Sleepy Gap

Spring has broken open across the skies of Asheville. Some rain, but mostly the crisp clearness of open skies and the promise of green. I headed out to the trails on the first clear day I could. The trails were surprisingly dry. I rode out feeling my legs grow stronger with each push. By the second ride, I was thinking, "I could actually be good at this..." and then there was the second ride. We were climbing up a surprisingly long run. It hurt. My legs were tired and I was sure it wasn't at all worth it. Then when we crested the peak

single bird crossing a

deep valley of evergreen

don't forget to love

It was good to remember.

Falling Down

Ice slick to mud pit
Winter riding I'm finding
Beauty in falling


I took my first winter mountain bike ride at Bent Creek. What started out as a fairly low-key ride morphed into a several hour trek up mud, snow and ice covered trails. Up is always a physical challenge, but down is a mental one. The idea is that you surrender to the flow the trail presents, relax into its twists and turns. The challenge for me is knowing that just because I do my part of giving into and trusting the trail it doesn't mean I won't get thrown into the dirt.

I was trailing far behind the group. Trying to learn something about how the bike works in the conditions of mud and snow. The terraine unpredictable, following a logic I hadn't incorporated into my understanding of trail elements. At the end of a slick of ice, I would see what appeared to be a section of earth covered in leaves. I would relax, hoping for traction that would provide a grip to the winding pass ahead. But the end of the section of ice provided no such relief. Rather it provided a mud pit, slicker than the section just rode. There was nothing to do, but hold on.

Towards the end of the ride, brain tired and near physical exhaustion; I crashed. I can't tell you exactly what happened. All I know is that I was upright on the bike one moment and head first in the snow the next. Tangled in the bike frame I righted myself. What followed was panic, anger, and relief. I rode up ahead to find my lover waiting. He brushed the snow from my helmet. We road back to the car. The experience would push us to explore yet uncharted areas of our relationship. To slide around in messy territory. To fall down.

After a hot bath, we headed out to a local restaurant. We ate and drank porter. We laughed a bit and went home to bed. The next morning I was much less sore then I expected to be. The bruises just surfacing.

A friend Greg says, "scars are just tattoos with better stories".