that Dave Grohl was my #1. Tens of thousands of miles on my road bikes, to Portland a few times, all around the lakes, to work every single day. Hundreds of miles of running around Green Lake, only to finish with a margarita and some tacos. Endless journeys to find the best skate parks the PacNW has to offer and always trying to get the best photos of the boys on the BMX bikes. Ferry rides to Kingston, road trips to Marin, dozens and dozens and dozens of trips to Whistler. Finally learning to ride my mountain bike after years of not caring/not wanting to.

That's not a bad list. And like I said, I feel 15 so I've got a lot of time left before I end up in that final wheelchair. After all, it's just a number right?

Whistler + bikes = Happy Me!

2010-09-14T14:31:00.000-07:00

In case you forgot I am in love with Whistler. LOVE. True passionate undying love.

Here's why.

Whistler Dirt Merchant/A Line Helmet cam from Lacy Kemp on Vimeo.

Smear Campaigns Should be Banned

2010-09-08T20:08:00.000-07:00

Wow. 2 political posts in one day! I should be fired. Instead I'm going to talk about something that irks me to no end: political smear campaigns. I absolutely loathe this practice. Does anyone know when it started? The earliest example I could find was from the 1960s when Ralph Nader was campaigning for car safety and darling GM spearheaded a smear campaign against him. Think about that before you buy your next Chevy.

As elections are now seemingly held every other month commercials for politicians are on TV all the time. I think the first time I really noticed how obnoxious smear campaigns were was during the election where Gore actually won but Bush knew some double secret handshakes and ended up with the "W." (Get it? W?) I remember seeing ads, though they don't come to mind right now, that were a bit on the shady side. As the years have progressed the ads have gotten worse and worse and worse. I swear, I'm tempted to not vote for any jackass with the audacity to sponsor one of these ads.

Here's an example. Patty Murray has been in the Senate as a Washington State Democrat forever. She does a good job. I vote for her and I contribute to her campaign. But seeing this ad made my skin crawl. Patty, see my previous post on the Koran and how I feel about treating people like crap. You fail and you may lose my vote. But fear not. Dino Rossi is no better, I just couldn't find one of his stupid ads online. Probably because no one cares enough to upload them...

Paul Akers is a Republican running for Senate in Washington state. I'm as blue as they come but Paul gets a high five for me on this ad. It tells you what he wants to do and not what the other people have screwed up. Why can't more people have ads like this?

I know each politician has the ads that tout what they want to do. But we need to see more. More of what YOUR platform stands for and not what you think the other guy sucks at.

Tell you what - maybe one day I'll run for office. And, if I'm elected I'll outlaw this kind of practice. I'm seriously so sick of such nonsense from our "leaders." If you can't act more grown up than Nelson from the Simpsons I don't think any of you should be in office.

EXCITING UPDATE! I did find the single ad that makes me want to throw my laptop through my television. This anti-Patty Murray ad is so obscenely over the top I just want to vomit. Watch and be annoyed.

The Koran Controversy

2010-09-08T09:25:00.000-07:00

Please tell me this: in what world is it OK to treat people the way you think some of them may treat you? Tell me? Lala land? What is wrong with this congregation in Gainesville! It's asinine that Pastor Terry Jones thinks this is somehow justified and that God wants this.

Look, I tend to stay away from religion on this blog because I consider myself pretty agnostic. I'm all about loving what you've got, giving back to the earth, and making shit happen. Perhaps there's some sort of higher power but who am I to say what it is and who should or shouldn't worship it. It's not my business what the rest of the world wants to believe in. What is my business is how piss-poorly it reflects on the rest of the country when a small group of small-minded people decide to take matters of faith and blow it way out of proportion, literally.

Can any of my friends -left/right/religious/agnostic/atheist/satanic/whatever/ please tell me how or why this makes any sense? To me this argument of burning the Koran because Islam is bad and they've done mean things to "us" is akin to saying, "I'm so pissed I lost my baseball game last night that I'm going to go over to the other team's clubhouse and steal all of their equipment and spit on their trophy." It is SO CHILDISH, absurd and completely without merit or logic that I'm ashamed to share soil with this group. I really am.

The angry person in me wants to tell them to get on a boat and float away. Don't associate with the rest of this country. You're trash. You're an embarrassment and everything we're TRYING to overcome. That's what I WANT to say. But what we as a nation should say is, "Where did we go wrong? How can we fix this?" Think about it. Everyone is entitled to their opinions. But somehow this group got lost. Somehow they crossed the line between opinion and actions, where those actions are just plain hurtful. Spiting people just because you can isn't American. It's bullying.

How do we fix this? How do we educate people? How can we give them the information they need to not take such drastic and hurtful actions? Am I just being a "liberal sissy" as I've been called before? No. It's not about being a sissy it's about right and wrong and knowing how to control your emotions. What good is going to come out of this? Can anyone explain this to me?

I understand that some people can get carried away with thoughts and feelings (guilty). But doing mean things for the sake of doing it and trying to make a point isn't right. It's cowardly. We are so frowned upon for being such a hodgepodge of ideas, thoughts and disciplines. It's sad that this is seen as a negative because it's one of the great things about this country. You can be who you want to be and feel what you want to feel. I just wish we could do all of this without all of the negative associations that are driven from these hateful campaigns. I don't have the answers, I'm just wishing the rest of the world could see that we're not all like this. It's frustrating.

Solo Mission

2010-09-06T20:39:00.000-07:00

Today I decided to go on a mountain bike ride by myself for the first time. This may sound absurd as I'm capable of handling things on my own, but for some reason I'd never ridden my mountain bike on a "real" ride by myself. I'm scared of getting hurt. I'm scared of my bike breaking and me not knowing how to fix it. I'm just scared of not doing something right.

But today I decided to give it a whirl. Scott rode by himself too while I went to lunch with a friend. So I figured I probably should get in one more ride before the long weekend was over. I packed up the dogs (we're dog sitting for Roscoe's girlfriend, Luca this weekend), my bike and a change of clothes and headed out to my favorite local trail, which I actually just learned to ride top to bottom a few weeks ago. It felt risky because there are a few places where I *could* get pretty hurt. The scardy cat in me said to do the easier trail. The mountain biker in me said to have confidence and ride like I know how to ride and I'd probably be ok. Plus, I'd have the dogs there to lick my wounds.

So, the dogs and I arrived and unpacked the bike and started our hike to the top. It was gray and cool, probably about 55 degrees. A perfect Seattle day. As we made our way to the lower section of the fire road the skies started to mist - I call it Seattle's moisturizer. It makes your skin feel wonderful and it's the most gentle mist in the world. The veggies at the grocery store are jealous of Seattle's gentle mist. As we ascended I got warmer and warmer. Seattle knows me well enough to know I do not like being warm so it started to rain a bit harder as I got warmer. I enjoyed not hearing anything besides the rain on the leaves and the pitter patter of the dogs trotting beside me with steam clouds puffing out of their mouths with their escaping breath.

A rain drop would occasionally find its way into my mouth and to my surprise it tasted like sweat. It felt too cool to sweat, but there was no doubt that I was getting warmer and warmer. Higher and higher we climbed. We saw slugs and squirrels and lots of fog. We were in the clouds and stomping through puddles that had formed on the old logging road. The dogs were chasing butterflies and mysterious noises in the woods. I kept thinking of how good the forest smelled.

Finally we arrived to the top and made our way into the woods. The canopy of thick green cedars made a decent ceiling. The dirt was loamy and soft - not muddy at all. The ferns were gleaming with fresh rain and greener than I'd seen them in some time. The dogs stared at me with long tongues and we shared some water from my hydration pack. I finished suiting up and told the dogs it was time to head down.

