“Have no fear of perfection – you’ll never reach it.”
― Salvador Dalí
Today was a two-fer. I got out for a run today in the pre-dawn. I love running in the dark.
But was that enough awesomeness for one day? NO! I spent the morning cramming in desk work, with my reward being a short ride on the bike. Of course, I was already out and riding when I was informed of a conference call incoming. So I guess it was lucky I had on my headphones with the built-in mic. I took the call while riding back and forth around Miramonte Rim. Pretty awesome. I felt more unprofessional than I have in a long time, but really, the day was too perfect to not spend a little time out in it, in the daylight.
“The night is the hardest time to be alive and 4am knows all my secrets.”
― Poppy Z. Brite
Melinda and I hit it early today so that our husbands could go out later. Upon arrival at the parking lot, there was this man sleeping on the ground by his car. It gave me some ideas for providing a place for people to stay that’s not in the parking lot.
We had a fun climb up Pet-e-kes, crossed over to Miramonte Rim, rode it both counter-clockwise, then clock-wise. Both ways are super fun! We even had some fun working on climbing up some of the ledges- they had been easily manageable for us before, but after all the rain recently they’ve been rather washed out, offering us some challenges.
Melinda’s always nice to chat with so all in all, it was a good ride. I told Dennis I’d be home before he was to leave for a SAR training at 9. I know what you’re thinking: I’m an awesome wife. Well, it’s true.
“We shouldn’t be here at all, if we’d known more about it before we started. But I suppose it’s often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo, adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and
looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t. And if they had, we shouldn’t know, because they’d have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on, and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same; like old Mr Bilbo. But those aren’t always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we’ve fallen into?” ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
It feels so good to be home again, with the dirt and rocks and overall technical goodness rolling under my wheels, with Yampa the trail dog kicking up dirt in my face as I chase Dave down the trail.
I wasn’t perfect, but I applied my refreshed skills and felt confident. I didn’t go nuts trying new stuff, but I was happy. The sunrise was immaculate and I felt strong and that feels pretty good.