I didn't ride my bike today. I worked a 12-hour shift in the cement box. Then I spent an hour at the gym running on the elliptical trainer. It said I burned 818 calories, but I don't know what that means. You can't measure that in elevation or miles. If you measured it in Pepsi, that would mean I get to drink six cans of Pepsi. Not that I actually believe those calorie logs anyway.
This picture is a couple weeks old, from a walk I took on the Spit. You're probably getting sick of my sunrise/sunset pictures. Keep in mind, when the daytime logs in at less than six hours, you don't see much else.
I ordered a load of warm gear online today. When that package comes, it will be better than Christmas - as long as the package comes before my credit card statement. People who knew me back in the day (five years ago) would probably be amazed at all the stuff I own now. My good friend, Monika, still remembers (and regularly reminds me of) the time we hiked Upper Black Box (a 14-mile-long slot canyon in San Rafael Swell, Utah, with hiking that consists of long intervals of swimming, walking in ankle to chest-deep water, and Class 4+ to low-5s scrambling.) I wore boot-cut jeans, a Gap T-shirt, and the same pair of Sketchers I regularly wore to work, complete with three-inch-high soles (remember when those were popular?) She'll never let me live it down.
But, back then, I didn't own a stitch of clothing that wasen't made of cotton. I had a designated snowboarding outfit and a pair of hiking boots. I reused the same Evian 1-liter bottles to carry my water. I layered white gym socks if my feet were cold. I hiked the craggy, 11,000-foot peaks of the Wasatch with the same backpack I carried my high school books in. And I was happy then, content. What happened?
Well, I started biking. Then I moved to Alaska. Now I'm on back order for a pair of lightweight trail-running boots rated to -20 degrees. What is the world coming to?