Most of the Time

Up in the air, pushing through some changes in time.
Juggling emotions, emotions like knives.
Spinning out of control in a calm.
Running on adrenaline, separate lives.

Water rushing through my soul
Choking my will to move on.
Reflecting off my burdens and I can't breathe.
You may have been my biggest con.

In the midst of changing faces.
In the art of losing control.
The secrets find their spaces.
And the love becomes disposable.

Blank pages begging for ink.
Simply wanting to be trusting and true
Step to the edge with a heart on the brink.
Too much time to see through you.

So bring on your tears.
Show me the depth of your shame.
I'll show you my deepest fears.
You're reminded I'm not yours to tame.

Taking back what is done.
The time machine of life, magnified.
Not a simple battle to be won,
Enough to loosen up the ties.

This is how you found me.
So many years ago.
Tried and true, so easy to see.
And now my feelings are pushed way below.

Happy Birthday Scooter

I can go pretty far back in time, at least in my mind. So many great memories continue to pop up and bring a huge smile to my face. You've been walking this earth for 50 years now...and I'm always 7 years behind. Through those years we've shared many things. From having the same parents, cousins, aunts and uncles and sister, to sharing the same bedroom within the same homes and even some cars, clothes and more.
From my younger years I have small snip-its from the house on 3rd Avenue. Playing ball in the backyard. Riding 3-wheelers up and down the sidewalk. Riding our bikes up and down the hills to the river and back. Running away from the neighborhood bully, and building bike jumps out of spare wood from around the garage. I remember legos and bulldogs. I remember taping out roads and a village on the floor of the basement for our Hotwheels. I remember falling asleep in your bedroom after watching Friday the 13th and being scared. I remember you CD collection. I keep thinking back and remembering a time when you had all the teens from youth group over and I fell asleep early and woke up to some of the youth group girls telling me how cute I was. Ha. I remember street hockey, tennis and baseball. This was 3rd Avenue in Anoka, and we had an awesome upbringing. Everything we needed was within a mile or two, or walking distance. I ride my bike through Anoka often these days and it feels so small, but it also is big with memories and history.

I will never forget moving from the Anoka house to the Andover house. All that land, the long driveway, the woods where we built a tree fort and where I found my first porno magazine. We put miles of fun on the 3-wheelers and motorbikes. It's where I learned to drive a stick shift on your T-1000 while you were away at college. Driving moms RX-7 up and down the driveway in first and reverse only. It's where I got my left pinky finger broken when you and I were messing around in the room we shared upstairs. That same room where we made farting noises for hours. This was the home that you gave me one of my favorite Christmas presents ever...the mini basketball hoop. We played in the basement for hours and hours. Taping off a free-throw and three point line. Your library of compact discs where I was first introduced to U2 and The Violent Femmes.

This is also where I got my first car, from you and then you had it custom pinstriped for me for my birthday. Some of my favorite colors to this day are neon blue and hot pink. And that 4 speed car with push button reverse was a blast to drive and the one I got my first speeding ticket in (for excessive acceleration). You taught me that being a great driving was being both offensive and defensive and the first one to the speed limit wins. Andover is where you taught me that swearing equaled communicative ignorance, and as much as I agree, I still feel as if there is a time and place for it. Like when dad called you a Jack-ass for the time the newspaper must have caught on fire and you tried to put it out. ;)

You taught me that a clean car was important because taking pride in what you had was a positive thing and would make you appreciate it more. I remember so many things in and around that place. The day you moved away to college I was pretty young. I remember it though. And like many things in life, the day came and went and things changed and much, for me, stayed the same. There were times of life from here on out that changed who we are as individuals. Moments that bridged gaps and crated waves. Lots more great memories and many misfortunes.

After you were done with college you soon moved away to California. I came to visit a few summers and can remember your apartment, the car you drove, the room mates you had and the girl you met. Jeff's aqua green 66 mustang with the automatic had nothing on your 3 speed 289 red 66, but it sure was pretty. I recall the summer of 93 being a strange one. Mom was gone, we were in SoCal...playing basketball with Murph. I got major sunburn on my legs and toes while at the beach with Scott Peterson. Skateboarding, smoking cigars, eating my first ever fish taco from a food cart (and still the best I've had to date), learning how to surf, and trying to find myself in the midst of all the life chaos. You were there. I don't totally remember packing up and getting ready to move back to Minneapolis. I do, however, remember the drive through the mountains with the trailer off the back of teh Jeep Cherokee. Stopping in Vegas to see Steve Thomason and getting asked to leave the gambling floor because I wasn't yet 21. Gosh, is seems like a lifetime ago.

