Images from the top of Arizona.....7:00am 12/16. The lifts weren't running yet. The snow was freshly groomed. Not a sign of wildlife, but an pinkish incandescent sunrise. Snowshoeing up took about an hour of hard work, but it was worth it. The winds were completely still at 11,500 feet, and you could see the south rim of the Grand Canyon to the north. Then.....a 3 minute plunge to the bottom on smooth snow. It was a great start to Sunday.

4-0....

When my Mom turned 40 I remember it being a 'sorta roast' from her friends. Over the hill comments, ect. I'm not really sure why 40 is such a landmark other than it usually means you're probably starting to slow down mentally, physically, etc... Well I turn 4-0 tomorrow. According to female, African-American rappers, "Age ain't nuttin' but a numba".

Yesterday was a blur. I left Flagstaff with Rob at 7:15am. It was 2 degrees. By the time we started riding in Sedona it as just below freezing - much, much better. We had a great ride on the frozen red dirt, which gradually turned to sticky mud as we wrapped up the ride around 11:45am. A good 3.5 hour ass pounding was just what I needed. Then over to work for 3 hours, and off to do some X-mas shopping.

I got Bodhi and Jamocha out at 9pm for an hour bust-out in the snow. Bodhi, being the young pup he is, found a porcupine, and now has 15 darts in his nose and face. I pulled two out and he's about done with me doing that. We're probably looking at a vet visit tomorrow morning to tranquilize his ass and pull them out. These goddamn dogs are a blessing, and an expensive one at that. I love the little guy though. He took his punishment, and he hasn't whimpered once. Hopefully he'll learn.

Up at the crack of ass this morning (5am to be exact). Picked up Aaron and we drove 13 miles to the base of the ski resort. Strapped on the snowshoes and walked up the slopes to 11,500 feet in a little over an hour. I was soaked with sweat, but man - watching the sun rise over the valley was friggin' spectacular. Pics to follow this week. All of that for one 3 minute bomber run down the mountain on the snowboard.....it was fresh groomed cordury - perfect for long carving turns. Now - it's 8:30am and I'm done for the day.....done working out, and on to cleaning the damn house. Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean sh*t - you still have to keep the place respectable.

I'm taking the day off tomorrow to ski free on my birthday. This time I'm not hiking up for one run down. It should be a good time, but I'll feel like a sandbagger. There's some real soul food in earning your downhill run.

Finally - the Small Town Douche Bags are officially a team at the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo in February. We could be good, we could be marginal, but we'll have fun doing it.

Fryday bluddy Friday...

"It doesn't make me feel comfortable to see a guy walking alone carrying a shovel around the city. Snow shovels are okay, I'm talking about earth-moving shovels here. A guy carrying a shovel around at night has secrets, things you don't want to know. Carrying a shovel means that the person has either just dug up something or is on his way to bury something. And it's worse when you see the guy with the shovel walking around late at night, because then you know whatever needs digging can't wait until morning. If I was a cop I would probably get in trouble for profiling guys carrying shovels around because my only police tactic would be to follow these people until they lead me to the scene of their crime."

On another note, I won my 3rd consecutive racquetball tourney last night. I beat Paul the Caveman (He's hairy and he mumbles) in the final. He was pretty tired, and he didn't put up much of a fight. It's time to go pro. Semi-pro that is. Next league starts in Jan and I'm getting the upgrade. It really doesn't mean sh*t. Just better players, more responsibility to play and show up for tournaments, and a couple of free racquets and some shoes. All I know, is that its fun to play with the better players in the state, as it makes me work harder, and its humbling to get your ass kicked by the elite players.

Holiday Blues....

Three work-related holiday parties in 7 days has me about DONE with people I don't know very well, obnoxious food offerings, and free booze. As usual, none of this is about the spirit of giving. Then again, neither am I. I want:

This
This
This

Racquetball tourney starts tonight. I'm going for the 3-peat. On the line is a sweet Ektelon Racquetball bag. I want it, I need it, I love it.

Night Rider.....

That's my name. The days are too short. What's a self-professed addicted rider to do? Trainer- hell no. Rollers-not unless there's 6 inches of snowpack on the road.

