Man I can be an asshole sometimes. It's in my DNA. It comes on fast and strong and before you know it, I've alienated my partner, the group, the team, anyone in striking distance.
Thank christ for dogs and their endless tolerance of shitty masters.
Although I'd love to blame my behavior on god, drugs, the Vietnam war, catholic school, the East Coast or high fructose corn syrup, the reality is I have no one to blame but my crappy, impulsive, procrastinating, low-blood sugar self.
And for this jerk, the root of my frustrations, the genesis of all that is dickish, manifests from simply feeling a loss of control.
It's really that basic.
When I feel out of control/a lack of control, I'm an utter ass. Which ironically makes me feel more out of control....which, you guessed it, leads to even more irrational and bullish behavior. Fuck me. That's why I solo a lot. Always have, no matter the sport. Works out better that way for all involved.
This past weekend was one of those weekends that went south before I walked out the door to head north (and west) Off to Utah one more time before this year's AZ300. The plan was to roll to Moab early, train hard for two/three days and then rejoin my people for two more days of fun, friendlies, Scamping and partying.
I have processed, reflected upon and distilled enough feedback from those I love and adventure with to clearly see that the big driver for me, in regards to feeling "in control"is rooted in two areas of concern.
Proper nutrition and proper planning.
This weekend, I clearly fucked up on both fronts!
First, planning. I have been so incredibly busy lately. This is good as the lazy days of being fun-employed and trying to decide what neat activity(s) to fill my open days with are long since past. 2015 hit with a fury and I've been busy with school contracts, board work and community projects. I'm also opening a new business which never seems to get enough love or attention. Add to the mix my photojournalism efforts and it all adds up to the need for 28 hour days and 9 day weeks....
Alas, there just never seems to be enough time to get it all done.
This push has recharged my professional mindset, my executive confidence and most importantly, my bank account. But as I've reengaged in the rat race, the balance and focus needed to keep my AZ300 dreams on the rails has been difficult to maintain.
A typical day usually looks like this....
Up at 430 am- coffee/read news/check email
This inevitably leads to mental engagement and inbox action in the early hours or Facebook bullshit.
By 530 am I'm at the gym. (3 days a week)
I toss iron for 30 to 40 minutes and then ride the bike for 60 to 90 minutes.
On the two weekdays I'm not working out, I use the pre-sun up hours to write. I try to practice my craft and work on future articles/pictures etc. I also try, with mixed fidelity, to hold myself to mindfulness and yoga exercises during these early hours, too.
At 715, it's time to start the daily, morning rituals- wake up my partner and check-in with the only person willing to put up with my madness, cook us breakfast, make fresh juice, feed the dogs, do the breakfast and juicing dishes, walk/run the dogs and as often as I can, accompany Rachel to work. Then, there's chores that happen depending on the day- food shopping, laundry, bills, errands,etc.....typical adult, keep the household going type shit.
I'm usually done with the morning stuff by 10am. I can do 9 if I adapt and hustle and cut out the gym. But most days, it's already ten o'clock when I'm starting my work day. Meetings, emails, computer time, phone time, more meetings....you get the point. Most days there are engagements and work related evening bullshit. I'm usually calling it quits and walking in the door at 7pm.
Rachel and I try to cook every night and with the return of grilling season, dinner is getting easier to prep. Repeat dishes, dogs, etc and I'm finally winding down by 8pm. An hour of couch time with my sweetie and in bed at nine.
And repeat.......Mon-Fri.
So when does the bike riding fit in? These races, future trips and expeditions.....they all grow from a love of riding my bike and being outside. So when does that all happen?
Well....sometimes at night. Sometimes in the early morning. And on most days that I don't find myself in meetings past four pm, sometimes in the afternoon. Springing ahead with the time change is a blessing that brings more pedaling opportunities my way. Being lucky enough to live in Durango means that if I can find an hour, I can ride- The goods are just too close to my front door for excuses.
HOWEVER, this go, go, go lifestyle also forces you to make the most out of your weekends (and like most people) I prefer to opt for more fun and less suck on Saturday and Sundays. But this is also when responsible people are often set aside time for planning for their week ahead- pulling gear, setting schedules, packing for that trip that mid-week, etc, etc.
And it is at this pivotal juncture that I often choose the fun over the forethought. In short, I've realized there's a direct correlation as to how much of a dick I'll be later in the week connected to the prep and planning I tackle (or choose not to) on the weekend.
There's really two frames of mind for the ADHD genius- now and not now. And so when the fun and beer are flowing, the trails are tacky, the river is up, friends are in town- whatever the parameters or persuasions, I often chose the now, over the then. But the choice to avoid thinking about what's ahead leaves me feeling out of control when that future present becomes the reality of now. I am not the "just roll with it guy" I actually only become the "roll with it guy" when I feel like I've got a handle on logistics and resources. I need to hustle in order to rest. I need to think through everything in order to think about nothing. That's how I'm wired and such was the case last weekend.
I chose to go to Moab the weekend prior which had left me zero bandwidth for preping for this week's Utah adventure. I originally planned on squatting in the Scamp thru the entire week. I thought DGO schools were on spring break....but my dates were wrong and the opportunity to work another week in Durango forced me from the field last Sunday night. Rather than squatting in the desert on a self-imposed training vacation, I was back at the grind and making cheese.
Jumping into the work week, instantly in the weeds and when I look up, it's already Wednesday night. I'm supposed to leave Thursday night with Bonecrusher and I'll be living out of his rig until synching with Rae at Seacrest Manor on Sunday. Needless to say, I did not do an adequate job of addressing my camping, bikepacking and backcountry travel/living needs before my departure.
I left home already feeling out of control. I wasn't even close to being set up for success.