1993 held a lot of things: I graduated from High School (barely). Jill and Eric; you and Angie; Dad and Karleen all got married. pretty sure that winter I met Hunters Mom. I also remember you coming to Mpls to pick me up in a Ford Ranger...then I turned you away. WE could read into much of this in so many ways...but the paths brought us here, to this day in 2018.

We made it back home just in time to prepare for Jill and Eric's wedding. Gosh, that was a blur as well. I don't recollect it as well as I'd like....and in the same breath, that summer was sorta hit and miss. Not soon thereafter you and Angie got hitched in Michigan. I do remember driving out there with Murph and being part of the ceremony. Lots of family and friends, of course, and a really nice day (I think it was pretty hot though).

I distinctly remember Dad's wedding in October in the Sun Room off the back to the Andover house. I went to goodwill and found the ugliest shirt I could...turns out it didn't look that bad on me. I'd likely even wear it today if I still had it. Ironic? Maybe. Likely not, though.

We've owned many cars, many homes, and lived many places. Some things have remained the same and others have changed quite a bit. One certainty, though, is that we remain brothers and we share many common bonds through life's trials and tribulations...along with the highs and the wins. Where we are now has much to do with how we were brought up. What we believe. And how we've reacted. I'm proud of you and the family you've raised. The woman you've married. The smiles you've created over the years. I thank you for the memories we have shared. The things you've shown me. And the kinship we have forever.

Whatever today holds for you, I wish it to be real. Whatever the upcoming year holds for you, I hope for good things, positive things, and beautiful things. Whatever the future holds for you, I want it to be great!

This is just a snip it of so many things. BIG and small. Old a new. So here is a toast to BIGGER things that are to come. The small things that make us one. The old things that keep us honest. The new things that come with promise. I hope this birthday is the best to date. And here's to the memories that make all things great!

Happy Birthday Brother. I'm thankful for you.

Open Letter to You

The old cliche that time fly's by extremely quickly is no myth. In the blink of an eye not only can life change, but the past gets further and further away. I am a 'live in the moment' type of individual and often times, because of this trait, I forget about the past and often times forget to go back and reflect on highlights, low lights, and learning experiences. This, coupled with my mildly selfish nature, can cause and effect on life that can get overlooked....thus this letter to you. A sincere and real grouping of words that may make you laugh, may make you cry, may make you sad or angry or any other feeling under the sun. In reality, it's meant to shed light on who I am, beyond what you think, and why some things are the way they are. Ready? Let's give this a whirl.

I can hardly believe that over 21 years has gone by since you entered the world. Since that moment so many things have happened, so many things have changed, so many things have become parts of the past and so many things have been broken, re-built, broken again. Hearts, minds, memories...tarnished, scarred, lost, forever, or just for now. The certainties of life remain the same, though, you're born and then, sometime, you die. During the in between you have choices, you learn stuff, you make decisions, you learn from those decisions. Life will kick you straight down to the ground, and people will lift you up. The truth of the matter is that you have very little actual control over what is happening within the big picture, on the large scale. Your decisions do, however, impact how you react to life, and how others see you within the picture. Not that it matters what others think, but it's an impact, and if that impact is positive, mostly positive things happen back. Again, there are no guarantees, but you hope for the best, you prepare for the best, and you gain tools and knowledge to cope with the worst...even if the gaining comes from the suffering.

When I look back on life, yours specifically, it brings sorrow to my heart. Not because of anything you have done...not because you bring me any sort of ill feelings, more because of what you have been through because of my own decisions. There are the obvious big things like multiple divorces, lots of moving from city to city and even state to state. The changing of schools, the fact that your relationship with your mother may have been less than it should have been. The fact that your Dad was more wrapped up in his love interest and himself.  It's no ones fault, it's life and most people will say that they did the best job they could with what they had at any given moment. For me, I would look back and say I was selfish, misunderstood, couldn't feel love the way wanted to with an understanding of what life was truly all about. I would likely blame myself rather than others for the pain and suffering I may have put someone through, even if it was completely unbeknownst to me at the time. The long of the short of it is that you suffered at the hand of my countless poor decisions when I should have stuck up for myself in life, followed a good path, or thought things through, better, harder, and more deeply.

