We might be older, but it doesn't mean we act that way.

The amazing Indian Springs

My first running photoshoot thanks
to Tai. Wade proves who needs
gloves when you have socks.....?

Without a doubt one of the things that makes me the luckiest person is the my group of Dayton and beyond friends, The Crew. This group of 15+ guys (yes, of course its all dudes; we learned at a young age, "Girls on one side, guys on the other!"), most of whom I have known for well over 20 years (some since I was 6), are honestly like brothers to me. Unfortunately, we only get to see each other a couple of times a year now. But one of the reasons why I know I am so lucky to have these friends is that no matter how long it has been since we have seen each other, it feels like no time has passed at all....for better or worse.

Another shot from the run, showing
the amazing Adam house in
the background.

Fortunately, this past weekend I was able to see a part of The Crew in Crested Butte, Colorado... ahh, the sunshine state. For the avid AoaNM followers, you might remember a similar trip took place 5 years ago (Crested Butte). This trip had some returning characters, several missing, and one new one. Living in New Mexico, I had the pleasure of driving up to western Colorado. I really love that drive, especially southern Colorado. Of course, I left work late, so most of the drive was in the dark. Driving through northern NM in the dark is pretty surreal. You pass another car maybe every 30 minutes or so. You drive along a perfectly straight road and the world dissolves into black at the limit of your headlights. Those 30 minutes feel like hours. If not for the dashes on the road, I would have no way of knowing if I am actually moving. Then in southern Colorado, you begin to drive through these amazing little towns. Each seem like isolated islands of civilization, knowing nothing of the others. But each town has this strange feeling, almost drawing me to pull over and settle down in this completely foreign town. I managed to resist the urge of relocating my life to some random small Colorado town and pulled into CB late that night, with just a couple hairy moments narrowly avoiding the hundreds of deer and elk hanging out along the road the last 20 miles of the drive.

The money shot! Thanks Tai for making me feel famous.

When a normal person thinks of a group of guys in their young 30's hanging out at a top ski destinations, with an amazing base of snow, there are certain activities that come to mind, namely skiing. Other than my half-day spent cross country skiing, nobody went skiing. In our defense, several of the guys went snowmobiling. I did not because I prefer human-powered activities (that excuse was met with groans from the other guys and "I knew you would say that.") No, we spent the weekend playing King of Tokyo board game, cooking ridiculous meals, playing capture the flag/snow ball fight (which soon devolved into our typical fight about someone somehow cheating), building the most epic sledding route known to man (at least in our opinion), and of course making fun of Ross and Blake as often as we could.

This is how most of the weekend
looked, us playing Kings of Tokyo

Again, taking the normal person's perspective, this weekend sounds like something 12-year olds would do. Considering our behavior while doing all of these activities, 12-year olds is probably about right, if not generous. For the benefit of everyone, I won't go into details of this behavior, you will just have to take my word for it. I will say, as a follow-up to the last CB trip, we repeated the food challenge with Blake. We may have been a little ambitious on the spice, but needless to say he lost again. This time, the punishment involved a midnight, full nude trip down the sledding route. How I wish we had a video! He set a record time, nailing each of the sharp turns perfectly. Although, stopping the sled in the deep snow may have been a little cold for him. Without a doubt, it was a fantastic weekend. I don't regret not skiing; any time spent skiing would have meant less time I could have spent with these guys (well, I could have done with less Blake time.....just kidding....kind of).

Ahh, I am hilarious

But, that wasn't the end of my weekend. After leaving CB, I drove west, heading over to Utah. Again, this was an awesome drive. Western Colorado is pretty awesome to drive through, however, efficient driving it is not. I fortunately was not in a hurry because the winding roads and hairpin turns with hundreds of feet drop-offs is not conducive to making good time. The craziest part of the drive is crossing the Colorado-Utah border. Leaving Colorado you work your way through mountain passes then all of a sudden you hit a martian landscape, aka Utah. Colorado has a ton of sharp, jagged peaks, Utah has rounded blobs of red rock.

Kevin climbing hard and looking badass while
doing it, as usual.

