I never much cared for biking. It wasn’t that I disliked it, specifically; more that I didn’t care about it.
When my folks got married, they each had separate interests and hobbies, so they picked one to do together. I guess it worked, because thirty-four years later, they still ride their road bikes all summer. They have never ridden a tandem, another factor I believe has contributed to the success of their marriage. Continue reading “I want to ride my bicycle”
A few weeks ago, I casually mentioned to a coworker that I was an only child. He just has the one kid, so it’s not like this was a totally foreign concept to him, but he practically did a double take. Continue reading “No siblings, no problem”
A few weekends ago, I skied with my mom. We made the traditional bagel stop before hitting the highway, drove up and over Berthoud Pass, and parked at the base of Mary Jane. Eventually, I would demand we break for a giant brownie at the lodge. Everything was exactly like when I was a kid. Continue reading “Mom knows best”
As I’ve written before, I’ve spent a lot of the last handful of years thinking about death. Not in an abstract way—what is life; who am I?—but in an all-too-real, terribly concrete way: both professionally and for recreation, the pursuits I’m drawn to require us to undertake a great deal of risk, and lately I’ve read the accident reports of peers, colleagues, friends-of-friends, and role models who bore the consequences of that risk in the most catastrophic way imaginable. Continue reading “A mid-season reflection: What are those turns worth?”
Thanksgiving was never a really big deal in my family, which is perhaps part of the reason that—despite gluttony being my favorite deadly sin—I’ve never felt strongly about it one way or another.
Continue reading “A dirtbag’s guide to self-selected families”