I worked for a shop called Sunrise. The owner of said shop explained that he had chosen that name for a couple of reasons. A) He liked the idea of a beginning. Cycling held a deeper meaning to him than just pedaling to race and he wanted his shop to be an emblem of that. And 2) It was the only shop on the East side of Main Street.

The Spanish word for sunrise is Amanecer. Like all cross language meanings, amanecer has a few. In Chile, where I learned the brown man’s tongue, it was often used in terms of partying. To say, “Amanecimos ayer” meant you partied all night and didn’t stop until the sun came up. This was often used as a way to judge a party. If it didn’t amanecer, it wasn’t worth attending.

The meaning that I was always fascinated by (yes, I am fascinated by word meanings and the nuances that are used through colloquial speech) was the use for an “awakening.” Not that waking up is that cool, but when that meaning is tied to the sunrise it takes on a bit of a different hue. The Sunrise is an Awakening, a break from the day before. A new way of looking at things, an “amanecer.”

Many people like to take the arbitrarily assigned date for the New Year and look back on what was and look forward to their new beginning. I prefer to wait until February or March. For starters, there is no way I am getting up January 1st to go for a jog. It just isn’t going to happen. I don’t like to set myself up for failure. So I wait until the weather has warmed a bit before looking back. It tends to give me a bit more of a happy lookout on life. And if I decide changes are in order it gives those changes more of a chance to succeed. Plus I don’t like arbitrarily assigned dates that I am supposed to live by. If someone is going to arbitrarily assign something to my life, it will be me.

About this time last year, I was in one of the worst funks I think I’ve ever been in. I guess you could call it depression but I think that may be a bit strong of a word. It was a funk, a rut. Nothing I was doing seemed like a good idea and nothing I could do seemed any better. I tried making some changes, they didn’t help until…

I traded a set of wheels that had hung on a road bike in my shed for about 9 months for the crazy blue bike. And then I rode the thing. It brought me right out of the funk as quick as a month of commuting can. I then spent most of the rest of the year cleaning up my messes that I had made for the few months before that.

This past Monday was a stark realization that the demons I have buried under years of alcohol consumption aren’t buried very well. A simple photograph or a memory can bring them raging to the surface and propel me deep into the spaces in between. This past Monday was also a reminder of how important riding my bike is for my mental health. A simple 26 mile ride can bring me back quicker than anything else.

And I guess that is what it is all about, riding. A simple realization that forward motion propelled by one’s own power can be an awakening…

P. L. and R.

Amaneced!

Sunday saw the Mooseknuckler-mobile out to Babylon. Shelby was hoping for some good light for some video taking. KB and I hadn’t ridden the trail so we tagged along. Unfortunately, the light was less than cooperative with the hazy afternoon and all. Despite the lack of death defyingly beautiful video, good riding was had by all. Except maybe Shelby who lugged around all his photo equipment…

Yesterday, found your Uncle Knuckler with a head full of old demons that he thought he had slain. Luckily, I had the day off and plenty of bikes from which to pick. Even with the shed full of bikes, it took a good deal of mental effort to kit up and pedal may way into the desert instead of grabbing the bottle and putting MASH on repeat. It took about five miles, but once I hit the Prospector I couldn’t help but smile and watch the clouds play with the red rocks. After that point, there was nothing that could stop me from riding as much as I possibly could. I spun out to Red Cliffs, rode the little loop in the parking lot and worked my way home, hitting every section of singletrack I could find.

Them demons been exorcised. Nuf said.

Speaking of all those bikes. It has been determined that we are at capacity.

The only good thing about that is one of the bikes isn’t ours. We borrowed my dad’s 29′r hardtail so KB could see if she needed one. So technically we have space for one more. And I guess we could always put a couple back in the drum room if we absolutely necessary…

After organizing the corral on Sunday, I couldn’t help but feel a little bad that my International hadn’t been ridden in a while. I’m not one to hit the pavement often but I really dig this bike. And she was covered in dust with flat tires. I got off a little early today and decided to maximize my time for riding and grabbed the skinny tire bike. It’s been a while, but when I got home from my road ride, I had a big smile on my face and plans of riding her again soon have been bouncing around in my head ever since.

