Is Spring Break Germane to the Unemployed?

Yes.

I worked harder, despite my unemployed effort baseline being disappointingly high. Every last screw in the house has been tightened, I sucked from the public teat for 3 weeks, and did 10 rides with the girls. 3 days of snowboarding and the trip to Sedona were restorative but not restful; driving is tiring, as are fear and stoke. I would have enjoyed another month off. I am grateful to have snuck in Wolf Creek and Highline.

It was all boot camp for 9 days of Xtreme parenting that left me sortakindawanting the relief of work. Not included in the pics below are soccer, the GROAZ Day at Somo, more soccer, and a marathon trip to the zoo.

Spring slush at Snowbowl for the kids, beers and laptop on the deck for me. I negotiated my salary for an offer while riding up the magic carpet with Alana while carrying an SLR. That has got to be some new kind of dooshbaggery.

rode the Hart Prairie lift and came down by herself. Not bad for a 7 year old on Day 7. I asked her if she could doo eet, she said yes. Her first run took 40 min, and she had “an epic wipeout”. She wanted to squeeze in 2 more runs, but only got one.

Next day in Mexico.

The jump line was still there, and The Guardian in his elf suit.

I scoped it out the first morning, on the Bird but only for recon with no pads or fullface. The dirt on the takeoffs and landings was much firmer than last time, but the wood was falling apart. Jump 5 had warped into a half bow and split the run in two, the droppin wobbled badly. So instead I came down the alternate 100 yard entrance of chunky sandy singletrack into 3 small jumps and the 4 big ones I tiptoed around last trip. I thought about jump #1 all evening, and pedaling over the next morning was feeling so groovy i thought i’d simply roll on up and send it. It still took 3 tries til i could shut down my brain enough. Just send it you dork. I was sure I’d wake up in a shitty mexican hospital, but the landing was perfect and half a second later I had to prepare for the big turn, the hipper at its exit, the next jump, and the next one, and keeping enough speed up for the next one.

Felt like more than 30 seconds.

The beach was sweet, chilly, and calm. We paddled a lot, tinkles took willpower.

Hash Run

I rode the fatbike. This terrain was awesome and joy and nerve-wracking, could not unlook it for a moment. I will come up with more judicious descriptions on future trips when i am not crapping my pants, assuming i do not first break my ankle and can upgrade my brakes to BB7s.

My tracks and the Ice Cream Man’s. It reassured me i was in the most efficient spot to traverse the beach.

Ice Cream Man is a sun-baked beefjerkyish dude who drags his cart for miles over sand. Sometimes I see him rolling up to Las Conchas when I’m rolling out. He doesn’t talk much and doesn’t waste a lot of energy and doesn’t seem comfortable unless he is plodding ahead with his cart. I understand, on long rides your equilibrium freaks out if you stop pedaling when your mind is intent on pedaling pedaling pedaling until you are finally done.

G gets a fistful of mexican coins and she comes back with some fewer and ice cream. I hope he overcharges us, or finds peace in honesty.

I spend some with Antonio, El Caballero, who likes my fatbike.