The intention of this is not about me, but to give you a glimpse into what I feel about the 'then me'. It's not always pretty, maybe mildly narcissistic, and sometimes just plain failure. From failed relationships, to putting the wrong things first, to always wanting more or something different then what I had at that time. Whether that was from a relationship perspective or things, money, jobs, friends, etc. The list can get long, tedious, and even unnecessary. That list leads us to our lives today. We all have our own lists...good and bad parts. And the point of today, and every fresh and new day is to make a decision on how you are going to react to situations, to people, to love, to generosity, to sickness, to health.

Life --  a privilege to experience however you choose to do it. It's a series of minutes, hours, days, weeks and years that make up memories, both good and bad and arbitrary as well. When you go through life, it just happens. You make things, you create, you destroy, you live, you love, you breath, you get scared, you get happy, you might feel sad at times. It's all part of the journey, and at the end of the day, the journey is yours...even if there are times you get off track, find yourself alone, feel dark and depressed, or just plain want to give up. It's a blessing to be here, though. It truly is. The sooner you accept that, the better life gets, even the littlest things like going to work, going on a walk, taking out the garbage (literal and figurative), enjoying friends, significant others, family, and the like. As soon as you view your life as a promise and not a demise, you start to live a fuller version of it, breath in the splendor, and exhale the freedom.

Love -- I see love. I see what it can do for others. I see what it does to people both positive and negatively. People do things for what they think is love. Wars have begun because of love. Wars have ended because of love. Life begins because of love, and love is magnified in a life that is losing a battle. I see love...differently than you do, differently than most do. Love has betrayed, caused remorse, left stones unturned, and denied me of so many possibilities. Love has ground me down, left me cold, alone, wanting and wishing. Love, or what I thought was love, is a burden, a plague, a feeling that controls you and makes you do stuff that others may find unacceptable or wrong. IN THE NAME OF LOVE; some may say. I had loved mixed up with emotion. With lust. With a feeling rather than a promise. I saw love as a control. I control you and you control me. Love was wasted on itself because it was treated as a thing you give and receive rather than a life you live surrounded by it. Love is not always beautiful. Love is not always the only thing. Love is the best thing, though. Love makes no mistakes...rather we make mistakes in love. Love never lets in the anger. We get angry even when we are loved or love. Love rises above the ashes and cools the flames. The fire and the heat weren't created by love, love does not fuel those things...it extinguishes them. I'm really bad at love. I've allowed my heart to be hardened over years and years and love couldn't creep in. Fake love is not love. It's false. Real love doesn't know falsehood, it prevails through it. Until recently, besides unconditional love I feel for you and your siblings, I had no clue what love was. I even still stumble with love and the depth of love. I can't grasp love like many others seem to. I fail at love much of the time. Love doesn't live on the surface, it lies deep within us, deeply rooted in spiritual things.

Death -- I've never died. Someday I will. Hopefully before the ones I love do. It's a certainty. It will happen. What happens when you die will never be explained. You trust one way or another. Maybe we die and it's over. Maybe we die and we go to heaven or hell. Maybe we just float around in some void of space type place and see the world from a distance forever. Maybe we start over.

What I do know about death is that it really messed me up in ways that I can't explain to you or anyone else. I used to blame my screwed up brain on the death of Grandma Bonnie...it wasn't her fault, but when she died I was transformed. That is when the heart got hard and the burden of this world became heavy and when I tried to fill a void that was either unfillable or not really even there. Women, things, material and unnecessary. Things that made me feel complete even for just those moments. Sex, cars, alcohol, sports, buying things, owning things, changing jobs. When you try to fill a void that can't be filled you miss the mark and suffer many consequences. I fell in love with ideas of things. The way things were supposed to be based on society, upbringing, leaders, and even television.

Death is the final dismissal of life. And in it you break or bend. Seeing it, experiencing it and going through this resets you and that reset gets dark, you must bring in the light. Often times I had a hard time re-setting.

Being a Dad -- if I had to simply grade myself right now on how good of a dad I have been I would barely pass the test. For all the aforementioned reasons of selfishness, denial, darkness, betrayal, and lack of knowledge or strength, I was a 'just okay' kind of dad. Even still, as I write this, I feel as if I could do so much better moving forward. And as I watch you grow up and make big decisions I find myself wanting you to only make decisions that you can control. To listen when people give you their wise words and take on a scenario. To do only things that can't hurt you or make life harder. As a dad I would not turn back the clock and change things. This sets into motion all sorts of uncertainties and changes that wouldn't put me, or us where we are right now.
As your dad I want you to be protected from heartache, dismay, ill feelings, bad people, bad things. The only thing I can do is live a life, now, that is fruitful and void of as much negativity as possible and hope that those simple things get passed on to you now or someday. I can't change the last 21 years, nor would I, but I have learned from them and am acknowledging that they weren't easy for me or for you. That being said, though, don't use that as a crutch in life. There are no excuses in moving forward if you are fully aware of your past. People make mistakes and own them. And others make mistakes and blame them. You choose.