Normally when I ride with other people I talk to myself in my head. But since I was along with the dogs I found myself conversing the entire run with the dogs or with no one at all. Roscoe jumped a big double and I gave him a high 5. I won't even hit that jump and he sailed right over it. Luca, with her brindle coat blends in with the woods better than any creature could ever hope. She liked popping out of the woods around turns to surprise me and say hi with a wet brush against my leg. Roscoe likes to run right on my rear wheel. I can feel his hot breath on my leg and hear him panting the whole way down. I kept instructing myself to lean into the next turn and try to jump the upcoming clump of roots so I wouldn't slide and fall on them.

The rain was falling harder and harder and soon the canopy started seeping the way an old worn out tent would. Drips found their way to my hands and the dogs were spiky-haired from the moisture. My shirt was cool on my skin from the rain. It was like a natural air conditioner. Finally we reached my favorite part of the trail that I love to ride in one swoop. A drop, to a sharp left hand turn to a pile of logs to roll down to a small step down to a jump over a small gap and a log to a short steep rock roll. I rode through this section as fast as I could telling myself which line to take. As I made my way through each obstacle I'd tell the dogs that we were doing great and they would wag their tails in agreement.

Finally we reached the bottom of the trail. We were all steaming from the heat we'd generated. I looked around at the tall trees and green ceiling. It is so beautiful in the woods. The dogs and I shared some more water and slowly made our way back to the car, stopping to look at slugs and splash in the puddles.

It was a good first solo mission. Sometimes all it takes is a little alone time to realize how good things are. This was one of those times. While I definitely enjoy the company and camaraderie of riding with friends, it's good to know that the forest will keep me company should I ever feel the need to venture out alone again.

Farewell Summer

2010-09-04T10:20:00.000-07:00

As an adult I've never liked summer. I blame Florida for this. Growing up in Florida everything was hot and sunny. Every day. Day after day after day. We'd get some really incredible storms on occasion but 95% of the time it was hot. Sticky. Way too bright. I learned to loathe this weather. It made for an uncanny amount of showering or dipping in the Gulf to try to stay somewhat decent smelling. Either way, it was annoying and synonymous with stress.

The weather in Seattle is one of the main reasons I wanted to move here. I love the cooler temperatures. I love the rain, the mist, the not-so-bright skies. And on days when it IS sunny, there is simply no place like Seattle. It's beautiful. Our buildings are perpetually shiny due to constant washing from the weather. Our greens are a more brilliant green than you will find anywhere else due to nature's sprinklers. The city just feels cleaner than other metropolitan areas And, venture 20 minutes east of Seattle and you've got big rolling foothills bowing down to the towering mountains of the Cascades.

Summer in Seattle has always been a bit of a mixed bag for me. The sun is shining so it is really beautiful, but the snow is gone, it's kind of warm (80s usually) and I'm bored. Summer activities in recent years have included swimming and riding my road bike. Both are fun, but neither gives me the satisfaction of snowboarding. There's something incredibly free about being on a snowboard. It's me and the board and the mountain. I pick my line, learn to carve, learn to respect the terrain and get better. It's been my favorite activity of my life and summer means I can't do it anymore. So, while I enjoy the nice weather, the longer days and the comfortable(ish) temperatures, I'm kind of bored.

Until last year.

When I finally decided to put forth the time, effort and money to get into mountain biking everything changed. I started to see summer in a different way. Suddenly it wasn't six months until the passes opened for snowboarding it was, "who wants to go ride bikes in Whistler this weekend?" It became a new hobby and one that I felt held potential for me. If you've been reading this blog long enough you'll know of my battles with this bike. I've struggled seriously to get in to this sport. I've struggled to get any better and commit the time it takes. By getting a bike that actually fits me and that feels good under my ass I've been able to progress farther than I ever thought possible. Last summer taught me that there was a light at the other side of the calendar.

So as last summer turned in to fall I kept riding my big bike. I kept pushing up fire roads and riding trails that were way above my ability. I was riding with people who were all SO good that I felt like an anchor weight on their speed boat. But I needed this. I needed to see that there was potential. That I could learn, that I was heading in the right direction. Fall turned into winter and the snow didn't really arrive in our mountains. All that anticipation of snowboarding was unfounded. I didn't go to my home mountain to ride one day last year. I felt like I cheated on it, but mother nature cheated on me. Or so I thought.

With the dry, unseasonably warm winter I (we) were able to keep riding our bikes throughout the winter. Every weekend would be a hike or a shuttle or a little bit of trail riding. We're so lucky to live close to such great trails here. And the bike community in the northwest is like a big family. Every weekend was like meeting a new cousin, and someone new to ride with. Winter wasn't about the snow. It was about learning to ride a bike all over again. There were days where I'd push up to the top of the trail and the trails were frozen with ice crystals. The grip from the sharp ice was amazing on my tires. I couldn't believe it. Whoever thought ice would be grippy?

Fall turned to spring and we kept riding. I kept learning. I kept falling as I'd try new things. I kept changing small pieces of equipment to get just the right fit: new brakes, new pads, new gloves, new helmet, new shoes... we rode so much in the spring that for the very first time in my life I was excited for summer. I was excited to ride my mountain bike. I was excited to put all of the work to the test. I was excited to take classes and learn even more new things. I was excited to spend insane amounts of time in Whistler riding their trails.

Summer arrived and it was no disappointment. We rode. We rode hard. I broke spokes and burned through brake pads and tore holes in my jerseys when I'd crash and get massive bruises from falling. But I felt good. It was a new passion. It was all I wanted to do. The longer days meant I could get out of work and have time to go out east and ride! There were a few hot pushes up that fire road but the down is always worth the up. I lost a hatred for summer and gained a love for a new sport, a lot of awesome new friends, and better fitness than I ever had with just riding a road bike. We spent countless days in Whistler and Bellingham riding until our palms could no longer take it. The trails went from impossible to scary to so much fun.

And now it's September. Technically still summer for a few more weeks but the sprinkles have returned. The days are shorter. Teachers are back in school, and kids are back on the bus. The sun is lower in the sky and it's finally getting cooler. While there aren't as many available options to ride as there are in the middle of summer fall provides my favorite climate of the year. It's crisp, but yet still pretty. The dirt turns from dust to clay and the traction is perfect. The hikes aren't so hot, and the sun isn't so bright. There's still a few weekends left to rally to Whistler to ride the bike park. It's a good time of year.

Winter is coming soon. And, for the first time ever, I might be a little sad.

Perspectives

2010-08-29T21:32:00.000-07:00

Life is funny. Everything is all about perspectives. There are days I'm jovial and happy and loving life. There are days I'm surly and angry and wondering why I got dealt a shitty hand. Those latter sentiments are me being spoiled. Those are they days where I don't put life in its proper perspective.

I'm lucky. I was born healthy. I was raised by a really good mom. I have a brother who loves me and loves life and isn't afraid to enjoy every minute of it, even when he's having a bad day. I have a husband who makes me laugh, who is honest, who is hard-working, and who showed me how to have more fun than I ever thought possible. I have the best friends in the world. They're near and far. They're men and women. They make me smile, make me want to go to work the next day, make me miss the east coast (whoever thought THAT could be possible?), make me want to try new things (like sushi!), and more than anything they just make me feel good.