In preparation for today’s ride, I realized I needed a saddle bag. Thanks to Scarf I had one handy that went well with the overall motif of my thoughts of road riding.

Aint she a beaut?

Anyway, my legs currently feel like lead and my good friend Jose is here to help me get through the evening. So I must bid you all goodnight, but first, the photo evidence of Babylon (yea, I know Shelby, the light is flat…).

P. L. and R.

When I was but a wee lad, I spent a lot of time thinking. Most of the ideas and thoughts that bounced around in my head went ahead and bounced right out. There were only a few that stuck and a few that I attempted to see if they could be. Most of these were purely philosophical bull shit type questions. One of these questions was the existence of silence.

I thought a lot about silence. I spent a lot of time alone tramping around wherever it was that I could in search of the absence of sound. I quickly found that the colder the weather, the deeper the void of sound was.

Anyone who has spent a winter night on top of mountain where cars are not aloud, where people do not tread (at least very often) and where the snow is high, are probably the closest they will ever be to truly experiencing silence. That void of noise where all is still and all is dead. There is no motion, no disturbing sound. The waves of the air are undisturbed. Peace.

Through this time of seeking for complete silence, it quickly became evident that man cannot experience it. The world can be completely at ease but man cannot. He may sit in the middle of a meadow where nothing stirs. But the fact that he is there, means there is noise for he can never be still. He must always breath. And the sound of breath is never louder than when one is seeking for it to not disturb the surrounding solitude. It bursts the deafening abyss of sound with little respect for those around it. Hold your breath? Sure, then the noise of your head about to explode begins. The pounding in your ears will overwhelm anything that has ever come from outside them. Man cannot be still.

Silence does not exist for us.

But that doesn’t really matter. I wasn’t searching so much for the silence as much as the solitude and peace that existed in the places that I searched. Many of my favorite activities are remnants of this search. Snowshoeing, night riding, backpacking… all contain an element of the silent and all are best done alone.

P. L. and R.

You may recall past Making Cycling Difficult posts about this particular area. I’m not sure what the draw is, but when the weather gets wet and cold I feel this desire to ride the sand.

It’s either a desire or my stupidity in forgetting that even when sand is wet, it is difficult to ride. But sometimes the point is to make it difficult, and this was one of those times.

I’ve attempted to make it up the Mill Creek road/trail to the wilderness boundary many a time. I’ve always turned around after about 20-30 minutes because I am a big pussy. And there are few things that can top the frustration of riding in sand.

I was determined. I had the time. I had the idea. So I did it. I pedaled, pushed, dragged, slid, and hiked my way to the boundary.

It was pretty awesome, as you can see from the photo, but it didn’t quench my thirst. Now that I’ve made it to the boundary, I want to hike to the ridge. Maybe see what is up Washington Hollow. It is a cool little cove. And no one is there which is more than enough of a reason for me to go back.

Photo evidence.

And for those of you wondering, the sand was actually a lot of fun. Would I want to ride in the sand every day? No, but once I reached the top and was able to turn around and come back down into town it was a blast. I was able to ride almost the entire way back. I swung down into the drops and just did everything I could to keep the rubber side down and the pedals turning. The squirming and washing out added to the excitement. I’ll be back.

Out.

Look forward to a review soon.

Now, it’s time to ride…

Day #2 on the other hand was fun and I enjoyed just about every minute of the ride. Except the 10 or so that I wish I could have gotten back. I spent those 10 riding in circles trying to find the damn bike path that would take me through the suburban hell I was trapped in and under the freeway to reserve heaven. Luckily I found my way out before the devil found out I was there.

Once that was all over and I was headed to where I wanted to be, the ride was nice.

I made a few subtle changes to the bike and liked them. Seeing that for some reason putting cages on my hardtail also meant that I couldn’t get bottles out of those cages, I purchased some Z cages. These allow the bottle to exit to the side. Made all the difference in the world. I also went back to Ergon grips with bar ends. Yup, I’m rocking bar ends. Nope, I don’t ride a riser bar. So you can stick that in your book…

Anyways….