My final thought would be to live. You have one shot at life and you get to make it count or simply live a life. Things will not make you happy, people may not make you happy and happiness is not a guarantee nor is it your right. it's curated and fulfilled. It's finding the joy in the pain, knowing full well there will be pain...but you will handle that with grace and forgiveness. Happiness is just a word that people claim, but to be truly happy is to be okay with you and just you in all situations and scenarios. If you want to be happy, be happy. If you want to feel free, break the chains. If you want to feel full, then fill yourself with good things that grow in you. If you feel darkness, seek the light. If you feel alone, surround yourself with good people. If you feel dumb, get smart. If you think you're not good enough, get better. If you think you are better, knock yourself down a notch. if you desire riches, earn them. If you want simplicity, slow down and enjoy the quiet and simply be. okay. with. where. you. are. and. who. you. are. no. matter. what.

"it's never too late to lead...."
S. Pease

Twin Cities Urban Assault

We met at The Depot, downloaded some coffee, and hit the mean streets of Hopkins. We were set up to head west and take in some gravel trails out to Victoria, but the warm weather and the quick thaw left the route sloppy and soft. We opted for pavement instead, with a little dirty rail-road detour leading into Minneapolis.
Urban Assault. The term was coined as a ride through the urban wasteland on a smooth tired mountain bike of sorts. We have altered that, because that's what fashion and verbiage is for. So, we ride. We weave in and out of suburbia en route to the big cities.
Loaded up on CX bikes we are able to ride just about any type of road and path. Only when it's gets real sloppy does it turn ugly, and you wish you had more tire.
The point of urban Assault, at least for us, is to not take the ride too seriously. hammer some gears when the time is right, take a break when the scenery is good, and laugh a lot and find time to catch up with your riding pals. if you spy something that looks cool to ride...go ride it. If you want to check out a path or road you haven't seen before, take the turn and check it out. This is urban assault, which is always an adventure.
We left the Depot at about 8:15 am. The trail system connects right at the shop and you can head just about any direction except straight south. We headed north from Hopkins, through St. Louis Park and eventually found our urban gravel stretch leading into Minneapolis. If you're heading east on the Cedar Lake Trail toward the river you end up riding parallel with the railroad tracks for quite some time. there are actually two sets of tracks, but at some point, one ends and that is where we catch the gravel road that leads to the city. The road eventually ends, but you never get too far off the main paved trail system. When it ends, we grab our bikes, head up and over some concrete barriers, and hit the pavement again. Target Field is just about a mile further up and the River Road about one more mile past that. That's where we are headed, and sooner than later it gets pretty busy out there.
Now the beauty of Urban Assault is that you never really know what you're rolling in to. You can happen upon so many cool things, odd situations, fun scenarios, and you just make split decisions. Whether it's a change of the unplanned route, or finding yourself at a dead end road...you get to make the choice where to go next.
On this particular day we rode right up on one of the largest St. Patty's Day running races in the Twin Cities. Thousands of runners traversing through the city and along the Mighty Mississippi River. It was a sea of green from east to west and north back to south. Runners smiling, laughing, pushing, and finishing. We hung out for a bit near the finish line, cheered on some runners, took in the sights, and enjoyed the fresh air winding up off the river. The Clif bar guys were there with a tent hanging out some goodies...they stopped over by our group and gave us each a bar, assorted flavors, they came in handy later down the road. After a bit we decided to head east along the river road toward the capital city of St. Paul.
This is where urban assault gets fun. you choose the road, the path, a sidewalk or some singletrack trail that leads into some woods. There are scenic overlooks, people everywhere, places to stop and eat or grab some java, and plenty of options to change direction and course. We follow the river, and the river takes us places. Places we've been, places we want to go, and places we will go someday. you get to choose, and never is an urban assault ride a copy. Ever.
we pick our times to ride hard. We choose moments to chat and laugh. At some point in time some in a group may peel off and head home while others will stick together to the end. urban Assault means there are no real rules. the one rule is, keep it fun, don't take yourself seriously, and never leave anyone behind. This doesn't mean you can't get dropped, but if the course changes, the one;s out front wait for any stragglers, then make the change together. That's the pact.
We make our way back to the Greenway, which is the central trail through the heart of Minneapolis. We head in the direction that we first came from and in about 20 minutes we will call it a day, a good day in the saddle. This section of the Greenway is flat and fast, so if it's not too crowded, you can put your head down and work the legs. On a busy day, though, you have to be extra cautious about other riders, runners, and walkers. There is plenty of trail, but also a lot of people utilizing them.
So we chug back to the lot. Only one less than when we began. He peeled off in Uptown to get some food that his gal made...he didn't invite us over. We don't care, because Urban Assault takes the cares of the day away. Just like the bible says it should. Or something like that.
The Depot parking lot is wehre we say our last thanks and goodbyes. Then we move on with our day but completely embrace that today is a good day because we started it on bikes. Onward and upward.

