West Los Angeles Life

If you know WLA you know this feeling.  Driving in this neighborhood is ill-advised.

A long while back I was asked to write about the neighborhood of West Los Angeles (WLA).  I've written several posts about it but never published them.  This morning I wiped the slate clean and am posting a bit more of a "journal" post because as I got to thinking about WLA I started to get a bit nostalgic about the transitions in my life that have taken place during my time here.  SO... I'm going to post some pictures of this place that is probably the least aesthetically pleasing in LA (yet somehow one of the more expensive places to live due to it's proximity to everything)... but you are also about to get a more predominant introspective post with no real extrinsic catalyst, so feel to turn back at any point.

When decisions are made, small or large it opens paths never previously available... and certainly not imaginable.  In the blink of an eye I have passed the one year anniversary of moving off the beach and into my tiny little studio within walking distance to work.  Due to this simple on-a-whim move my life gained at least 2.5 extra hours per day not sitting in my car.  For a single guy with no kids two and half extra hours per day can do wonders for your ability to aimlessly explore a neighborhood (and your thoughts).  I have met people I could have never imagined meeting and I've developed a lifestyle that I never previously thought possible.  I'm 32 but I feel as though I'm... well, I guess 32, but that number doesn't mean what it used to mean to me anymore.  In LA I come across people of all ages living the lifestyles I used to think were supposed to be lived by people of other age groups.  While this occurs everywhere... in MN I feel that there is a particular lifestyle that is much more predominant and in LA there is much more heterogeneity to the way people live.  These people that are doing life "differently" are happy.  I'm sure at times they are sad but they are also happy.  Just the same as people that follow a path within the structure of the culture they are raised.  While these maybe seem like obvious statements, my internal thought structure just recently allowed them to be wholly true and that more sincere open-mindedness has made me just a bit more happy.

Looking south from my apartment, nothing but more over-priced 4 story apartment complexes and 2 story mid-century aparments

Looking north from my apartment.  Just a half a block away (not pictured) is a McDonald's.  My proudest accomplishment in the past year is being able to count the times I've visited this late-late night stop on both hands.

From my front step a rare photo of Miley parked within view.  Off-street parking is so limited in this tight residential neighborhood that she is often surrounded on the street by 5-series BMW's and way too expensive for my blood Mercedes and Porsche's.

Reflecting on the past year I have done many things but more than anything I have sat in silence by myself in my apartment.  I have taken the time to listen to my inner rumblings/thoughts and taken the time to work through them in silence and meditation.  This year has made me a much more patient person, not so much in regards to my interactions with other people, but in regards to my own life.  This expanded patience has allowed me the time and space to reflect and connect on my own terms with the workings of the world around me.

Wilshire/Brockton... or any corner in WLA.

Now that I live on my own it is easier for me to see that the world can, and will, move on without me, and that's okay from time to time, all I need to do is re-introduce myself when I'm prepared.  I have often in my life felt as if I was moving at a pace that was maybe not the most harmonious with what I wanted, it was the pace that the world or culture wanted and I ignorantly submitted.  In the path and flow of my life (especially over the past year) I have realized, or come to grips once again, with the fact that each step and each decision is so much more complex than I could ever imagine.  I have read that the wise person must simply make a decision for what it is, a decision on the matter at hand, there is nothing beyond that decision.  I agree and am at much more peace when I live by this saying, but I continue the struggle of practice.

When asked if I miss the Manhattan Beach life of ocean views from my kitchen as I sip my coffee I honestly say no.  While that life was nice, so was the St. Olaf one, the St. Paul one, the Hollywood one, this current West LA one, and I can only imagine the next life I live will be quite nice, too.

Reflections of a Drug Dealer, vol.1

(C) Adam Turman;  www.adamturman.com

"I never meant to cause you any sorrow..."

I had a goal with this blog not to talk about any political topics and/or not to give any strong opinions about anything that might be a lightning rod for controversy or that could come across as trolling.  One of the reasons I despise social media so much is that it's often people just posting opinions and a quick stroll through the comments section will show you how little listening and compromising comes from these web based vehicles for information.  Often, in my opinion, these social media platforms have become a tool for isolationism and fear mongering on hot topics.  That's where I'll stop.  This week drugs have been heavy on my mind.  I'm a pharmacist so this statement should not come as much of a surprise.

The reason I write this blog is to respond to questions from family and friends... or give info about my daily life that might lead to meaningful conversation when we re-connect.  In the past couple months I've been thinking a lot about heroin and opioid abuse because of the happenings in the world as well as strong opinions I've heard regarding what to do about the abuse of these drugs.  Some family members made strong statements to me about their perceived ineffectiveness of methadone treatment clinics (which is where I've been spending a lot of my time over the summer due to an unfilled vacancy and another co-worker's unexpected sick leave).  Separately, a random conversation with a beach tennis acquaintance led to their opening up to me about their family member's death from heroin overdose.  Finally, a few weeks ago one of the younger patients at our opioid treatment program (OTP) left and relapsed.  When he returned as a completely broken person he told us he relapsed in order to use with his brother again, but this time the dose was too high and his brother died right in front of him.  Oh yeah... and Prince.  These are the things that have me obsessed.  I have no solutions just observations.  I think the conversations themselves are what's important and this is my hope from this opinion based blog.  From dissemination of true information and transparency I don't think we will solve the problem but be hopefully be better prepared to help those in need.