I rolled out at 9pm to frozen ground, and a light dusting of snow. Traction was superb thanks to the flaky snow, and I climbed and climbed and climbed to warm up. At about 8,500 feet it was as if the last storm had laid a blanket of snow down. Instantly it was 6 inches deep, and as crusty as a high school girl's made up face. Rather than go back the way I came, I forged on. Ride - walk - ride - walk. Finally making it to Schultz Pass road. It was frozen like a skating rink, and I kinda skidded downhill for a mile until the snow relented.

Last Sunday was much better. Roadtrip to Sedona (I say roadtrip - but it is all of about 40 minutes). 58 degrees, sunny, and the red dirt felt like velcro. My new tire setup (Stans tubeless with WTB Exiwolf 2.3's) was amazing. Rear at 36psi, and front at 34psi. The only thing limiting me was my own fitness. We hammered off and on for 2.5 hours until I couldn't push the singlespeed anymore.

I'm committed to riding 6-8 hours per week. Not exactly road racing fitness, but certainly good enough to begin the state series in January racing mid-pack until I get my fitness back around April.

Check this one - My Uncle has become Mel Gibson. Not the racist drunk, nope - the Conspiracy Theory one. He thinks that 'secret societies' are convening to get Hillary into the White House. He isn't even a die hard Republican either. I had to laugh at that one. First - influential secret societies are typically made up of conservative white guys. So....I would tend to believe that these secret societies might be conniving to get, say, Mick Huckabee in office. Or maybe Ron Paul?

Happy f'n Thursday - and Fish - don't think I haven't thought about giving you sh*t about Jon Kitna's predicted 10 win season. Go Vikes...

Tribute to the last true stud of my lifetime..

Evel Kneivel died, age 69. Beat up, beat down, broke, spent, and in a hella lot o' pain. Maybe 6-9 months ago, USA Today did about a full page story on him. They listed the number of broken bones, successful and unsuccessful jumps, operations, and the fact that he was piss-poor now. He's also found Jesus through it all.

I saw this guy as an icon as a kid. His insane jumps televised on live network television. Crashes were as frequent as successes so you never knew if he could pull a jump off. The distances seemed ridiculous, the obstacles - too numerous. Cars, vans, trucks, lions, crates of rattlesnakes. Even at the end of his career he tried to jump the Snake River Canyon in a rocket.

There are a lot of young dudes doing incredible things on their motocross bikes these days. Backflips, crazy aerials, you name it. These are conditioned athletes on machines built for stunts. Kneivel? Rode a stock motorcycle with a reinforced frame which of course, severed at the welds several times. His suspension often kicked him up over the front end on a landing, and I would have to imagine that the vertebrae in his back were really what 'suspended' his landings. Crazy, crazy, crazy. Truly crazy. Look up his crashes and successful jumps on youtube and you'll see just how ridiculous this guy was.

Fortunately, I'm a pussy and I couldn't bring myself to the point of wrecking myself just to 'pull it off'. Kneivel was the guy I could never be - so even today I ride my bike vicariously through him, and when I see the next 6 foot drop in the slickrock.....I step off, walk down, and think "damn, Kneivel would ride this with a trike". There is nobody who had his stones, and there is nobody now who would even consider doing what he did for the money he made which by today's standards would amount to squat.

Mr. Kneivel - rest in peace

Another one of your fans

Key West is often talked up as the 'Southernmost point in the US'. Actually - South Point, HI is the southernmost point in the US. As usual, entrepreneurs have opened the Southernmost restaurant in the US, the Southernmost farmers market, and the Southernmost vegetable garden in the US. OK - I made those last two up, but I did see several shlocky signs that tried to capitalize on this. What this place is really? The damn windiest point on the island. Sustained winds of 35+ during the day. The surf was anywhere from 8-12 feet, and upwards of 30 on some days. Those giant windmills were a sign of times gone by - replaced by new ones that were about 2x as big - but impossible to get a good picture of. Even these had blades that were probably 30 feet long on each side.

That's my goofy ass on the southernmost rock I could find without getting pulled into the ocean. Next stop would be Antarctica unless you could paddle out of the current to Fiji. One other cool thing about this barren place? They catch trophy size Marlin from the cliffs. 1,000 pounders. There was a 35 foot cliff some goofball tourists were jumping off of into the clearest water I could see. However, the thought of dancing with a 1,000 pound marlin overrode my desire to make the jump.