editors note:

The wonderful thing about Minnesota, and more specifically, the Twin Cities, is that there are trails and bicycle friendly roads everywhere. Once you get a handle on how things flow (including the river) you can get from one end of town to the other quite quickly via bicycle.

What the Heck

One Heck of a Good Time

It was October of 2015 and AJ and I crossed the finish line at Heck of the North...from that moment on I could not wait to get back there. It’s been a year since then, and we did go back. The experience, although a tad bit different, was nothing short of spectacular.

We took the Friday before the race off of work in order to get on the road a bit early and head straight to Two Harbors. We wanted to beat as much traffic as possible on the way up...ease any stress from the work week. Once we arrived there our plan was to get some late lunch, head over to Castle Danger Brewery and pick up our race packets and then meet some friends for a chat.

We were invited to stay with our friends Charlie and Jen at their cabin which is 20 miles north of Two Harbors. This is where we stayed last year as well and it was magnificent. Eventually Charlie and Jen made it into town and we sat with them for a bit at the brewery before heading out for dinner. We were waiting on a couple more folks who would be spending the weekend with us and as soon as they arrived we drove up the road and grabbed a spot at Carmody's 61, which was thought to be a thai restaurant by our fellow racer Mark (who is as funny as they come). Later we learned that the establishment was irish in name and as north woods of a bar as they come. We had endless laughs and really tasty food, then headed back to county road 2 to hit up the cabin.

AJ and I had to make a quick pitstop at the Super One Foods to purchase some snacks, and other ingestibles, along with a chip clip for cue card holding. After having two dinners and a ton of water, one would think our shopping cart would be fairly empty...that would be a wrong assessment. After finding a really good sale on Clif Bars, the shopping basket filled up quite quickly. So we paid, and made our way back to the car and on our way.

Making our way north we take a quick right on Kane Lake Road and from there traverse our way into some gnarly gravel backroads and find our way to the Schad compound. Once there we unpack our goods into the cabin, pick out one of many beds in the loft area then sit and relax a bit with the other few folks who are staying as well. This year on the night before the race there are only six of us and Lola, the family dog. Last year there were more than twelve total individuals and the vibe was very different, but very good nonetheless.

We shared stories from years past, talked bikes, gear, nutrition, and course details...and soon it was time to hit the hay and dream of gravel roads and off the beaten path trails that most people will never have the pleasure of seeing, let alone riding. The eyes closed, the REM commenced and the snoring was kept to a minimum.

The next morning came quickly and it was time to get prepared for the race. The normal weather check was done in order to figure what spandex costumes would be best to wear for the mornings endeavors. As ordered, low of 51 race morning, high of near 70...wow, we are lucky cyclists to have such a perfect forecast for Northern Minnesota in October. We geared up, nerded out and headed south to the staging area.

Race start for the 100 milers was slotted for 8am...the ‘kiddie race’ (Half Heck) would be about 10 minutes later. So we arrived a bit early without being obnoxiously early and made our way to the parking area which is situated in a big clearing essentially in the middle of the forest off of County Road 2. Cars were everywhere...all sorts of different vehicles from old VW Busses, to fancy new Subarus...this race covered the gamut of pay grades and titles, but lacked any kind of attitude. That will hopefully ring true year after year, as it’s one of the least pompous* races we’ve ever paid for.

*Actually putting the word pompous anywhere near this venue is a travesty, but I’m leaving it there for the sake of understanding.

