Up dates

We go up into the hills to reflect. With not much above us, thoughts are clearer. Or, if not clearer per se, more genuine.


At 12,000 feet, your mind does what it wants. My mind had an idea to set up a small trailside bake sale, but rather than sell baked goods, I'd offer gloves to the riders passing through the bush.

This day I felt strong. I marveled at the beauty and I thought about the way my body delivers oxygen from the air to the muscles in my legs. Burning hot, and burning efficiently.

Another day, on another mountain, above 13,000 feet, my body and mind colluded against me. I wasn't imagining those clouds; they had won the race this day.


I thanked the road for being flatter near the midpoint of the climb. I was confused when the race marshal rolled up next to me to alert me that the pro peloton was coming. They must be doping; no way they could catch me this low on the mountain.

I learned a lot on this day, though. It will not be easy for the casual reader to quite understand, perhaps, but I realized some things on this ascent. On this ascent, I accepted the loss of the past and the impossibility of the future; there is only now. On this ascent I learned that my own mind may, no did, and will, try to sabotage my goal. I learned what it feels like to want to turn around and point the bicycle downhill; to take the easy way out. To accept 1,000 years of shame in exchange for instant ease. Of course I did not turn around, but to feel this way was as real for me as turning around. I had never wanted to turn around before. Higher on the mountain, I remembered what it feels like to be bored. I saw the beauty around me and was indifferent. As I regained my strength, at the top of the climb, I laughed at myself and these crazy things running through my head. These crazy ideas are why I climb. As I sprinted past other finishers at the top I realized that this day I had been given much to think about.