I had a friend from out of town stay with me this weekend. He's good at remembering to put things into perspective. He's a professional potter and had an extended stay in Santiago last summer. He is able to sell his work for a hefty cost because it's good. It's beautiful, it's creative, original and functional. While on his extended stay he met a man who works tirelessly to create beautiful work. He creates up to sixty pieces a day (or something crazy like that). He barely makes any money doing it, but he loves it. It's his world and he wouldn't have it any other way. It made me realize that loving your life and the things in it are way more important than what appears on the surface.

There have been a lot of days recently where I've been angry, sad, and generally cynical. I don't like some of the things going on in my world right now and I'm not scared to admit that. But, I'm not going to run away from them. I'm thinking of how lucky I am and fixing what's broken. I'm looking at how bad things could be and realizing how good they are. I'm putting my life into perspective and it's making me understand how fortunate we all are in our own right.

Make lemonade. Add some vodka. Enjoy what you've got, even if it doesn't always seem fair. Life is what you make it. Don't ever forget that.

I Suck at Relaxing

2010-08-28T17:48:00.001-07:00

I'm not good at relaxing. It's not in my blood. I can't even sleep in very well unless I absolutely know I have nothing going on, or the weather sucks so much that I can't do anything fun or active. Today is my first day home on a weekend in months and I am bored to tears. I didn't ride my bike. I didn't run. I didn't do these things because I didn't have anyone to ride with and running is just not that fun. Instead I cleaned the moss off of my roof and cleaned out the gutters. After that I went and did a little shopping.

Now I'm sitting here wondering what the heck to do next because I can not sit still. Why can't I enjoy some down time? What happened along the way? I used to be able to chill with the best but as I get older I just don't want to waste my time on my couch, reading, writing, watching TV. I want to be out, on my bike, getting exercise, or with my friends, with Roscoe, with Scott...doing something, anything besides nothing.

When people talk about vacations they often talk about how they can't wait to relax. Sit on the beach, drink some margaritas, take in some sun. I think I'd rather slit my throat. My idea of a vacation is wake up earlyish, go on some kind of crazy adventure and work up a major appetite. Then I'll follow it up with a massive and delicious feast fit for a king. Then I'll snuggle my dog until we both pass out and dream about what we can do the next day. That's my idea of a vacation. In fact I want my vacations to be so action packed that I need a vacation for my vacation. Monday = recovery day.

On that note, I'm going to get off my ass and find something exciting to do now because I've wasted too much time complaining about doing nothing.

Fear the Fearless

2010-08-08T20:57:00.001-07:00

I'm one of those people who generally will try anything. I say this with the assumption that most people that read/listen to me saying this will have common sense. Would I jump off of a building without a parachute? No. Would I jump off a building with the proper wind direction and the know-how to operate a parachute? Yes. Would I be on one of those shows where you have to eat vomit? No. Would I eat a vomit flavored Jelly Bean as a dare? Yes. See? There are limits here.

People look at some of the activities I participate in and say I'm "fearless." They hear me go ballistic on some jackass for being a jackass and think I haven't thought of the consequences of my words. While being fearless sounds kind of cool, I think it's more likely that it's just stupid. The older I get the more things I learn to fear because I realize that it's important. Having fear has kept me alive. It keeps me from rear-ending the horrible driver that cut me off at 70mph. It keeps me from eating complete crap all of the time. It keeps me working really hard at my job.

Fear and mountain biking have played some tough mental games with me lately. While I want so badly to be able to ride anything, I find myself stopping often to look before I leap. Some of the tougher things I've learned on my bike have been simply by following someone and not thinking about it. This would be my preferred method of learning new trails and jumps but something in my belly usually prevents me from just doing it.

Maybe it's because I like to (sometimes) over analyze things. Maybe it's because I have to make sure the ground really is on the other side of the drop. Maybe it's because I need to see if there are sharp things that could stab me in the back if I go over my bars. Or maybe, it's because I'm scared. Finding a good balance between fear and bravery is my toughest challenge on my bike. I ride with people who are so talented that they can just see something coming and know that they can make it. I wish I could do this. I'm not there yet. Learning to jump off a building with a parachute requires you to know how to control your body in the air, understand physics, know how to operate a parachute, know how to land, and understand how to handle unexpected consequences. On a bike there are similar things to think about. Before I learn to trust myself in the unknown, I have to understand what I need to know: speed, handling, being in the air, landing, keeping my eyes forward, knowing my surroundings and understanding that there's a way out- somehow.

All of these skills equal one thing: confidence. While there are certain aspects of my bike that I feel confident with, I've certainly not got my arms wrapped around most of it. But that's ok. Instead of being angry with my fears, I'm working with them. It's helping me set expectations, and it's exhilarating when I conquer them. Working through my fears is building my confidence, which I know will make me a better bike rider in the end. I'll never be truly fearless. I simply hope to understand that my fears are guiding me through every obstacle, whether on my bike or in life, as safely and accurately (and as fun) as possible.

A Change Will Do You Good...

2010-08-03T15:08:00.000-07:00

I'm a routine person. I wake up naturally at 6:15 each day. And by naturally I mean a cat routinely walks across my face around that time every morning. It's not always the same cat either. They just roe-sham-bo out in the hallway each morning and whomever loses gets to come be annoying. Regardless, it is what it is and I'm awake.

So I wake up early, I watch the news. I eat a little. I pack my bag. I go to work. I bike home. I eat a little more. I go to sleep. Variations in this routine include: biking the long way to or from work, eating something besides a salad for lunch, or going mountain biking after work*. This has been a comfortable routine for me for the past 7 years. I feel old typing that. I need to do something to make me feel vibrant. I have no idea what this is, but I need to find it.

Something is going to change, and soon. I think Scott may be slightly terrified at whatever this is. But status quo is no longer acceptable for me. Not right now.

*This usually constitutes an extra awesome day.

Social Has a Long Way to Go...

2010-07-27T09:47:00.000-07:00

I'm annoyed at social networks right now. The irony isn't lost on me that I'm using a blogging platform to vent, but still... I'm irked. In the last 10 minutes I've had Facebook fail to upload my videos and Twitter tell me that I'm not an authorized user? Are you freaking serious? This is how you run your services?

Come on, social networks of the world- get it together! You are current events. You are news, you are entertainment, you are a source and search engine. You are the present and you have got to figure out how to stop failing, halting, breaking down...whatever. Just figure it out! You've got more people tuning in to you than live in this entire country. That's a lot of demand. I'm sure your servers are on overtime all the time. I get that. I get that you're still trying to navigate the "what's next" era of new media. But don't worry about what's next until you can freaking figure out how to handle RIGHT NOW. I am sick and tired of working with broken services. I depend on you to do my job. It's not helpful when I can't get out what I need to get out.

Fix it. Now.

Thanks.

Ode to Canada

2010-07-01T10:40:00.000-07:00

I started this post on July 1st.... so it's taken awhile to finish it, but here goes.

Today is Canada Day. I feel like I need to do an Ode to Canada (specifically British Columbia, but overall, Canada) like I've done in the past for my mom and for little Newman the killer cat. Only really awesome things get odes and Canada, my friends, is super duper awesome.

You may ask yourself, "why hasn't Lacy done an ode to the USA?" This is a fair question. And I believe the answer is simple: I'm complacent about my relationship with the Oosa. There, I said

it. I expect the Oosa to always be good to me because I'm a tax paying citizen, I recycle, I bike to work, and I vote. I do my part, so I expect it to do the same. But Canada... Canada is the freaking cherry on top of our Oosa. Canada has so much going for it. Everyone around here teases Canada for being super white, boring, and - well- stupid. These people should check out their pots before they start messing with the kettles.