Over the past year or so I have fallen into a hybrid world of mental health and drug rehab within the VA, not so much due to having my interest fall into these fields/topics but more so that that's where the needs of our department have been due to staffing shortages.  In fact I have done everything in my power throughout my schooling and first few years on the job to stay as far away from mental health as possible.  My fear is that I would become too entrenched in the patients and their issues.  I feel that I approach life and relationships with a lot (too much?) empathy.  Sure enough, as I predicted, I have become deeply connected with the people I work with, both staff and patients, and obsess over their stories and the paths that have led them to the moment they are spending with me.  Let me tell you, working with a patient to help them through a diabetes diagnosis and medication initiation is much easier, in my opinion, than helping someone find the right medication or combination of medications who is coming to terms with blatant bi-polar symptoms or that is working through opioid addiction treatment.  None-the-less here I am working closely with heroin addicts and folks with mental health issues of all varieties.

"... I never meant to cause you any pain..."

Opioid pain killers.  Here's the culprit.  Why are they the culprit?  Who really knows?  Why can some people take them for years safely and others just take one pill from their dentist after a procedure then they are hooked?  It's likely because of their unparalleled ability to numb pain and dull your senses.  For someone not feeling well and looking to escape, whether it be from physical pain or emotional opioids provide an out.  Codeine, methadone, hydromorphone (Dilaudid), morphine, oxycodone (Oxycontin and Percocet), hydrocodone (Vicodin), fentanyl, diamorphine (Heroin) are all opioid analgesics and are given for good reason during surgeries and acute post surgical recovery.  Beyond the initial surgery and recovery though their effectiveness becomes a very debatable topic.  They don't fix anything but they do shut down or mask pain quite well.  Anyone that has taken one post-surgically can surely attest to this.  Pain, and especially chronic pain, is not very well understood.  So, we have a extremely strong reliever of pain, poorly understood pathophysiology of chronic pain, and the American belief that if a doctor prescribes it it must be safe.  These are the ingredients, in my opinion, that has led to the opioid epidemic that we've been experiencing over the past 15 years.

We as providers are quick to give a pill.  We as Americans are quick to ask for and accept a pill.  For anything.  There is plenty of blame to go around in the population based health perspective, but those that should not be blamed are the people that have been too uninformed or naive in regards to the nature of these medications and are now battling addiction.

"... I only wanted to be some kind of friend..."

Heroin seems to be the end all of most users that I come across in our OTP clinic.  So, what makes heroin different... and the same?  The reality is that heroin (diamorphine) is the same as the rest minus one metabolite it kicks off during metabolism, 6-monoacetylmophine, (6-MAM) which the other opioids do not produce.  This is the metabolite that gives the fast onset of action and euphoric rush of heroin that makes it more likely to lead to addiction.  Veterans that I've talked with in depth about their different experiences with different drugs state that it's a euphoria that can never be repeated.  An escape land that is so powerful it needs to be chased.  The problem with heroin (and all opioids) is that when too high of doses are taken too quickly the same receptors that kill pain also slow respiratory rate, often to a pace of death.  So, the people who have taken these drugs and have seen the other side of the brain that the rest of us haven't have certain experiences that the feel they need to get back up to... and the only way is to flirt with death.  They become very aware of the realness of reality.  It's terrifying.

"... it's such a shame our friendship had to end."

The list of people that have fallen victim of opioids is long and distinguished.  Prince, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Corey Monteith ("Glee"), Heath Ledger, John Belushi, Chris Farley, Janis Joplin, Mitch Hedberg, Jim Morrison, and sadly, etc.  From this list it appears that there is something about pushing the limits of the brain and human experience that has led them down this road.  A lot of us are significantly risk averse and prefer to stay within the margins.  We do what we are told and follow the path of those that were successful and healthy before us.  The ones that change the game and change our world tend to be the rule breakers.  Sadly the breaking of rules pushes into all aspects of their life and the reality that they live in is no longer livable and drugs end up being one boundary that they wish to push... but one in which there are irreversible consequences.

Gateways.
I quickly want to mention marijuana because of both it's place in media as more states legalize it as well as perspectives I grew up hearing and still hear as it's consideration as a "gateway" drug.  My personal opinion is that it has become a gateway only because it is lumped in with all the other drugs in the world due to naivety in drug and abstinence education.  For someone that was raised to truly believe it's "bad" just like all the other drugs out there, then they smoke it, only to find out it's not really addictive and not really that "bad", it might cause them to question what they've learned about every other drug, including heroin, cocaine, and meth.  "Reefer Madness" is a strong, albeit old and nowadays almost satirical, example of uneducated propaganda that could have an unintended consequence of disillusioning people that would otherwise be able to differentiate the consequences of various chemicals.  The lack of understanding of this drug has led to decades long delay in possible research and discovery of it's positive effects such as being a safe alternative in chronic pain, anti-nausea and appetite stimulant in cancer patients, as well as epileptic seizure prevention.  Don't get me wrong, I don't believe that weed is good for you and I think we are approaching a slippery slope with it's possible recreational legalization in many states.  Mainly I consider it a public health risk because of it's main vehicle into the body which is smoke.  Any combustion product inhaled, whether it's cigarettes, or a campfire is bad for you.  It's the combustion that leads to cancer, not nicotine and not THC.  Marijuana has it's own host of issues even without the smoke: lack of motivation, increased paranoia, and depression to name a few.

