Tuesday, November 3, 2020

"Long, Strange Trip" - A Two-Wheeled Retrospective

 


*I started this piece way back in September after the latest shitshow provided by the year 2020. I had aspirations of submitting this to publications, but after some contemplation, I thought it was best to make this available for all, and what better way post this than on election day, 2020. Please enjoy.*

    


    I forge ahead with a slight fatigue in my legs and an unfamiliar burn in my lungs. The evening air is a comforting sort of warm and yet is weighted by the unmistakable smoke from wildfires; far and near. It is September, eight months into the year 2020 and the hazy surroundings and scorched Northwest earth are just the latest metaphor for a calendar year gone AWOL.

    Since relocating in February, living amidst the suburban countryside sprawl of Lake Tapps, Washington has provided a welcome nightly neighborhood outlet for this crusty mountain biker. Some rides are longer, some shorter, but none are any less meaningful than the last. Weary, weak and three days removed from the most bizarre of weeks encompassing a dangerously close wildfire and power outages. I venture out into the mystic summer embrace on my hardtail, looking for clarity in a nebulous atmosphere.

    The last burnt orange hue of a stunningly sooty Wednesday sunset melds with the deep cobalt of another day lost in the abyss of social, political and climatic chaos. With this creeping darkness begrudgingly swallowing today’s light, comes the hope of a new day; one without local wildfires threatening urban landscapes, global pandemics threatening human lives and a kind of stubborn systemic racism that threatens to choke out the very equality we all strive so very hard for. But alas, I suppose we can’t have all that we wish for.

Or can we?

    My headlight picks up playful bugs amidst a persistent smell of acrid smoke, the likely product of a now-locally infamous “Sumner Grade” fire. A blaze that caused the evacuations of dozens, tore through urban areas unlike anything anyone on this side of the Cascade Range had seen in some time and prompted the voluntary evacuations of many others; myself included. To say I was unprepared for such an unsettling and downright scary ordeal would be in contention for the understatement of the year and that’s saying something. The plume of smoke, while no longer visible, has been replaced by a stagnant smog of ash and burnt dreams which hung over the lake like a squalid blanket. Such an ominous sight would ordinarily be enough to rethink a neighborhood spin but if 2020 has taught us anything at all, it is to enjoy what we have in front of us in the moment because the moments that follow are never guaranteed.

    Sweat dribbles past my already-saturated helmet pad and slogs down my brow, a welcome feeling on this silent, late summer evening. A friendly wave back from a neighbor tending to her parched flower beds gives me tangible comfort in an intangible way. The distant greeting in this tight-knight community is reminiscent of the daily struggle we all face in this foreign reality of infectious disease, face masks, and distance that is now measured in six-foot increments. Family seem farther than I could have ever previously imagined. Friends feel lightyears away - yet reside within shouting distance. Internal confusion and emotional struggle are no longer just new developments but rather the new normal in the quarantine age. Yet, with these feelings comes the affable reality that this too, shall pass. I long for a handshake but a wave and a smile shall suffice for the time being.

    My journey conclusively takes me up Driftwood Drive, along the outer loop of Driftwood Point. I pass by two homes, separated not by just hedges but ideals as well. The first, flying a Trump flag proudly from the peak of its garage. The other, touting a campaign plaque in the front yard that cynically read: “Any Functioning Adult-2020”. Two family abodes, as far apart as the coasts that border the United States, and yet, part of the same intimate lakeside community. As I pedal past, I cannot help but notice the parallels between these displays and the state of our domestic society. The uncomfortable division facing our nation is nothing new, but like many facets of life in 2020, it has been thrust to the forefront of our consciousness, whether we were collectively ready or not. Like any great conflict though, there is always a solution to be found and the ability to coexist not as divided entities but as one neighborly tribe, gives me hope for a country that is desperately grasping for answers to the most troubling questions we’ve faced in years.

    As I take one last glimpse across the serene darkness of Lake Tapps, I turn onto my street and into the driveway. Swampy from the evening humidity, raspy from the lingering smoke and exhausted from a year’s worth of feelings and emotions spilled forth in a single neighborhood bicycle ride. With my steed tucked safely away in the garage, I catch a glimpse of a small cluster of stars shimmering in the pitch-black sky above me. Against all odds and beaming like a beacon of hope through the impenetrable night haze, I uncontrollably smile and stare.

    Was it yet another metaphor for the utter unpredictability of 2020, or was it just coincidence? I cannot say for sure, but if a star can shine through the heaviest late summer sky, and I can find a certain undeniable, perpetual clarity from an hour-long bicycle ride, I suppose anything is possible.