Canada has the most beautiful scenery I've ever laid eyes upon. Granted, I've not seen many places in the world, but if you haven' t driven the Sea to Sky highway then you are seriously missing some stunning views. I've been to whistler 5 weekends since May 15th and every single time I make that drive I am completely stunned at how beautiful it is. Howe Sound, Lions Bay, Horsehoe Bay and the Strait of Georgia are a color of blue I've never seen in water anywhere else, and I grew up in a pretty beautiful place. It's almost like this seafoam chalky glacier tear-

water. It looks so warm and inviting. I'm pretty sure it'd freeze your toes right off, but I don't care. It takes my words away. How many sites can make you speechless? This makes me speechless.

At the northern point of Howe Sound you'll find the Stuwamish Chief Provencial Park, mostly identifiable by the massive slab of rock that sticks out and towers over the highway. It's so out of place and so crazy looking. And if you look really hard you can usually see the tenacious few inching their way up the seams of the smooth rock face that towers into the sky. And the islands that dot the Sound are big green peaks. Some look completely uninhabited. They're steep and densely forested. I want to live on one of those islands and take a boat to the mainland and build big flowy bike trails from the top to the bottom that interlink like a giant braid of awesome...

...Which brings me to my next point. Whistler. Whistler is awesome. I can think of a million other words to help describe it, but quite simply it's my favorite place ever. When most people think of Whistler they think of skiing and snowboarding and, now maybe, the Olympics. I think of happy. I think of bikes. I think of fun. The Whistler mountain bike park is just unreal. There simply is nothing else like it on earth. The trails are long and plentiful. There's something for every ability from people who've never been on a mountain bike to the most hardcore of all riders. As I'm somewhere in between these extremes, I find myself constantly amazed and challenged by the park. There is no better place to learn the craft. Lift accessed, you're able to get in more vertical in one day in Whistler than in weeks in other places, and as they say practice makes perfect.

So, I missed finishing this post on Canada Day by a long shot. I was on my way to Whistler the next day and was too excited to type. I hope you all get a chance to experience the magic that is Whistler. Whether your biking, skiing, snowboarding, hiking, photographing, eating, rafting, ziplining, or people watching I can promise you'll be in love too.

Happy Canada Day, Canada! I wish you'd let me live there!

Kid Free, Here's Why

2010-04-28T08:56:00.000-07:00

Let me just get this out of the way right now. I do not want to have children. I have never wanted to have children. This is a decision I made about 15 years ago. It's not because I don't like kids, I actually adore kids. I used to babysit all the time when I was younger. I have many good friends who have kids that are great. They're cute, funny, squishy and look awesome in the mini Vans that I get them. It's not about to change my mind.

My decision started out for really selfish reasons. Back in high school I had wicked wicked body image issues. Way beyond what I think is normal. Becoming pregnant to me meant becoming fat and that wasn't something I could handle. Fast forward 15 years and I still don't love the idea of being pregnant, but I have other (and hopefully less immature reasons) for not wanting to have kids.

I love my down time. It means the world to me. It means I can relax, stretch my neck, stretch my back, be quiet. Read a book. Snuggle with the dog and cats. Laugh at South Park with Scott, or watch 3 hours of Law & Order in a row. I love that time.

I love being able to do what I want when I want. Is this selfish? Sure, but at least I'm honest about it. Currently we have 3 weekends in May that we'll be in Whistler. Riding mountain bikes. There's not really anything else I'd rather be doing during the summer. Especially not changing diapers, rocking a baby to sleep, or figuring out who is going to watch the grom while I figure out if I'm in shape enough to ride my bike. PASS. If I have a kid I can't just pick up and go whenever I want, and even if I could, it would certainly be more difficult an endeavor and more expensive.

Which brings me to my next point: money. We don't make a lot of it, and what we do make we spend on our other "kids," i.e Roscoe's bajillion dollar surgery, the pricey food, doggie day care etc. We also do this crazy thing called saving. Novel idea, right? I could kiss that idea good bye if I were to have to fund kids, college, etc.

Next, the world is kind of an effed up place. Seriously. What's this place going to be like in 30 or 50 years? It's probably going to be really dirty, really warm, and a lot more populated. It stresses me out thinking about it and if I had to worry about what my kid's life would be like I'd probably have an ulcer. I don't want that stress in my life.

I know there are arguments for everything I'm saying. I get that. And, if you want to have kids, have had kids or plan to have kids, then right on. I have nothing against anyone who procreates (unless you're on welfare, have kids from 5 different dads are are generally a moron- then you can kiss my ass). Children are wonderful. They're funny. They're ridiculously cute. But they're not for me. So please stop asking me when I'm going to have kids. I'm not. And don't tell me I'm going to change my mind. I'm not going to change my mind. I'm ok with growing old with my friends and my husband. I'll be a great aunt for my brother's kids or my friend's kids, or Scott's sibling's kids. I want to be that fun aunt, that fun friend, the one who isn't stressed out.

Someone posted a link on Facebook today about not having kids and it rang SO true to me. Everything Lisa says resonates with me. So please, don't look down on me for this. It's a decision I made long ago.

I Was THISCLOSE to Another Dog Love

2010-04-27T20:37:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday Scott and a bunch of buddies and I went mountain biking at one of our usual haunts in Bellingham. This place...it's in the sticks. It's a solid 10-15 miles from cell reception and the nearest house is about 5 miles away. We go out on an abandoned dirt road and park and go from there. In other words, not the kind of place you expect to see to much domestic life. Rednecks, yes. Domestic life, no.

After a long and extremely awesome day of biking with Roscoe and his girlfriend Luca we piled the dogs in the truck and started the drive home. About 1 mile away from where we were biking (and therefore still miles away from civilization) we came upon a caramel-colored puppy pit bull running down the road, very scared. Her tail was between her legs and she was a little skiddish. Wanting to save every animal in the world from a bad existence I asked Scott to pull over. He got out of the car to see if she was ok. Another friend got out and she cautiously walked over to him, tail still between her legs. I watched from the car as they pet her and talked calmly with her. Slowly her tail began to poke up in the air and within a minute it was wagging happily.

She had on a rusted choke chain but no collar. She wasn't filthy, but she wasn't clean. She was very very sweet. Kisses were abundant. I could only come to two conclusions: either she was REALLY lost, or someone had abandoned her out there. It sickens me to think of the latter, but I'm guessing someone just thought a pit-bull was a bad idea and left her there to either get shot by a redneck or eaten by a bigger animal. Without really thinking twice I climbed in the back of the truck and Scott handed her to me. She was a big pup, probably about 8 months but she was all wiggles and kisses. We rode in the back of the truck snuggling for a few minutes until we came to the first houses. No one was home in the first several houses. I began to think, "what if I have to take her home? I've always wanted a pit. I think they're wonderful and highly misunderstood animals..."

We finally came upon a man riding bikes on the road with his 3 little girls. We stopped and asked if he lost a dog. "Yeah, I lost a dog," he said, "to heaven." Scott kind of rolled his eyes at me. I told him how we'd found her abandoned and were wondering if he'd ever seen her. He said he hadn't. I asked if he was in the market for a new friend. He'd mentioned that he'd been in contact with the Humane Society (which I adore- they are no-kill, crucial for Pit Bulls) about getting another dog. I told him I'd most likely just take her there as I wasn't sure if I was ready for dog #2 yet. He thought for a second and agreed to foster her to see how things went. I gave him my phone number and took his and asked him to call me if things weren't working out. I wasn't going to let this little angel be mistreated again.