With people meandering, bonfire glowing, tires being pumped, children playing...it really is a sight. It’s actually fairly unassuming overall. A simple white tent housing some Heck of the North soft goods, coffee and treats, and a spot for volunteers to hang out to get out of the sun is all that is needed. A flag filled finish area held in place by wooden posts and a couple folding chairs creating a chute for the riders to come through when their riding day is complete. It’s pretty simple stuff here, and that adds to the charm and keeps any pretentious attitudes at bay.

After a trip to the outhouse and a re-check on air pressure, brakes and chain lube, we are ready to go. We parked up on top of the hill overlooking the start finish area so we headed down the little mowed grassy area to the start line. Jeremy Kershaw is the race director (pictured below center), and a good one at that...he gave some words of advice, some thanks to the sponsors that helped make the event happen and urged us to have a blast and be respectful of the rules of the road and the locals. With that, we were on our way.

The first 7 miles are on a glorious gravel road that meanders northeast. It’s a perfect way to get loose, get settled in and find a rhythm. After that, the route starts to change from smooth flowing gravel to deep woods logging roads. Rocky and rooted snowmobile trails, and potholed muddy back roads traveled just enough to keep them interesting.

Keep in mind, this write up is from a riders perspective. My perspective and that of the half heck route which ended up being just over 57 miles. So we ride, AJ and I...together, chatting, climbing, descending and having a pretty damn good time in the saddle. There were plenty of others riders out there with us, so navigating the route with cue cards is less than a worry for us at this point as we could see where others had gone, and the roadways way out in the middle of nowhere were marked by Jeremy. We rode along, passing a few, getting passed by some. Mostly it was just us and a few other riders switching spots depending on the topography. The route is always changing, the scenery is ever evolving right in front of you. The colors with the sun bouncing in the sky jump out at you and grab your attention, command your attention. It’s brilliantly beautiful here and as the miles pass, you get lost in it all...being on the bike is the only place you want to be.

As the terrain shifts and you power through some long sections, the miles seem to just drop and next thing you know you are near the homestretch. This years route takes you on a 9 mile gravel road before making the left turn back to the finish area which is a 5-6 mile stretch. Getting to this point was welcomed in the sense that the trails and roads had taken a beating on the body, specifically the personal undercarriage, but the realization that the ride was nearing an end was jagged little pill.

Our legs are feeling good, our lungs have enjoyed the plentiful clean air of the northwoods and our hearts are full of splendor from the morning adventure. AJ and her saddle are no longer getting along. The last 5 miles is rough. Rocks, potholes, ruts and, well, bone jarring trail...you want it to be done...the jolts of pain take the wind right out of your sails...but you proceed. As we near the finish we chat about the ride, comparing it to last year, enjoying it as much and already looking forward to next year. Riders must cross county road 2 in order to get to the chute. There are great volunteers there making sure you are clear to cross (as it can be a busier road with fast moving cars) and we were waved through and about a ¼ mile from home. Making a hard left back into the staging area there is a huge puddle and a bunch of cheering spectators. I let AJ go first, so technically she beat me by a second. At the finish is race director jeremy with a big smile. He thanks us for racing, we thank him for putting on the event, and move on.

The finish area is just as calm and relaxing as the whole race feels. There are no nerves, no anxiety, just a relaxing and wholesome vibe all around. We see some familiar faces, trade some stories and make our way back to the car to get cleaned up.

The day is gorgeous, nearly perfect. Legs tired as we stand.  Dried mud, a little sweat, maybe even a tear or two because it’s done. As i stand atop the hill looking out over the landscape of cars and bikes...a fire burning in the background, the smell of pine and burning wood. You can’t help but wonder if everyday could be so sweet. If you did this everyday, would it be this sweet….

So we hop in the car to head to town to grab some goodies for the nights BBQ. our goal is to hit up town and get back in time to sit by the fire and watch our friends racing the 100 mile course finish their journey. Timing is great and we get back in time. Feeling refreshed, we sit and wait and soon they come through. A lead pack of 7 or 8 riders, then 3 more, and soon more to follow and flow into the finishing area. We watch, and chat and cheer. It’s community. A positive group of likeminded people that maybe share nothing but this in common and that’s enough. It’s more than enough.

The afternoon begins to wind down and riders continue to roll in. It’s time to pack up our gear and make our way back to the cabin for a BBQ with friends. A time to reflect on the day, enjoy some great food and perfect laughter and wind down another memory of Heck. night falls quickly, the stars are shining bright. And soon, slumber sets in and that day is well behind us. It was a good day to ride a bike. As is any day...and this one will forever remain in my mind.