I was heading to Indian Springs to meet up with Kevin and Becky. Kevin is known from many earlier posts (e.g. NH nICE, Ol' Man Wilson, you are a grumpy SOB, and many more, including the slideshow from our eastern Sierras trip). I got into Indian Springs late, so this part of the excursion only included half of a day of climbing. While I only went up two routes, it was awesome to see Kevin and Becky and to see Kevin climb (while he was quite unhappy with his climbing, I was of course pretty impressed). Indian Springs is also very impressive. Considering the surrounding martial landscape, Indian Springs feels like another world.

So then the long drive back home. I won't go into details here. Like I feel now, I was quite tired at this point in the trip and just wanted to go to bed.

Sorry for the long-winded rambling post, but let's be honest, that is kind of my M.O. Until next time....

Tai's snowmobiling attire.

Umm, no idea and no comment. It is Blake....

Wouldn't be a proper weekend without male on male "wrestling"

Pretty standard scene, I am the first one to fall asleep.

Hard to beat this view from the porch

Just a couple normal 32-year olds

Ross pouring a beer in Tony's mouth while caressing his head? Again, no clue and no comment. 

A little FIFA action before I got pissed that we got scored on and they wouldn't skip the celebration, resulting in me turning off the system. I have outgrown most of competitiveness, I promise!

P.S. Photo credit for all Colorado pictures goes to the fantastic Tai-Jen X Chen!

Lists.

"There are things that can be controlled and things that can't. Somewhere in the spaces between the two we fashion out art and our lives"
-Jim Bridwell

Unfortunately, this is an adventureless posting again. I know, I'm getting lame. But, I recently pulled out an old notepad and discovered a list I had made circa fall 2008. On a side note, I love making lists. But really, who doesn't? This list was appropriately titled, "Adventure List." As the title alludes, this list included many adventures I hope to accomplish.

I remember considering posting the list on this very blog at the time, but then opting out. I felt it might appear like I was trying to act all "hardcore" and "adventurous," when really I am just a normal man. The amazing thing is that over the last year and a half I actually accomplished the first thing on my list!

This got me to think, everyone should make adventure lists! These lists should be without limit. I'm not trying the preach, "You can accomplish anything you put your mind to" mentality. My motivation is more intimate. The great thing about routines is that they are comfortable and efficient. Adventures are neither of these, that is why they are called adventures. But the thing that separates us from computers is not our ability to keep a routine, it is our ability to do exactly not that -- adventures. Looking at pictures from Elizabeth and Casey's travels around Thailand and Myanmar, I always think: something that seemed so inconvenient to routine and expenses opened a world that from third party perseective simply looks magical.

So, here's my list. I hope you make your own and dream bigger than big. I also do not plan to cross anything off, rather just check how many times I've done it. Finally, remember stories that begin with, "Remember when we..." are much more interesting than, "This one time I..." So adventure with a loved one.

Adventure List

1. Ride 200-miles in a day
2. Do an Ironman
3. Race Ironman Kona
4. XC ski tour Yellowstone
5. XC ski / ice climb tour Yostemite
6. Climb a big wall
7. Climb El Cap
8. Run a 50-mile race
9. Do a multi-stage bike race
10. Learn to fly an ultra-light
11. See the Northern Lights
12. Ride from LA to San Fran
13. Go to Japan
14. Bike through Laos
15. Go to Mongolia
16. Bike from eastern Russia through Mongolia
17. Climb in Greenland
18. Ride the Leadville 100
19. Climb in Newfoundland
20. Fly fish the Two Hearted River
21. Go to Bell's Brewery
22. Ride a wood velodrome
23. Go on a bike tour with a close friend (to be honest, I just added this one today, but something I've thought about for a while)

I added some pretty pictures because if you are anything like me, you would just look at the pictures and opt out of reading any of my ramblings. (Pictures include: a normal summer night at Caesars Creek, Ohio (I love Ohio); Denali Park, Alaska; me and my "little" brother in Hatcher's Pass, Alaska).

SNOWMAGEDDON!!!!

[Something about breaking trail feels awesome, and tiring. Awesomely tiring?]