I gave her a hug and put her on a leash and sent her off with the man and his kids. They were right in front of their house which had acres of property. Perfect for a high energy dog! As we drove away Scott said, "I can't believe you didn't keep her." I asked if he wanted her and he told me yes. Had I only known...

I plan to call him tomorrow to check in and see how things are going. If somethings not right, I'll be there in 2 hours to take her some place better. Maybe here. Maybe a no-kill shelter. The problem with ANY shelter though, is that Pits have such a horrible stigma associated with them. They really are wonderful dogs. They've just been used for questionable practices in the past. It's not their fault. It's the monsters, a la Michael Vick, that raise them. The dogs themselves are sweet, smart, and crazy strong. They are excellent trail dogs and totally loyal little loves. I'll have a Pit one day, rest assured. Who knows, maybe it'll be sooner rather than later.

If you ever have the opportunity to save a Pit Bull, please consider it.

Checking In...

2010-04-24T20:41:00.000-07:00

I'm having a love/loathe relationship with my blog. I have all of these things that I think will make for interesting posts and then a day goes by and I no longer think they're all that worth writing about. Then people get upset with me for not writing because this is a window into my world. So, for the umpteenth time, I'm sorry that I've dropped the ball on this thing. Again. I no longer will commit to a certain schedule. Just when things seem appropriate.

My last post created quite an uproar. I never thought it would really get beyond my family and a few friends who may read this on occasion (perhaps more if I started writing more often, but I digress) but it ended up making it on to a site called Rowing Illustrated. That site is a super close community of current and former rowers, coxswains and coaches. They posted a link to my blog on that site and people felt really strongly one way or another about what I wrote. Some people agreed with me - actually, I think most did - and some people thought I was whining. Whatever their take, it was really fascinating to see what people thought about the issue. Being a former UW coxswain means a lot to a lot of people. All I was asking for was the recognition that I'd felt I'd earned.

Within 2 days of that post being linked on Rowing Illustrated I received an email from the head coach of Washington's rowing team stating that my name had been added to the wall. Finally. After 10 years. So, thank you R.I. for your support, thoughts and honest feelings about how the situation should be handled. One point I'd made in that post was that I didn't want to donate to the crew until I'd received my recognition. I admit this was a truly selfish, immature way to behave. I wrote Mike Callahan and told him I'd be sending in a check. I plan to stop by the boathouse on Opening Day to check out the wall for myself. Maybe I'll post a picture

Dear UW Rowing-

2010-03-21T18:15:00.001-07:00

I'm a University of Washington alumnus. I'm a Varsity Boat Club member. I spent three years as a men's coxswain at UW. I won all but one race (I think...it's been awhile). Sounds pretty good, right?

The thing is, I got kinda screwed. And it's left a bitter taste in my mouth. You see, I get emails, real mails, Facebook messages and real friends asking me to donate to the UW rowing team. I should. I totally should. It made my college experience excellent and memorable, without a doubt. Had I not had the net of the rowing team I'm not sure what I would have latched on to when I arrived 3500 miles from home at the Conibear shell house. But I still haven't opened my wallet to UW and the reasons are somewhat complicated, if not really immature.

I came to UW with great expectations. I was primed to be the best at my discipline. Coming from my team in Sarasota, I'd won the biggest races, traveled over seas to compete, had all of the right connections. Yet, my freshmen year at UW was more like dandelions to everyone else's roses. It was one of the best collegiate rowing teams in the country. I came in as a recruit. I was one of 2 girls on the men's team vying for the first freshmen boat. I'm wickedly competitive and there was little that would keep me from claiming what surely should have been mine. I knew that I was a good motivator, a decent coach, and average at steering. I figured the steering thing would come with learning a new body of water. Maybe it did. Maybe it didn't. I don't remember.

I worked hard. I became very good friends with all of the freshmen guys. We ate 3 meals a day together. I cooked for them at my apartment. We had movie nights all the time. We'd go to parties together. It was always totally platonic. We all just got along. We were buddies. I had that first boat on lock down. Over on the freshmen women's team a struggle was brewing. Two highly touted coxswains were vying for that first boat. Both had competed internationally. One was a little better than the other. She got the first boat. The other girl suddenly became courted by my freshmen coach. She was a bit heavy to be a women's coxswain (though totally a normal weight. Rowing just has bullshit logistics like that) and figured she'd have more success on the men's team. The team that I'd been with since day 1. The team that I worked out with, spent 12 hours a day with, studied with, passed out with, sweated with, cheered with...

I don't know what happened. In fact, I remember very little about the actual announcement of who would be the first boat coxswain. I just remember being told it wasn't me. I also remember the majority of the guys telling me that they picked me, but the coach wanted to use the other girl. What the hell? Are you serious? Why? What did I do wrong? Was I just not good enough? Was she really better than I? My questions were never answered by my coach. Instead I competed in second tier events and won every race. The first boat did well. After freshmen year, and all of the races, the other coxswain quit. She quit. She raced in every race that I trained 4 years to get to and SHE FREAKING QUIT. That's who the coach picked to lead his charges. Was I bitter? Hell yes.

Sophomore and junior year were a little different, but still disappointing. I was competing with male coxswains who were much much better than I. This, I can admit. I stayed with the varsity 4 and only lost one race. I was a Pac 10 champion, won all of the duels we were invited to, and collected dozens and dozens of racing tanks, including the coveted Cal Bears jersey. I used it to clean my toilet (sorry Kemps!) then I donated it to the men's team after I graduated so they could use it as motivation. (There's some real bad blood between UW and Cal.) That was my biggest donation to date, which probably seems odd since that team gave me a home for 3 years.

However, there's one thing that's still missing. Every UW rowing athlete that lettered has their name inscribed on the wall of the Connie shell house. I lettered in 2000. It was one of the proudest moments of my life, even if I was a 3rd string coxswain. My boys worked really hard and we earned every thread of that letter. Yet, for some reason my name isn't on the wall. I don't know why and I've asked several times, never to receive an answer. I look at it like not only was my boat stolen out from under me, but so was my achievement. Why? Why is my name not on that wall? When I go down and cheer on the Huskies as I do for nearly every single home race I look at that wall. My friends look for my name and each time I have to explain that it's not there because it was some kind of oversight. But, why can't it be fixed? I know it's happened to other rowers- rowers that were much more accomplished than I ever was. Yet, it seems like every time I go back one of them has had redemption and their name now adorns that wall. So, when is it my turn?

Think about that, Coaches Callahan and Ernst, the next time you send me a "donate to UW" letter. I'd love to donate to your teams, but I'm not willing to give you what you think you deserve until I get what I know I deserve.

Summer in March?

2010-03-21T18:13:00.000-07:00

The weather has been so insanely nice the last couple of weeks. We've been able to bike every single weekend. Snowboarding? What's that. It's been all mountain bikes all the time.

Roscoe's Run!

2010-02-21T07:10:00.001-08:00

Roscoe has had a great welcome back to the dog park world. We shot this video yesterday at Edmonds Dog Beach. Enjoy!

Roscoe's Run from Lacy Kemp on Vimeo.

Vermontucky!

2010-02-15T21:07:00.000-08:00

Have you ever been to Vermont? It's a strange strange place. It's beautiful, quaint, picturesque. But it's also terribly inconvenient. Is that a really selfish thing to say? I was there on a work trip. When I'm working I require 2 things: an internet connection and a cellular connection. These two things were very hard to come by.

