I could...

I could complain that I don't ride, hike, fish, camp, Nordic ski, or [insert outdoor activity here] often enough. I could wonder why I don't even bother leaving the roof rack mounted to the pickup truck anymore. I could admit that I'm burned out at work.

I could also just get over it, bite the bullet, spend the gas money, and get the fuck out of here from time to time. I could recognize that leaving the roof rack off doesn't mean we're stuck at home, it just means we're trying to squeeze every mile per gallon out of our car (and/or that we're using the floor-mounted bike rack inside the camper shell). I could start treating my work as "just a job", albeit one with some damned decent perquisites, and stop coming home zombified every night. I could get off this blog and go do something else besides dwelling on how monotonous life seems to have become.

Well actually, while I can and will log off, we can't just shout "road trip!" and take off because I have to be at work the first thing tomorrow morning. Lastly, I still haven't completely rid myself of the intestinal bug that's been dogging me all weekend.

Nevertheless, BeanSS and I have recognized that there's something really askew in our world, and once there's recognition, there can be action. I mean, we're free of bipedal children, own the gear, have any number of recreational opportunities within a 2-hour drive, and yet, we spend nearly every weekend entirely within the city limits. And sure, we're in debt, but who isn't? Besides, we managed to have all kinds of outdoorsy things going on when we were fist married, and back then, we had no money whatsoever. The bottom line is that we're not really enjoying the life we've worked so hard to create for ourselves, and that has to change.


So, keep an eye out for posts that describe the transition back to - and the events that characterize - what I call the "roof rack lifestyle". Just keep in mind that it could be many months before I can tell you about XC skiing around Tucson.

I forgot how tall I am.

BeanSS and I got in a nice, though short, mountain bike ride this morning, but damn if the wife didn't very nearly jinx the event by making a public announcement about it yesterday. In our household, a ride bespoke the night before often happens not. Maybe the curse has been lifted and we can henceforth speak freely about the plans we've made.

And sorry Veelz for not inviting you in on it, but this ride wasn't even a sure thing until we loaded the bikes into the pickup at zero dark-thirty. Its too bad, actually. You'd have fit right in with that geared heathen machine of yours, as BeanSS rocked her full-suss Rocky Mountain. I kept the faith by riding the Chameleon SS though I must admit, its an easy choice when my hardtail gearie has been sitting for almost 2.5 years without a crankset. Now, to address that issue about being too tall...

I haven't ridden my singlespeed since last November, but I thought my strong base of commuting miles, which includes a fair amount of climbing, would have helped me out. Nope. On any part of the ride where the trail pointed anywhere but down, I was dragging ass. I had no leg speed, and I just couldn't get on top of my gear. WTF, are there headwinds? No, it was calm. Brakes dragging? The wheels spun free. Riding in Jello? Just a little sand here and there, but nothing to suck at my tires. Oh, now wait a minute. I remember that SS ride last winter was the first with my new disk brakes and more to the point, the larger chainring needed to create a magic chain length. Only certain gear combinations will center the rotor in the caliper (front to back) on a Chameleon, and I had to go up by two teeth in front. Its hard to believe the switch from 32:18 to 34:18 - a taller gear by only about 2.9 inches - would have such an effect, but it did. Or at least that's where I've chosen to lay the blame for my weak legs. I'm quite sure it has nothing to do with the 15 or 20 pounds I've gained since my last race in early 2006.

What is else? Well, I'm hoping that two new developments have freed up some more time for riding. The first new development is the onset of the heat. Late spring is more like early summer in these parts, and high temperatures can end the riding season in Arizona's low deserts. For me, however, the heat is what finally sends the "good" birds upslope, well out of reach of my binoculars. My loyal reader (no, I didn't mean to say readers) knows that when spring birds are around, I let my tires go flat. Now, with the cool mornings no longer given over to scanning the skies for rarities, I can bike down.

Secondly, I can now actually bird from within the house, at almost any time of day, as two pairs of tyrant flycatchers have established territories centered on our yard. I've heard a brown-crested flycatcher (Myiarchus tyrannulus Müller) calling while composing this post. I had ID'd the BCFL a week or two ago by playing a CD of various flycatcher calls in the front yard. When the narrator called out "brown-crested flycatcher" and the bird's song started, I was unexpectedly dive bombed and shrieked at by a highly agitated, territorial male. I can also intermittently hear a pair of Cassin's kingbirds (Tyrannus vociferans Swainson) living up to the vociferousness stated in their specific epithet.

So there it is: morning rides, birding by ear at midday from inside the house, not to mention my favorite weekend, hot weather, slack-time activity - the afternoon nap. Things are looking up. And just as sure as the wild birds are driven from the desert by triple-digit temps, so too are the snowbirds. The Old Pueblo will soon belong only to the Puebloans. So Veelz, when does school let out?

Worn out

I've been feeling like these brake pads lately - ground way down and pretty damned ineffective.

Work has been a bit trying lately. Since January, my time has largely been consumed by this one mother of a project. I've been bike commuting as frequently as ever, and framing my work days with some pedaling action has helped keep the stress at bay. The springtime west winds, however, blowing as they do at 20 mph straight down the inclines on my ride home, have been trashing me. Finding passably smooth pavement in the face of constant construction on the west-side streets is also a challenge. And then there's the warmth - spring reminding me that summer is on deck. And while I bike to work far more often than not, I've only ridden a bicycle for fun once since New Year's Eve. Once. And I call myself a cyclist?

I actually can't blame all of this non-riding exclusively on burnout and fatigue, because its spring and that means the migration of birds to points north is in full swing. I've therefore been spending most weekends birding like a man possessed. No exotic destinations for me - no Madera Canyon, no Chiricahua Mountains, no San Pedro RNCA, no Sweetwater Wetlands (ok, that last one isn't exotic).

No, when I'm tired, and especially when gasoline costs what it does, its all about the "big sit" in the front yard. I fill the feeders, strap on the binocs, deploy the spotting scope, and see what I can see. And its been fairly fruitful. I've seen a few life birds and a some returning neotropical favorites. I nearly made it to 50 species in April. Nevertheless, the primary attribute of a long day of frontyard wildlife watching is sitting on my ever-more-doughy butt, and once the early morning hours have passed, and the wind and heat have kicked in, there's no motivation to bike down.

But things are looking up. After getting to the point where I could pull my commutant's brake levers to the grip and still not stop - nearly necessitating Fred Flintstone braking tactics - I replaced those worn down pads. When the wind became too much of an issue, I traded the pannier-equipped singlespeed tank for my stinky old messenger bag and a skinny-tired bike with 27 merciful gear selections and drop bars with which to bore through the gale. And heat and mosquitoes be damned, I've ratcheted up the evening backyard weight lifting sessions.

And then there's Clayton.



This handsome fellow is our new-as-of-late-last-year dog/son. I really shouldn't be saying he's new anymore - he's been with us for over six months and has immersed himself 100% into my and BeanSS's lives. And while we dearly miss Barnaby and Kona, Clay has managed to fill our hearts once again with happiness. Dogs rule, especially this one.

And with that I will end this post. After all, I've got to go to bed early if I'm going to get up at the crack of dawn, make a pot of coffee, plop down by the bird feeders, and not move one more inch all day long.