[cue a deep, drawn voice that would be guilty of being totally annoying, but thanks to Hollywood is "only guilty of being awesome" (if you can cite that reference lets be best friends, unless you are a female and single, then when do we get married?)]
"Narrator: This is the Earth, at a time when the dinosaurs roamed a lush and fertile planet.
[From behind the camera, a giant asteroid appears, speeding towards the Earth ahead of it]
Narrator: A piece of rock just 6 miles wide changed all that.
[Blazing through the atmosphere, the asteroid impacts with a spectacular display of fire and destruction]
Narrator: It hit with the force of 10,000 nuclear weapons. A trillion tons of dirt and rock hurtled into the atmosphere, creating a suffocating blanket of dust the sun was powerless to penetrate for a thousand years. It happened before. It will happen again. It's just a question of when."
Narrator: The peaceful East Coast was comfortably enjoying Winter winding down and the premier of the final season of Lost (finally), but little did they know that they were in the deadly cross-hairs of a force far greater than they could ever imagine. Only one man, a weatherman, was able to identify this catastrophe rocketing towards them, but everyone just wrote him off as a lunatic (because, well, he was). But before millions could see The Who take the halftime stage (who? The Who? Who wants to see a Who nip slip?), they would be pounded by Snowmageddon!!!
[dun-dun-duuuun!!!!]
(on a side note, I once graded a college level paper about asteroids and the kid cited "Armageddon" the movie as a scientific reference! Granted Bruce Willis legitimizes that, but Ben Affleck destroys all credit. But not only did he reference it, he plagiarized the narrator word-for-word. The real crime, however, is that I did not even fail him, barely.)

Other than being short by about 15 feet of snow, a little fire and wrath, and Bruce Willis wasting his life on a total loser (who's only good movie inspired us all to drop out of school, get a library card, solve equations on our bathroom mirror, start eating apples, and recognize the importance of a retainer) who was smitten for Bruce's daughter (who would be totally smoking hot, except every time you look at her you see flashes of her father half-painted in black body-paint zipper thing, while a guitar solo drowns in the background), this was pretty much nothing like the Armageddon of snow storms. But it DID bring a lot of snow over night.

Realizing that running in knee-deep, wet snow did not sound totally awesome, unless, of course, I was training to fight an 8foot Soviet with "Eye of the Tiger" playing on repeat and wearing an awesome leather jacket, I went for a ski. But it is never a "normal" ski when you are in the vice grips of Snowmageddon (no, "snowmageddon" will never get old, and if you think it is, you need to watch this again).

Things I learned from other people while out skiing:
1. When Snowmageddon is pounding the countryside, it is not wise to take a "short-cut" through the woods on a forest road in the middle of the night.

2. After you get stuck on a on a forest road in the middle of the night, before spending the night in your truck, maybe you should realize that you are only about 4miles from a major road.

3. When you are driving in the next morning to pick your friends up after they spent the night in their truck all night after getting stuck on a forest road only 4miles from a major road, don't get yourself stuck also.

4. When Snowmageddon hits, driving in knee deep snow to go sledding in the middle of the forest is not be the most productive use of your time after you slide off the road, get stuck on a rock, and never actually go sledding.

5. When you are skiing along a forest road after Snowmageddon hits, you are no longer a skier, you are road-side assistance on skis (I learned that one from myself).

Cliff Notes of today's post: We got a lot of snow. I went skiing, then got a milkshake. Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: No nuclear warheads were set off in the writing of this blog.

Silent, still....and only one gunshot

After snowing all day, the hills around me metamorphosed from a land of verglace coated brown into a brilliantly white winter wonderland. Come evening, I picked Kim up and we headed to a dead-end up in the hills. We were immediately passed by a couple snowmobiles, but after their noise disappeared and we found oxygen again, the world was silent and still. Popping on our XC skis and headlamps (unfortunately, the lingering storm cloaked the moon light), we were on our way.

The next hour and a half simply included breaking new tracks in the half foot of powder. The only light came from our headlamps. The only sounds were our skis cutting through the snow and the rhythmic clicking of our poles. It was so quiet I could hear the small icy snowflakes patting my face. Until blisters began to develop, all I could think about was how simple it was cutting through the black world before me.

[We did hear one other noise, a muffled pop, a little past half way. In response to Kim jokingly speculating it was either an avalanche or gun shot, my response of, “It couldn’t be an avalanche,” accepted the fact that we both knew it was the latter, but neither of us were too willing to let ourselves think about it any further.]