We were there for the Dew Tour... for work. Pretty cool, right? The Dew Tour is an action sports contest that spans several different disciplines. We were focusing on skiing and snowboarding. The school of thought was that one of our products is a great utility for people involved in the action sports world, as they're heavy video consumers/creators. We flew out on a Wednesday to Albany and drove the 2 hours in the dark snow to Mount Snow, in West Dover. We were staying in a condo with an unknown number of people, which made the first night pretty interesting.

We're working with two great guys out of Portland for this campaign and we were sharing a condo with them, one of the athletes we're sponsoring and some of his friends. Needless to say, there weren't quite enough beds and some people ended up on the floor. Oh... and I forgot to mention that the "king sized" bed was really just 2 beds pushed together. They were about 3 inches different in height which made for an interesting fit. I was sharing a room with my coworker and we clearly each had our own bed. Oh, and I also forgot to mention the chain smoking that apparently happens a lot in this city. Smoking everywhere. Hotels, lift lines, outside of hotels, down the mountain, on the chairlift. I mean, really? Come on Vermont! Don't spoil your beauty with cigs!

The lack of sleep from the first night resulted in Monica and I getting a room elsewhere to give the guys a bit more room. After all, we had a competitor sleeping on a shitty sofa bed and I wanted him to get some rest! I was doing it for Steve, not because I couldn't sleep, smelled like cigarettes and was tripping over snowboards left and right. Heh... So Monica and I checked in to the Grand Summit Lodge which was a short drive away from where the guys were staying. It also happened to have the only bar and restaurant in the vicinity which proved to be quite handy several times a day. I spent more time in that bar than I have in any bar since college.

Once the event actually started happening we spent all of our time from sunrise until nearly sunset in the super cold Vermont temperatures. Lucky for us it was very sunny. Unlucky for us it was (usually) very windy. We were the only booth without walls so the wind was stinging our fingers and toes like shards of glass all day long. We resorted to a lot of dancing in the booth. It was great. We did tons of product demos and gave away some fun stickers and wrist bands to people who stopped by the booth. There were "R" stickers all over the place! Jackets, snowboards, an occasional sign. It made me happy. This is work? Seriously? Ok seriously. It did get tiring battling the wind and temperatures, but I'd pick this as my office 8 days a week if I had the choice.

Saturday was definitely the highlight of the trip. It was the superpipe ski and snowboard finals and two of our athletes were competing. Tucker Perkins ended up placing 2nd in the ski pipe. He was robbed to a ridiculous degree. His run was infinitely cleaner, bigger, and sexier than the actual winner, Simon Dumont. But, I'm not a judge so what I say means nothing. During the evening we hit up a 7-11 for some beverages to accompany us during the snowboard superpipe finals. Steve Fisher, another of the athletes we're working with, was competing in this event. As I'm an avid snowboarder my heart was definitely more in to this event. My head, however, was everywhere. We got hooked up with VIP passes to the press booth that is dead center of the pipe and overlooks everything. We were front and center. As front and center as you can be. It was madness. We were having way too much fun to the point of forgetting how cold it was. When it was time for Steve's run, we screamed so hard that I barely had a voice for the next week. He got third, which is really fantastic, but he should have finished 2nd. His run was squeaky clean, which I think the judges get tired of. It's a pretty weak reason to give someone 3rd instead of 2nd. But, again, I'm not a judge and my thoughts on this mean nothing. Experiencing that event from that location was something I'll never forget. It was absolutely a dream come true.

After the pipe event we headed to an after party at a bar called the Matterhorn. Did you know the Matterhorn was in VT? Neither did I!! But we found it and crushed it. By this point I was getting a little crazy, as was everyone else. We had a ridiculously fun night, capped off by an hour and a half wait for the ONLY CAB IN VERMONT to take us back to our hotel. I tried to walk but it was a few miles and about 0 degrees outside and the guys wouldn't let me. Sissys.

Sunday was wrapup day and super bowl Sunday. We were actually able to watch the game, which I was thrilled about. Only, I had so much work to do that my stress overcame my excitement and I ended up missing a bit of the game trying to organize my thoughts. Still, it was pretty surreal to be watching the super bowl with a bunch of skiers and snowboarders who win XGames gold medals. I don't think they really cared about the game at all. But they were troopers and hung out anyways.

That's it in a nutshell. Maple syrup, bad beds, blue skies, NO internet connection, no cell service, delicious chicken picatta, cheap champagne, cheap whisky, icy runs, bright colors, heavy winds, and cold toes = Vermont. What a blast.

Here's a silly little video I made...

Censorship Sucks

2010-02-14T19:54:00.000-08:00

When I first started writing this blog I felt like I could really let anything fly. After all, no one read it, I had no online persona and didn't give a crap if I offended anyone.

Wow, how things change.

Now 3 people read my blog!!

Ok, in all seriousness, things really do change. I'm in a very public position at a large company and things I say in my personal life can be taken as things I say for the company. Though they are two totally different opinions, I find that I'm having to censor myself on my personal blog more and more as I don't want to jeopardize anything I've worked for, or say something that could be misinterpreted as "an official company statement." And well, that just sucks.

I have a lot of things I'd love to say. A lot of things I'd love to write. And some of it would probably offend people, not that that is ever my goal, but undoubtedly comes when someone shares their opinion. Not everyone is going to agree with me. Additionally, if I want to talk about something that excites me, but it isn't necessarily in line with what I do on a day-to-day basis, I feel like I need to bite my tongue.

So here we are. I love writing my thoughts and feelings on events, but I always feel the need to hold back. It's unfortunate. But, it's reality. What's the best way to handle this situation?

This Luge Mess....is a Mess

2010-02-13T08:46:00.000-08:00

I keep reading more and more about the luge drama in Whistler. Let me begin by saying that I, unfortunately, watched the footage, and then subsequently posted it to Facebook. I later took it down because watching it messed with my head pretty bad. Georgian Nordar Kumaritashvili died yesterday on turn 16 of the world's fastest luge course. The video is morbid. But, like a bad accident I had to watch. Everyone watched. What is wrong with us? Why did I watch that? More so, why is it still being replayed on the news?

What I'm seeing today is reports from all different news stations quoting the lugers discussing how this could have been prevented, how this shouldn't have happened, how they're being treated like "little lemmings" being thrown down a chute. I'm sorry, but are you freaking kidding me? You are an Olympic luger? Do you want to go down on a mattress? If you were concerned about this sport being dangerous, even life threatening, you shouldn't do it. I don't ever get on my mountain bike- or even my road bike- and assume that I'm not going to get hurt. I never ride my snowboard and assume I won't get caught in an avalanche if I'm out of bounds. These sports are inherently dangerous. If you want to be safe play golf. Play poker. Play Foosball. Don't self propel your body down a track at speeds greater than 90MPH and expect to get away scott free. You have to know there is a thick black cloud over you. Sure, it's really exhilarating to make it down the fastest track in the world and beat everyone else in the process. But you're gambling. If you're not willing to take that risk, don't get on your sled. And don't blame the Canadians for building a "scary" track. They build tough tracks the way golf courses try to make things tougher for Tiger Woods (or at least they used to). You have to up the ante to up the competition. Olympians are the most elite athletes in the world. If the track was easy it wouldn't be worth it for them to travel across the globe to compete. The challenge is #1 survive, #2 win.

This isn't the Running Man competition. Death isn't assured, but it certainly shouldn't be dismissed.

Hiatus Over

2010-02-12T19:34:00.001-08:00

I took a long break. Longer than I intended to. I know I said I'd write more but I got busy. I got frustrated. I traveled a lot. Time got away.