PS -- my GF is hot

AJ Shooting a gun = hot

Today We Raced a Train

My buddy Josh, whom I met through my other buddy Brian (aka B-Hard), and I went on an Urban Assault fatbike ride on Sunday morning. It was pretty magnificent. Right out of the gates we were traversing a gravel road of ice, snow, wet, and mud. It runs along the railroad tracks through St. Louis Park and into downtown Minneapolis. When we entered the trail to the gravel road we noticed a light way back in the distance. Josh thought it might be an SUV, RR service vehicle of sorts. I thought it might be another bike with an awesome headlight. We were both wrong, which is cool, because it turned out to be a train, clipping at about 20mph...and when it caught us, it was epic for minutes. We were racing the train...and even though the train won, we were winners too. Who out there can say they raced a train on their fatbike? Am I right?

The ride was great. Urban Assault is so fun. Just go, figure it out as you go and eventually end up where you started. Great day, great memory, must do again very soon. And I'm checking the train schedule before we leave!!!

Obscure

Sunday funday

The alarm went off. I hit snooze. Then it went off again, because that’s how it works. So, I hit snooze again…so I thought. It was 6:00am the first round, then 6:08…then it was 8am! Just like that the idea of riding the Dirt Bag gravel ride in Clearwater went straight out the window. A couple profanities were muttered under AJ’s breath. Not because she was mad, but actually more out of disappointment and maybe a bit of relief.

Rosemount to Clearwater is 86 miles. 6am comes quickly after an eventful Saturday. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sweating this at all.

We quickly sent out some messages to the few who we were maybe going to hang out and ride with. They all sent back their version of ‘LOL’ and we moved on. Turns out it was a chilly morning, but shaping up to be a pretty kick-ass day over all, wind and all.

Lying in bed for a few more minutes, AJ decided she needed to get up and go for a run. Legs feeling restless, mind always moving…it wasn’t a bad idea. So off she went and I was left with a fresh cup of coffee, a bowl of fruity pebbles and Apple TV. So, I sat, sipped, ate and watched. I was in heaven. Life is all about the simple stuff and being comfortable in your ‘right now’.

As the morning moved forward and AJ returned home from her run, we decided that later in the day we would grab the Krampus and the Superfly and head up to the Riverbottoms for some scenic single-track. Since AJ is thinking about buying a fat tired bike, it only makes sense that she gets really familiar with this place…and, since she has never actually ridden there before, it made more sense to pop that proverbial cherry.

I mapped out our course starting at a small trailhead in the middle of a Bloomington neighborhood right off of Old Shakopee Rd. We headed over there a bit after the Vikings game had started, parked, unloaded, and got clipped in. I put AJ on the Krampus (Swamp Thing) and I rode the Superfly SS (Deep Purple). As we entered the woods we were quickly greeted with a stream crossing and a rugged grouping of rocks and concrete. Right off the bikes, we meandered our way through rocks, mud, water and fresh fallen leaves. I was delighted, AJ was wondering what the hell she signed up for.

Now, keep in mind, I assured AJ that the trails at the RB’s were pretty flat, wide-open, and on a scale from 1-10, 10 being the hardest…these were a 2. I lied, not purposefully, but she didn’t know that. If you’ve ever ridden the RB’s east of Lyndale then you know that, although the trails are better on that side, they are not easy by any stretch. So, she was a bit deflated at the beginning, but held it together very nicely and by the time we made it to the 35W/Lyndale trailhead she was feeling pretty good.

Getting off topic for a moment to set up some generalizations about certain people and groups or people based on what we’ve experienced. Keep in mind, this is a generalization, mild judgment, and likely true whether you like it or not…mostly because collectively AJ and I are right majority of the time when it comes to our world and perception being reality.