Ride on, 2020. What a long, strange trip its been.

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Therapy.

Two years since the last post on this here blog. So much has changed, I'm really not sure where to start...

   My son keeps growing in ways that simply amaze me, yet I experienced the loss of another son, and the subsequent depression that followed. The usual financial, marital, and work stress all have taken their toll over the past couple years. This modern world has a way of crushing you if you're not careful.

   Through all of this, I found solace in my bicycle. For a quick hour session, or half-hour pedal, I'm free of it all. Free from anxiety, free from depression, free from the weight of expectations to be a functioning adult. Some handle life better, maybe some mask it better. I handle it best after I get a little counseling from the cycle gods. 

   There's something very organic about being on a bicycle. Every event, every climb, descent, jump, crash, is all caused by a connection between myself and the bike. No motor, no electronics, no plugs. It's a very personal experience for me, much like what surfing feels like to those that do it. The time I spend saddled up to my bike is therapeutic and unfiltered. Whether it be my XC hardtail, my dirtjumper, or my BMX bike. The discipline may be different, but the stoke feels universal. There's not a lap I take at the track, or a run through my favorite trail, or a scrub at my favorite jump, that I'm not smiling. It's magic.

   I've made a point throughout my adult life that I wasn't going to use drugs, or turn to alcohol as a way to cope with hardships. I made a pact with myself to be clean. Some turn to these outlets for comfort, or as a means to deal with life. Some rely on prescription drugs to manage pain, be it mental or physical. I'm not a doctor, and I don't claim to have a cure for all situations, but I can tell you this: Grinding to the top of an impossible climb or scaring myself shitless on a descent gives me a high that surpasses any drug. Nothing compares to that feeling of the ride.

   The enchanting feeling a bicycle provides is never free, and perhaps that's the greatest part of it all. To get that high, you have to work for it. you have to push a little harder, dig a little deeper. Joints hurt, sweat collects like rain water, but the end result is unsurpassed. The destination is directly determined by the rider. I choose how far and how hard. No matter the path I choose, tranquility is waiting for me. There's a personal certain satisfaction in busting my ass for a view, or even a personal record, or a newly discovered line.The pain is always overshadowed by the experiences it fosters. 

    I truly believe I'm a better person because of the time spend in the saddle. I'm a better husband and better father for all of the experiences I've had aboard my bicycle. So, as I sit here writing this, drinking my beer and listening to my music, I can't help but feel a sense of calm happiness. Could be the high from the after-work Fall session this afternoon, or it could be the reflection on two years of life experiences, thanks to this blog post, and thanks to my two-wheeled companion.

Cheers,
-JRoy


Sunday, June 29, 2014

Visual Evidence




    What radness looks like to me. Shot last week with my iPhone and a basic bike mount, it's not much, but it hopefully conveys the fun I have down this trail. 

Location: North SeaTac
Date: June 15
Stoke: High


Enjoy the ride.
-JRoy







Saturday, June 28, 2014

#HeroDirt

                                                                     The good stuff.


    Ask any mountain biker in the good ol' PNW about hero dirt, and you'll probably see their eyes light up with nostalgic memories of roosting a berm or spraying soil on nearby foliage with a proper drift. There's no doubt, we here in the northwest part of the country are blessed with simply amazing dirt. Soft, tacky, pliable.... a Dirtfish's dream. Of course, even soft, plush earth has it's drawbacks, especially in a notoriously rainy region.....

                                                                         NW slop....


    It's no secret we get rain. Lots of rain, and when you add rain and soft soil, you get slop. This mud will get into everything, stick to anything, and turn the average trail into a ever-changing wipeout waiting to happen. Rain is relentless in this region for nearly nine months of the year, so unless you enjoy a short riding season, you learn to embrace these slimy conditions. It's also a fun way to re-discover your favorite trail, as well as learning to adapt to the always changing surface. Railing a rutted corner in the middle of a sloppy rain shower is more fun than it sounds. Remember, it all washes off.

                                           Learn new lines, use the ruts, and just have  fun.

                                                Soft like peanut butter, dries like cement

    I'd be lying if I said that enduring months-on-end of rain and muck in order to get my riding fix was all rainbows and unicorns. It's a pain in the ass, to be honest. the mud is hard on parts, and the constant washing breeds chain-destroying rust. Is it messy? Yes. Is it worth it? Hell yes. The skills I've learned in the muck can't be understated, and many of my most memorable runs down the trail are in the worst of conditions. Nothing like almost eating a face-full of slop 10 times, yet riding away with a smile that can't be wiped away.

                                                                 Nature's traction.