But SO much has happened.

I went to Las Vegas.

I am taking my mountain biking more seriously.

I went to Vermont.

I snowboarded with a legend.

I went to San Francisco.

I've discovered so much good music.

The Olympics are here, but the snow is not!

I have a new dreammmmmm.... but I'm so scared it won't come true.

Roscoe is doing awesome!

How about them Saints!

I finally convinced Scott to cut his hair (tomorrow)!!

I am making a pact to post 7 days in a row.

If I fail I may quit this all together.

So, 1 down, 6 to go.

Peace Out 2009

2009-12-31T20:58:00.000-08:00

We're just about ready to say "goodbye" to 2009. My thoughts? Don't let the door hit you on the way out. It's been kind of a bummer year for me. I mean, sure, there have been great things, but overall I feel like this year has been tough. Tough on a lot of people. People lost jobs, money is tight, the weather is weird. People are stressed out. Animals are stressed out. Everyone is stressed out. Though I feel like I could lament for awhile on what sucked, I figure our time is better spent on focusing on what was good the last 12 months.

We are healthy. We have our aches and pains, but we're making it through our late youth with minor issues. Most of the problems come post mountain bike crash. But at least it's been really fun getting to those aches and pains! This was definitely the year for the mountain bike for me. I put a lot of time, effort and some cash into improving my opinion on mountain biking, my skills, and my equipment. Getting a new bike made a HUGE difference for me. Partaking in several skills camps at Whistler was the icing on the cake. Of course the absolute highlight of the year was adding Roscoe to our family. I've never known anything like the devotion of a dog. He is the most innocent creature I've ever met, and he absolutely adores every day, even the days he's in pain. We're eagerly working towards getting Roscoe back to his old self. We're about 6 weeks out from him getting to hit the trails again.

Work was great this year too. I got to travel a ton: New York twice, Vegas twice, San Francisco twice, LA, Boston, Chicago twice, Philadelphia, Atlanta and Washington D.C. Pretty incredible. I met amazing people throughout my travels, made wonderful professional connections, and got to do a little bit of sight seeing in the process (mostly via cab to and from airports, but whatever). We did a ton of back country riding on our snowboards late last winter, and enjoyed a lot of lowland snow and riding down our streets on our boards. We spent countless days at Whistler during mountain bike season and even managed to squeeze in a few day trips across the boarder.

I spent time with lots of great friends both new and old. Getting to see so many high school friends in various parts of the country is a real treat. It makes being away from home a little easier. I discovered how awesome SKYPE is for keeping in touch with friends and family. I tried to learn to swim a little better. I played a lot of kickball. I did much better in fantasy football. I pretended the Seahawks weren't any abysmal team. We celebrated how awesome the UW football team WILL BE NEXT YEAR. We took two road trips to California to spend time with Scott's family and my mom. We hiked and biked and biked and biked. We discovered dog beaches, and dog treadmills, and dog cookies.

There were lots of great things in 2009. Let's hope 2010 is even better.

LFK

Gnarthwest Nobbies

2009-12-27T21:00:00.000-08:00

Because I REALLY love making mountain bike videos, here's today's project:

My Kinda Holiday

2009-12-24T16:24:00.000-08:00

There's something to be said for having a holiday just the way you want it. I love being with my family and Scott's family, but sometimes it's nice to do nothing at all. Today is one of those days. I slept in until 8. I lazily took myself and Roscoe to Ballard to have breakfast with 2 of my roomates from college. Then, one of said roomates accompanied Roscoe and me to his physical therapy for 25 minutes of warm water treadmill action. After that we came home and relaxed and watched Star Wars: A New Hope. After that I went running with said roomate and her brother around Greenlake. What a stellar day for a run! It was a crisp 40ish outside and not a cloud in the sky. The lake was teeming with people- some from in town, some from out. Dogs of every shape and size. If only Roscoe could have come running with me. Soon, buddy. Soon.

So, my two old roomates are really fun. One lives in DC, one lives in New York. It's pretty fun to get together, and it's extremely rare for 3 of us to be able to get together at one time. That's one of the best things about the holidays...my friends come "home." I'm to a point now where I feel like Seattle is my home. I've lived here longer than I've lived anywhere else by several years. Though I have no blood relatives west of the Mississippi, my friends that I've made are my west coast family and I love them like their my blood relatives.

Everyone is asking me what I'm doing for Christmas, as they're all stressed out about having to be at this dinner, this party, this family gathering. I love my answer: "we have no plans." How awesome is that? I thought about going snowboarding tomorrow, but the snow sucks right now. So, we'll wake up, lay around, do the presents thing and then whatever we want. Maybe I'll go for a run. Maybe I'll go ride my road bike. Maybe I'll go ride my mountain bike. Maybe I'll sit around and watch more episodes of Star Wars. After all, we've got all six. Then, Scott's having a friend over for dinner. Deciding what to have for dinner was the most stressful part of the process, as there wasn't anyone already making something. We decided on flank steak. NOM!

So, we'll get tired playing outside (most likely), come home and cook and then sit on the couch and eat our steak and potatoes. That's right. Christmas dinner on the couch. Because I can. Because it's my style. Because we can do whatever we want. And it's nice to have nothing going on every now and then.

Whatever your plans are for Christmas, I hope you enjoy it. Enjoy your company. Enjoy your pets. Enjoy the food, wine (Prosecco for me!), and music. Enjoy all of it.

Roscoe's Recovery Project

2009-12-23T09:26:00.001-08:00

Roscoe's Recovery Project from Lacy Kemp on Vimeo.

Musings About Tiger

2009-12-14T20:36:00.001-08:00

My thoughts are all over the board with all of this Tiger Woods stuff. I mean, the guy is (was?) a a legend. Even if he fucks up (pun intended) off the course he's still got an incredible talent and is the reason golf is even remotely popular today. Wanna argue with me about that? Do it.

So, Tiger had some affairs. And by some I mean an insane amount of affairs. Dude got more booty than Captain Hook on his finest day. And if there's one person on this planet who does not put up with cheating on your spouse it's this kid. It wrecks lives, families, and trust. If you don't have trust in a relationship you don't have a relationship. At this point I'm assuming Tiger is in a pretty huge amount of crap with his wife, as he should be. If I were her I'd walk away quietly and live off of a sweet severance. (Yah, I said severance.) She's young. She's hot. She's apparently very smart. She won't have any problems finding a new man.

So that takes care of the private part of his life, which to be honest, is his life, not mine. So, I can only care as much as my gossipy brain lets me. On to the golf. The golf is big issue. I started watching golf in high school. And I watched it religiously. I had a crush on Justin Leonard. I still have a crush on Justin Leonard. And Tiger was this up and coming kid who was beating the pants off (ok, another pun intended) anyone who got in his way. It was awesome. I love a fierce competitor. I am one, so I respect others. Tiger was a new breed. He wore red every Sunday and laughed all the way to the bank. He was razor sharp and more intense than any other athlete I'd seen. He had this look...that impenetrable "I'm gonna make this shot. Even if it's physically impossible." And he'd sink it. And he'd smile that huge smile and pump his fist and it sent shivers down my spine. It was effing fascinating. I was mesmerized.

So were millions of other people. Tiger came to be the face of an entire sport. When was the last time that happened? When was golf ever "cool?" It wasn't. It was the rich kids sport. It was the east coast sport. It was for guys who wanted to wear pleated khakis and polo shirts. But along came a Tiger and it was all of a sudden bad ass.