And the ripples of that reality would send waves thru the entire weekend.
| Magic Man |
| Find the HAB and move forward. |
That's not say we didn't schralp hard and have fun. We got in a great training day on Friday. Thirty miles of technical riding, sand slogging and hike-a-biking north of Moab. Our goal was simple. Suffer and seek the sucky stuff. Find the shitty trails, the too steep, washed out climbs and in the hot mid day AZ-esqe temps rally hard. For me, there's no better AZT training (other than Arizona) than Moab. After working out with full bags for about five hours, we called it quits and headed up to Horsetheif campaground to bivy and prep for Sat. AM.
| Mussleman Arch is much easier to cross in the dark. |
Ah, the annual WRIAD shake out. I love and hate this route so much. I love the scenery, the setting, the scale. I hate the sand, the lack of H20 and the jeeps and tourists. Taking the good with the bad is all part of it I guess but man, I wish I could roll with it all better. Anger is a gift.
| The first rays of Saturday illuminate a red dot slowly pedaling around air traffic control's lofty perch. |
| Crushing miles at dawn |
Brief TR summary- We scorched the White Rim as it scorched us. We departed early (330ish) from Horsethief, road into the park, dropped the Schaffer switchbacks at 4:20 and pedaled the first 20 miles of the WR in the dark. Had an awesome day with Tom and we were crushing down miles. We were at Murphys by 11:15 and making the post-lunch turn towards the Green River by noon.
| Toasted on Hardscrabble |
It was freezing until 9:30 am. Then it got really hot. After lunch, we pushed hard to the top of hardscrabble and dealt with mega-sand from Potatoe bottom all the way to the split. Deeper bullshit than usual. Walked the final pitches of the MB switches in full sun and finished off the rim job- top of Schaffer to top of Mineral was about 12 and small change moving with less than 2 hours stopped-full bags and hot temps- fuck yeah, huge improvement over 2014!
Everything went swimmingly until that bullshit Mineral Bottom road grind. I know from past trips that I need a water cache after topping out the Mineral switchbacks. It's at that point that my 300 oz. from the day are usually spent. I try to adhere to a strict- don't cache in the park, don't use a support crew and definitely don't count on begging a random SAG wagon for water! So this makes a gallon or two stashed on Mineral Bottom Road at the top of the final climb out pretty essential.
Long story short- didn't stash the cache. Drank my last H20 upon topping out and had to grind that sucky 14 miles out MBR to Horsetheif on empty. No hydration brought on the cramps I had successfully avoided all day. Got passed by a group that was chasing us all day. Ego went nuts. The sun seemed to recognize this and turned up the late afternoon heat as I fought my way back towards Hwy 313.
The situation wasn't dire. I wan't going to die. I just had to deal with discomfort and the ramifications of my poor planning. The universe was bullying me and I was barreling quickly towards the "out of control" zone. Bonecrusher would check in and I would snap back. What an ass, Michael. That guy can squash you but he for some reason, he just rolled with it. Lots of time in the shit teaches a man patience and tolerance of weaker constitutions.
![]() |
| high and dry |
We were supposed to bivy up high and descend Mag 7/GBR/bikepath to town on Sunday. We were going to meet our people at Milts after finishing this training ride and we'd be at about two hundred for the 48 hrs. But unfortunately for angry Michael, plans change and the next thing I know we are headed south into town on Saturday night.
It's slamming in Moab and I'm fickle. Showers and food.....or at least a shower. Hit the grocery store by 9:50 pm-The City Market deli was long closed so the hot chicken of my dreams was just that, a dream. I opted for some bullshit to-go salad. This is were the nutrition piece continues to takes shape. After fighting back from dehydration I was now going to flirt with malnutrition.
Great choice after a hundred mile day. Instead of more food, I bought beer.
An asshole sits upon his poop-bag throne. A self anointed king of the Land of Dickdom. My lack of calories Sat. evening, too much post ride partying and too little post ride sleep have all conspired in transforming me into a royal shit show. When I awake Sunday morning, thing's continue to go downhill.....I find myself wishing I was alone in my bivy, relishing my post WRIAD filth with no one around to piss off. But nope, I'm in camp, everyone's complaining about their asses, their eggs and beets for breakfast and it's time to do the group thing....happy place, happy place.
I'll spare you the details but it wasn't until I destroyed some Milts hours later that I started to come around. Why I spent the morning riding many more miles, refusing to eat and take care of myself, instead of heading into town for some real food and a break makes little sense to me now.
It's really scary how when my sugars and food needs are out of whack, how ignorant and belligerent I can be. Additionally, not having a handle on my in-field logistics and backcountry resources only amplified my discontent. This maelstrom of issues fueled a perfect storm of a weekend ultimately leading to lots of contrition and "I'm sorry" conversations with those I love this week.
Piss poor planning led to a fucking disastrous performance off the bike. I was out of control. Not on on the trail...but in life. :( Tomorrow always gives us another chance to get it right. Always moving forward.
Okay, enough buzz kill reflection from this sad sack. Things are for sure good and I'm a super blessed human being. Here's more pics from a killer weekend:
| Breakfast of Champions |
![]() |
| First light gives us a look at these puppies that Spooner fashioned in the dark. Nice work! |
| rim job |
| making the turn |
| Rackerman, Chuck Norris and Spooner 1 |
![]() |
| Extra large, greasy American food....yes please, with bacon!!!! |
![]() |
| Back in Durango, reflecting on the week ahead and enjoying some "me time" on the Colorado Trail 3/26/15. Feeling better already! I'm focused on packing this weekend for AZ :) |






