I added 30 minutes to my ride and double my mileage. Yes, I felt better.

And now for a random music video.

Out.

I started training for the True Grit last night.

I started by drinking some Tequila as a motivator for getting out of bed and made a promise to myself that I would, in fact, go for a ride in the morning. If, for nothing else than to clear the fog…

I report that I did just that. And it really, really, really sucked.

As I rolled out of bed, I was excited. Then I walked outside and the mugginess of the morning hit me. I almost went straight back to bed. But I had made promises and there was a little fog to clear. I began to gather the necessities. I filled the bottles, gathered my riding clothes, pumped up the tires and grabbed the ear phones. Then I went outside and began to ride.

As they say, I must have left my legs in bed. I didn’t actually feel too shitty until I hit dirt and then things just kept getting worse.  You can see from the picture, which was not posed, I am not happy about the way things are going.

I rode 8 some odd miles in about an hour.

At least the view was pretty.

In more important news, the Leadville 100 took place this weekend. You can get the results here.

However, I found the DC version a bit more interesting.

In a different note, after hopping on over there to steal the screen shot you are enjoying, I found some new news, that is even more important so take the leap and help Charles…

The only other big news that I heard this weekend was about the Ames Straw Yanker or something like that. You can read my thoughts here.

Oh and Argentina just re-elected Sra. Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner, again.

If the juxtaposition of those two events doesn’t say something to you, it should.

I leave you with Jon Stewart.

Until whenever, Out.

P. L. and R.

Three spots, two of them reserved for the handicapped.

I guess my mind isn’t what it used to be. Two rides in less then 24 hours both of which I have forgotten something vitally important. Last night it was the skid lid. Today it was water. But hey, I just live in a desert water isn’t really that important..

I got to the trailhead of Prospector this morning with “ganas” to ride only to find that my water bottle with all the water I was going to drink on this little adventure was conveniently still on the counter at home. Not to be deterred I decided to make the best of it and do a little exploring on the Red Cliff’s side of the Prospector. Seeing that there is a new step over and a trail on the other side of the road, it seemed like a good idea.

The next obstacle I ran into was the above photo. I’m all for making sure there are reserved spots for the handicap, but the only parking lot close to the Prospector Trailhead and 2/3 of it is off limits. The other 1/3 was in use. It seems a bit excessive, but whatever. I turned around and parked at the other “new” step over just up from the first stream crossing as you head into the recreational area. The sign said High Grade and had that beautiful little decal that meant it was open to me.

High Grade takes you from this parking lot back to the Prospector. It’s not long and after having ridden it both directions it looks that it will be the connector to a new parking lot when all is said and done. Which I’m guessing would then make more sense that the other one is off limits to almost everyone.

After reconnecting with the Prospector, I headed back down to the road and crossed over to the “new” section. It was short and basically took me back to the stream. The stream is currently what we would call a river around these parts so crossing it didn’t seem like a good idea with the gear I was wearing. I could see the trail on the other side and it looked like a reclaimed road. Not ideal but not bad either. If the road goes as far as it could potentially go, it could become a vital link in the Turkey Farm Loop.

I turned around and headed back up the Prospector and High Grade back to the car. I then checked out the Trailhead for White Reef. Again looks like a road but is heading in a good direction.

After my brief trail reconnaissance, I was going to head back home (it was getting warm and I still didn’t have any water). So I took the long way home and checked out the trail OTE has been working on over by Quail Reservoir. Looks to be tight and twisty as it I have heard the rumors confirm.

All in all, this morning could have been a much better ride If I tweren’t so forgetful. Maybe next time I will remember everything…

Out.

This is what it looks like to drive through Ohio. As a bonus we were listening to Defiance, Ohio while the pictures were taken. If you are just dying for more frequent updates, follow me on Twitter @mcaknuckler.

I’m getting sick of this view. One more flight and I think I will be in Albany…