So then, all of this happens. And we're left to wonder, "now what?" What happens to my fierce competitor? He's cowering in the corner. Hiding from paparazzi. Hiding from his golf club-wielding (speculation) wife. Hiding from shame. WHAT HAPPENS TO THE GOLFER? To be totally candid, and possibly putting myself in a line of fire: I hope he comes back. I hope he comes back with a vengeance. I hope people stare him down from all sides of the gallery and he continues to chip in from 65 yards out. I hope his eyes are as fierce as ever. I hope this because I'm selfish and I want to watch compelling sports. I want to watch good competition. No one is going to want Tiger the "human" to win. But people are going to want to see what he does. And, I want Tiger the "competitor" to win. I need that. Golf needs that. This sport is not going to be the same without him. I don't care what ESPN or Golf Digest says. I'm 29 years old, fairly hip, and I can tell you this now. Phil Mickelson just ain't cool. Camillo Villegas is too Euro. Sergio Garcia isn't good enough. Who else? Line 'em up. They aren't going to sustain the energy that Tiger did.

We need this comeback for the sport. For all of sports.

Discuss.

Making the Case for Locker

2009-12-13T16:36:00.000-08:00

If you're a football fan and don't know who Jake Locker is, go stick your head back in the sand. Jake Locker is the quarterback for the Washington Huskies. I say "is" because he hasn't yet declared for the draft and he might not. Locker still has one more year of eligibility as a Husky, so the big question is: will he declare?

There are a few schools of thought on this, but since this is my blog I'm only going to give you mine. As an alumni of UW, a rabid football fan, and the owner of two (home and away) #10 jerseys, I'm going to push for him to hold off one more year. Am I biased? You bet your ass. Husky football has suffered in the last few years. We've had zero wins in a season. We've had season-ending injuries (and life-ending, if you count Curtis Williams' sad story), no bowl games, crap coaching, and losses to teams that we should be dominating *cough*WSU*cough*. Washington is an elite school with an elite athletics program and we need to get back to where we were in the early 90s.

Of course Locker could declare, make obscene amounts of money, and hopefully get drafted by a shitty team like the Seahawks so he could still play his family. He'd probably be a top-10 pick, and as this is the last year in which rookies can make ridiculously obscenely huge amounts of money before a salary cap kicks in next year, he may want to do just that. But I think the pros of staying at UW for one more year strongly outweigh the pros of going...pro.

If Jake stays:

He will get another year of a pro-level coach in Steve Sarkisian, who is in his first year at UW after an illustrious career as an offensive coordinator at USC and a quarterbacks coach for the Oakland Raiders. This isn't something to scoff at. Sark has taken the 0-12 Huskies and in one season turned them into a 5-7 team. That might not sound so awesome to you, but to us it's a miracle turn around. And since a lot of the starters from this year are returning next year, it's only going to get better. Oh and did you read that part about Coach Sark being a QB coach in the NFL? Yah, that's pretty freaking major if you're one of the top QBs in the nation at the collegiate level. Why not stay one more year and get that extra experience under your belt? Husky fans are dying for a chance at a bowl game. Hell we'll go to the freaking Emerald City Chicken Wing Bowl. We don't care, we just want a stab at bowldom. When I was at UW we won the Rose Bowl against Purdue. It was rad. Just a taste of that would be great.

Locker's main reason for not going sticking at UW is probably the fear of injury. This isn't something to be taken lightly. As it stands now, he'd be a top 10 pick. He tears an ACL or gets the snot knocked out of him and has a bad concussion, who knows where his stock would go. Sam Bradford has this issues. He's a great QB, but had a pretty gnarly shoulder injury and while he's still going to go high in the draft, he's not a #1 pick like he could have been. The UW offensive line will remain mostly in tact next season, and they do a pretty good job of protecting Jake. And if they don't protect him, dude's got a serious set of legs that make Michael Vick look like George Costanza.

So: experience, coaching, not to mention a chance at the Heisman trophy (when was the last time UW won that?? I have no idea), a realistic chance at a bowl bid, returning the Huskies to an elite level, and improving your stock to be a potential #1 draft pick vs. making a crap ton of money and going top 10 (maybe). And let's be honest. Even with the impending salary cap, Locker will easily make enough coin to live very comfortably for the rest of his life.

So, as a Husky fan, the decision is easy. Stay. Get the experience. Get a little glory for the purple and gold. We all love Jake. It's his turn to become legendary.

Mountain Bike Vid

2009-11-16T08:59:00.000-08:00

I put together this video last night. These are some of our local spots that we've been riding lately.

As Requested: A Roscoe Update

2009-11-15T20:29:00.000-08:00

Roscoe-

Wow. He's AMAZING. Seriously. Talk about a resilient creature! His surgery was very successful. He had his 21 staples removed last Monday. He has been going to work every day with Scott or me (depending on whether or not I'm in town) and has been loving being around his family. While I was away this week for work he made major progress.

Not only is he walking but he's able to "jog" around on 3.5 legs. He even put his weight on his bad leg and lifted his good leg to pee yesterday. I think that's a pretty monumental accomplishment. He wants so badly to run hard and jump around but we have to be very very careful to not let him do that. The doctor was very strict about him getting too much stress on his pelvis/hip/femur. But he wants to and thinks he can so we're having to really keep him on a tight leash.

The prognosis is very very good. I'm sure he'll be able to snowboard with us by the end of the season and should be ready for mountain biking by next year. We've learned a few tough lessons: #1-insure your pets, especially if they're young. #2 don't EVER walk your dog off leash. Even if you think they're perfect at walking off leash. All it takes is a squirrel, or a horn, or something to spook them to have them run off.

Roscoe is SO fortunate that he is young and extremely healthy. He's also that he has a great network of friends, family and dog buddies that love him very very much.

He's just awesome. That's all there is to it.

US Airways: Kiss My Ass

2009-11-12T09:20:00.000-08:00

I'm going to complain.

US Airways- you guys stink. I've been on a LOT of airlines lately and frankly, your customer service is in the pot. I thought by upgrading to a "choice" seat I'd have a bit improved ride. True that I switched from a middle seat to an aisle, but that was about the only difference. Was it worth the $15? You bet your butt it was. Seattle to Philly is a long flight so being in the middle would have been awful. But- that's where the conveniences ended.

This was my first experience not even getting a fricking snack pack up pretzels on a plane. Just gross soggy sammiches you can buy for a cheap $7. But they're fresh, right? Riiiight. My real beef comes as I sit in the Philadelphia airport right now. I arrived well in time for my 1:15 flight to Boston. So early that the 12:15 flight hadn't begun to board. I noticed only about 10 people waiting in the waiting area so I figured I'd rock standby and get to Boston an hour earlier.

Since when is there a "no standby" policy on undersold flights PLUS a $50 change fee? Are you kidding me? Are you on Andre's meth? What a craptastic policy. USAirways should be ashamed. I already purchased my multisegment ticket. Why shouldn't I be able to hop on a 1/4 full flight if I've made it to the gate in plenty of time? Trust me, if there were another airline that I could switch to I'd do it. But instead I'm going to drink all of your sodas on my little 1 hour puddle jumper to Boston. I'm going to drink so much coke zero that I won't be able to sleep for six days. and it'll be worth it. Because I'm going to ask for the can EVERY SINGLE TIME. Even when YOU get mad.

Jackasses.

A short video

2009-10-18T21:59:00.001-07:00

I've been on the road traveling a ton lately. I've got lots to talk about but not lots of time to write.

With that in mind I did manage to make a quick video of our last Whistler trip!

Enjoy :)