    It's all worth it, come June. When the air gets lighter, the puddles dry up, the sun comes out, and you're left with the Eighth wonder of the world. Pacific Northwest hero dirt. The above picture was shot with my iPhone last night as I was finishing my session. The cycling gods blessed me a moist day with just a touch of rain, knocking the dust down and leaving the dirt with traction like sandpaper. a truly (cliché) epic Friday evening of riding. Mother Nature's prize for nine months of patience and perseverance.

Enjoy the ride.
-JRoy



   


   

Friday, June 27, 2014

The Bike That Re-Ignited a Flame



Frame: 2012 Scott Aspect 40
Fork: SR Suntour XCM 100mm (stock- to be upgraded this winter)
Handlebar: Renthal Fatbar - cut to 690mm
Grips: Sensus Swayze pink
Stem: Raceface Ride
Saddle: Scott Aspect
Crank: Raceface Chester
Pedals: Straitline AMP
BB: Raceface DH
Shifter: Shimano 8-SP
Derailleur: Shimano Acera 8-SP
Brakes: Shimano
Brake levers: Avid
Chainring: Raceface Narrow/wide 32T (Single front ring conversion, 1x8 total)
Tires: Kenda Excavator 26x2.10 f/r
Wheelset: stock Araya w/ Scott ft hub/ Shimano rr


    This is the bike that allowed me to re-discover my love for everything bikes. This is also my "Weekend-warrior, Ridden-every-day, Beat-the-tar-out-of-it, Never-skips-a-beat" bike. I ride North SeaTac's finest singletrack twice a week and have ridden RedHook's Haul Ash road bike ride twice on this trusty steed. Judging by the spec list, I've added quite a few bits here and there since buying it new in 2012. I find it easier to upgrade as I go, rather than wait 20 years and potentially rob Fort Knox in order to have a bike I'm happy with. The common misconception in many hobbies including cycling, is that the more you spend, the better the product. Mostly this is true, but who has $3,500+ just laying around to throw down on a bicycle? I didn't. I also didn't just buy the first bike I saw. The internet is a powerful way to research, and with a "budget" bike like this, I wanted to be certain I was getting the best bike for my hard-earned dollars. Boy did I ever.

    This bike has never disappointed, not once. It is perfectly suited for the riding I'm able to access weekly, as well as serve as a temporary (fixie-build coming) road-faring cycle for two 40-mile epics.
Being from a BMX background, this was my first foray into derailleurs and suspension, so needless to say I needed a bike that would be kind to my amateur mechanical skill/antics. Again, this bike shines. No hydraulic this, or clutch that. All mechanical, user-friendly goodness. For me, at this moment, this is all the bike I need. Might that change down the road? Possibly, but in short, buy what you need to start, don't be afraid to upgrade/explore the workings of your piece. The knowledge gained will be invaluable. Fancy or not, the ride is still, just as bitchin'.

Enjoy the Ride.
-JRoy

For me, my love for writing, and my love for cycling.

The title says it all, really. I love bikes.

    Perhaps, trying to describe the feeling I get, sweating out an hour of pushing a motor-less bulky beast around town and trail to the average person would be a an exercise in futility. Perhaps though, there are a few who may understand, or maybe perhaps, you want to understand what it's like to push yourselves, working with and against all of mother nature's glory.

    I don't consider myself a "cyclist", I just love riding bikes. I love the feeling of freedom. The sense of accomplishment. The thrill of pushing myself to the limit, but above all, the shit-eating grin I get afterwards out of pure joy. Five weekdays of hard work and sleepless nights are melted away when I throw a leg over the top tube of my mountain bike and hit the trailhead. For that hour or so, I'm engaged 100% in the ride. Nature and I, working hand in hand for three minutes at a time down the North SeaTac singletrack, then back up the hill to do it all over again 4 or 5 times. Wash, rinse, repeat awesomeness.

    I ride trails, I've ridden the Haul Ash 40-miler twice, I ride bike paths, as well as the streets of Burien. Don't put me in a professional contest, but I have as much fun as a world champ from the seat of my two-wheeler. I don't consider myself a mountain biker, a roadie, a park rat, or a BMX hoodlum, although I've had experience in each of these areas, as well as others. That's the beauty of cycling, you can be what ever you want to be. One of a countless number of cycling sub-sections. Each different in their own quirky way, yet all share one common interest. The ride.

    I hope to convey on this blog, at least a sliver of what I feel on a bicycle. My experiences, exploits, builds and thoughts will hopefully shed a little light on what makes bikes so damn awesome.

Enjoy the ride.

-JRoy