I was able to get time off from my boss (self) to make a trip to St. George. It was “for” thanksgiving, but I was actually on the road, returning, on Thanksgiving proper. Great day to travel, if you ask me.
I was able to visit my entire immediate family, including my twin niece and nephew, who are less than a year old. It was really great to be able to spend the time with everyone. As I get older I seem to appreciate having a loving family more and more. I’m lucky and I know it. Most incredible, is that they care for me, and want to see me simply because I’m me.
I did some awesome rides with my brothers and my dad. We always have good rides together and it’s great that we all share similar interests and can do so much together. I’m lucky and I know it. Good times on the Behemoth and Leviathan on some of the best trails I’ve ever ridden.
It was interesting to spend time with the babies and to see how they effect the parents. I’m not signing up any time soon, that’s for sure. But I have to admit that the kids are interesting in ways I didn’t realize. I know enough people with young kids, but I’ve never lived in a house with them. One thing is for sure: other people’s kids are not interesting and usually annoying. But kids you are related to are different… at least for me.
The drive back was actually quite enjoyable. Lack of traffic, a new route (down the west side of the AZ/CA border) and good tunes surely contributed. But I just got into a mental groove and thought pattern that I didn’t want to end. In the ~9 hour drive, the car was not moving (by GPS) for only ~5 minutes for gas.
It’s always refreshing to do a road trip in the Western US. I look around and see open, untouched land. I see amazing rock formations, and beautiful landscapes. But I also see plain old hills, boring valleys and useless rock. I look to the left and see a hill that no one loves. No one appreciates or even notices it as they drive by on the highway. No one has ever climbed it, or even thought about climbing it. I look and that hill and think, “good.” It’s not the grand f-ing canyon, so no one cares. Good.
While it’s nice that there’s still land that’s not developed or being loved to death (while being “preserved”), it’s more about appreciating beauty and life for what it is. People are so focused on the flashy and new. If it’s not the most beautiful and famous mountain in the world, it’s not interesting. If it hasn’t been featured in the latest Outside magazine, then who cares? Just because this forgotten hill isn’t the most spectacular doesn’t mean it isn’t worthy of looking at or climbing. You can still stand near it, feel the wind on your face and appreciate the moment for what it is — mediocre. Let’s face it, life is mediocre. The excitement and high moments are interspersed with, well, crap. Sitting in a car for 9 hours as you parallel the Colorado River isn’t exactly a party. Yet I really enjoyed it. Not every bike ride can be the best of your life. Not every trail has the perfect technical features and knee-shaking views. If you’re only living for the best moments (or worse, trying to recreate them), you’re not living for much.
This isn’t to suggest that we settle for the mediocre. On the contrary, I have a very low tolerance for mediocre people. Many of my views would probably be judged as ‘elitist.’ I think it’s important to apply yourself, work hard and accomplish something with your life. But even if you’re successful in doing that, there’s always going to be someone better. It’s not about the goal, or the end. It’s about the means and the process. And most important of all is that you apply yourself to something that is you.
I rode the local wash/trail/pavement loop on my return to Tucson, and I felt something I haven’t felt for some time. It was just a pure exhilaration from exercise and being out. I wasn’t even doing anything interesting — just climbing pavement. But it just felt good. I didn’t feel tired. There are so many reasons that I ride a bike that losing one or two of them is never a big deal. But I’m very glad to feel this one return.
The rides I did in St. George were good rides, but I didn’t feel “good.” On this ride I felt good, and because of that it was a good–no, great–ride. And it was just a dinky suburban/wash ride. My body is somewhat of a mystery to me, and just when I think I understand something about it, I realize I’m clueless. I know more and more every year, but there is still much that is unknown. I like it that way, actually, even if it can be frustrating.
Blog school 101 says to post a picture with every post to make it interesting — less mediocre. Worst possible thing is to write a long entry with no pics. With that, this entry ends, even though I’ve got plenty of good pics from St. George.
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