finally dug the mountain bike out, dusted it off, lubed the chain and swapped my pedals to flats. picked up jacque and warmed up for the season with 13 miles of forest road and 3 miles on the fabled wall of death. though it’s a pretty far reach for a couple miles of single track, from the last time I did it, I recalled really enjoying it. short, exposed and scary, but so much fun! I’m into the flats. fuck clip ins.

I was really stoked about the downhill. in a way, I am getting back on the horse that kicked my ass. when I fell last fall on my shoulder, I never really was able to get fully on back into biking before the season ended. rocks hurt. dirt doesn’t give, not like snow does. I think that’s possibly why I have always loved snow more. like this ass backwards confidence I have, that I feel safer clinging to a snowy wall with crampons and axes, over clinging to rock with my fingers and toes, even if there’s rope involved. I’ve never really been sure why I feel safer with snow and ice, than I ever have with rock. I am working on a personal theory here.