One day I mentioned to Kim that I’ve never been the spiritual- and meditation-type. She figured long workouts are probably my form of mediation. While we loaded our skis back into the car, having only exchanged a few words over the last several hours, I couldn’t remember anything that I had thought about over the entire ski (other than blisters for the last little bit). In fact, I don’t think I was thinking about anything at all. I was simply cutting through the black world before me.

I guess we all have our own forms of mediation. I’m just glad that mine gets me out of the house on amazing nights like this. I also realize how fortunate I am to have friends that will go night skiing and running with me (the gun shot would have freaked me out much more if I was alone!).

Crested Butte

Most of The Crew, but of course several important people missing.

What? Totally normal, right?

Blake during the calamari-Clamato challenge. He soon turned green, puked, then had to do a full nude lap in waste deep snow around the house while having snowballs thrown at him. You know, normal stuff.

Pretty much sums up the feeling of the trip....I don't think that makes any sense.

A morning quickie before work...

When I awoke this morning to a thick blanket of virgin white snow glowing under the morning’s full moon, did I think of heading into the office early? Nay. (yes, I did just use “nay” seamlessly in a sentence) Upon seeing the thin dusting of wet snow under the dull glow of the morning overcast sky, I thought of the possibility of snow being up on Black Mo. I scampered out of bed, grabbed a banana, yak trax, skis and way too much warm clothing and hopped into the car heading out to the promise land called Black Mo.

As I slid my way up and over Purdue Mt and up the sinuous road of Black Mo, which was yet to be deflowered by a snowplow, I reminisced of my first “attempt” at cross-country skiing. In this attempt, despite tremendous effort, concentration, and dedication to forward motion, I was rewarded with sliding backward. Needless to say, this debacle was remedied by the removal of my skis and good old run to the car. This walk down memory lane was soon interrupted with driving conditions that were ironically similar to my first cross country ski results, calling greater focus to continuing to forward motion.

Arriving in Black Mo, I found the conditions for which I hoped. Everything was white: a white blanket of fresh on the ground, the sticky white clinging to every inch of the bare trees and bushes, even the sky reflected this white theme (I guess a blue sky would have been more idyllic, but the uniformity of color is at least respectable). I popped on the skis and away I went!

I wish I could describe myself gliding miraculously down the trail with childlike giggles ringing in my glorious wake, but nay. I would say I was more similar to drunk adolescent trying as hard as he can to appear sober before his parents, all the while displaying a general underlying sloppiness accented with periodic disastrous stumbles. I would like to attribute my xc skiing impotence on the “hidden tire ruts,” but that would just be making excuses, even though there were hidden tire ruts, honest. My experience reminded me of my first mountain bike ride, but with less flips over the handlebars. Part of me was really enjoying it and another part of me was trying very hard to suppress the growing frustration with my sloppiness.

Sliding all over the road made me think about all the new activities that I have adopted into my life. All these first experiences proved very similar to today: enjoyment of performing the activity and slight frustration at my inability to actually perform the activity. Despite this initial inefficacy, there has always been something that makes me stay with it. For road biking, it was the idea of going fast and covering big miles solely under my own power; for running, it was to impress a girl (just kidding...) it was (also) to experience the simplicity of motion without any other machine and seeing how hard I can push; for mountain biking, it was to be able to experience this thing that everyone who does it loves; for climbing, it was to be a bad ass; and now for cross country skiing, it is to become an aerobic juggernaut (yea, I have now used both “nay” and “juggernaut” seamlessly in sentences). Regardless of the initial motivation, for all these activities I recognized the essence of “quality” for each sport. In this, it is my desire to truly experience the essence of quality (and be a bad ass, aerobic juggernaut, that under his own power can put up big miles enjoying what everyone else does, all while most importantly impressing the girl) that pushes me to keep heading down this (heavily rutted) trail in the opposite direction from my car until I get the hang of this, or at least stop falling down.

Leaving the snowy promise land and heading back into the muddy wet valley, I feel satisfied with today’s effort. While my form was sloppy, I did manage to move forward. As Bill Murray says, “Baby steps.” Now, while I sit at my desk, procrastinating real work, I am thrilled at the idea that I got to spend all morning in the snowy winter woods. This experience has left me with two final thoughts: (1) I really wish I had brought my camera, and (2) is it lunch time yet?