Before we get to the Lyndale trailhead we encounter a few walkers coming at us (easy enough to navigate) and some ‘fast’ bikers bringing up the six. The biker that came up behind us was one with a bleached blonde topical Mohawk, large gauges in his ears, on a CX bike with no helmet, and wearing a full on race kit. Is any of that bad? Absolutely not, that’s rad (almost all of it). We pull over to allow him to pass, he says ‘no you’re fine I’m waiting on a few others’…so we continue forward. Then in a blaze of glory, all 4 riders pass us on the trail without too much a warning and they are gone. Up ahead in a clear, straight area of the trail we see them leap of their bikes in CX style, shoulder their bikes and leap over the downed tree in the middle of the trail. They actually did this very impressively, but as we got closer to the tree we realized it was only about 6-8 inches in diameter. It would have been way cooler to bunny hop. I digress…

We hit the parking area which is drowning in vehicles, bikes, photographers, fisherman, boaters, runners and spectators. There are people everywhere. We head toward the next section of the Riverbottoms and ride up and over a curb to get to the trail.  On the other side of some brush and tree’s is the Mohawk guy doing a ‘in the middle of the field’ track stand. Just practicing his balance and kind of being in our way as we traverse through the multitude of people, and things. You could just feel the cool-meter going out of the roof. This guy was like the Billy Idol of cyclocross at the RB’s. He owned it. Pint is, this guy thought he had the right of way for life…on a bike.

So, we continue on, down the wide gravel fire road which eventually leads into the wooded floodplain of the Minnesota River. Again, AJ on the Surly me spinning out on the SS. We dive right in and traverse through to the small stream crossing. At this point you have 3 options:

1)      Turn around and go back

2)      Cross the river by walking yourself and your bike across a big, robust fallen tree that has some 2x4 ‘aids’ nailed to it for footing purposes.

3)      Take the little floating trolley across (i.e. load bodies and bikes onto the floating raft, use ropes to pull yourself across, exit raft on other side of stream.

I’m fairly sure-footed. AJ will tell you she is not. And the idea of crossing this natural bridge and falling off for whatever reason could be a season ender. So, we opted out on that. Turning around and heading back was not an option, well, not for us anyway. So the floating raft was what we would choose. And what a hoot that is.

We got to the other side and now were feeling pretty adventurous and having fun. Just a quick fact; from the Lyndale bridge to the Access point at Bloomington Ferry Rd is approximately 6.75 miles. We already had about 4 miles under our belts since we started at the 11^th Ave access point way back by Mound Springs Park. We continued toward BFR where we would turn around and head back. Keeping in mind that the River Bottoms is 2 way traffic the whole time, we encountered a few other riders going both directions…but the next guy, rolling solo, was coming at us (AJ in front) and he was not messing around. Because we are courteous to all, we move to the side of the trail. This guy didn’t flinch, say thank you, or move off the single-track trail one bit. AJ says as he passes “you apparently have the right of way!”…to which we got no acknowledgement, not even a ‘screw off’ or, God forbid, ‘sorry’. What a tool. Did I mention…CX bike, full kit…!

You have to stay focused, you have to be courteous to others and you have to pay attention down here. There are walkers, runners, dogs, animals, crows calling, eagles flying overhead, and dumbshit people who think they own the woods…on their fancy bikes in their racing kits, and showing zero emotion but the only important one…that of pain. Gawd, get over yourself. The really fast guys are racing right now at Green Acres…mmmmmmmkay.

We make it to the trailhead at Bloomington Ferry Rd. and it’s a quick incline to get to the lot above. The Krampus lost traction, AJ went down. No one was hurt and she was very graceful in her fall. We went across the walking bridge, took in some of the sights then headed back onto the trail to head back to where we came from.

A few more bikers on the way back, mostly fat tire folks (who by the way, do move out of the way, or give you room) and back onto the floating ferry boat, and we found ourselves back at Lyndale and the 35W bridge overhead. Instead of taking the single-track home, we decided to get on the pavement and take a little pressure off of AJ’s mind. So, we started our climb out of the river valley, headed to 101^st and made our way to the car. We got there in one piece, loaded up the bikes, gave each other a hi-five and drove our way back toward Rosemount with a little detour to Chipotle before arriving home and devouring the Mexican goodness (not derogatory).

What did we learn from riding the river bottoms today?

I learned to be patient with Angela. This was new to her, she was on a new bike, and I wanted nothing more than this to be fun and adventurous.

People are funny, and dick-ish. On bikes and off. Just because you ride a bike doesn’t mean your cool, or not cool or have the right to do what you want.

Be courteous and say hello, or at least give a thank you to someone who step out of your way to let you by safely. If you’re a dick to someone who is a dick, they will still be a dick, then you are also a dick….see what I did there?

Enjoy these days. We don’t get younger, we just don’t. Winter is coming, embrace it, but take advantage of these good days.

Be thankful. We get to do things, buy things, ride things, and eat things that most people in the world have no concept of. 

p.s.-- I like this shirt