There are many challenges that lie ahead in the discussion of drug education in the US.  But let us not be so naive to the fact that of all the drugs out there, the most common one, alcohol, is likely the most costly and dangerous to our society.  The true costs of alcohol may never truly be known due to the driver of all things, $$$$.  The issue with alcohol is that we are all sheep, money talks, and any negative research on alcohol is strongly opposed by the likes of Anheuser-Busch and friends much like Big Tobacco did for decades.  At the moment, there is little to no lobbying power (relatively) for the marijuana industry.  Also, due to it's laughable federal regulatory status, conducting meaningful research on possible (and likely) positive medical uses, as outlined above, is extremely difficult.

Life or something like it.
So while I believe that if possible the best way to be is stone-cold sober there is no denying that we all have different chemical and hormonal balances in our brains and bodies.  We all experience different emotional responses to similar stimuli and sometimes chemicals help us cope with or heighten certain experiences.  To make illegal any mind altering substance would be ludicrous, instead, let us inform a generation and respect humbly the many ways in which drugs and medications affect us.  We smoke cigarettes, pop benzo's, have a glass of wine after work, get prescribed anti-depressants,  etc. all to deal with the stress of life or to change our experience of the moment.  Are any of these things, or the purpose behind why we take them, really so different?  Once again, let's understand the truth behind all that we put in our bodies and that in which our general population is exposed to on a daily basis.  Transparency and open dialogue can help inform and save lives.

Finally, if you ever come across friends or loved ones that are stuggling with substance abuse of any kind remember that research has shown interventional means of approaching these people are the LEAST effective.  Threatening legal consequence and isolating from a true family structure more often than not leads to relapse and continued hopelessness that the addicted mind uses as proof to continue drug-seeking behavior.  Instead consider first providing safety to the individual, then encouraging through positive motivation (of course while keeping your own physical, financial, and emotional safety the highest priority).  Love one-another, y'all... and try to be free of judgement, often we just have no idea.

Talk soon.

Calm in Chaos... on a Paddle

Getting lost on the beach with friends after a stressful Monday at work.

A lot of my interest in beach tennis stems from it's ability to help me get away from my daily thoughts and just be.  In all of the chaos that we deal with in our daily lives having this escape with the sound of crashing waves and sunshine has allowed me to be more calm in the face of stresses I deal with during the rest of my time walking around this crazy world.

I wasn't really looking for a new paddle... but at the same time I wasn't NOT looking for a new paddle.  A few weeks before my birthday I was browsing the interweb looking for some shorts and found myself looking at the Tom Caruso Website. On the cover page was there new paddle, the "zero".  The image caught my eye and the description by the artist and the company had me sold...

"The artwork is based on the company's philosophy, "free time is free, and that's it!"  It is inspired by the longing for the beach, sun, waves and freedom in a noisy, busy life in a big city."

-Shrijit Rajbhandari, artis

"In the lower left corner of the drawing we can see a character who expresses this wish (of free life) through a diagonal flow clearer than the sides.  Even if he is in the middle of a dark city center.  He flies with his mind transforming everything he sees into his ideal paradise.  Every little trace tells those passions that motivate us to face every new day..."

-TomCaruso.com

Artist's drawing on my new paddle.

... As much as I hate to admit it I am as vulnerable to marketing as the next guy or girl and this purchase is evidence.  While I didn't need this paddle until the company helped me realize that I did I can always carry with me the excuse that the accumulation of paddles will only make it that much easier to organize fun socials and evenings on the beach with friends that aren't hooked enough to buy there own.  So basically this whole purchase was a win-win... I now get to play with a paddle that defines my thoughts about the sport itself and I have one more paddle to share with friends.  

So I have extra's now... LET'S PLAY!

put a bird on it

Tilikum Crossing, Portland, OR

Over the past 10 years I don't know that a single person has ever said, "oh my gosh, Michael, you NEED to move to LA... you are SO LA!"  On the contrary I get the question, "Have you ever thought of moving to Portland?" about weekly it seems.  Often the question comes up in a conversation that has absolutely nothing to do with either travel or places to migrate to.  What's the deal?  I have often wondered why it's such a common theme and I suppose when you hang out with a lot of friends like this...

...hmmm... that one could be a little "LA" too I suppose which is confusing.  But for sure when you find yourself asking questions similar to these at dinner:

...and prefer biking over all other modes of transport, take the time to make single cup "pour over" style coffee every single morning, will only drink craft beer or no beer at all, and own a flannel for every day of the week, you (I) might be Portlandian.

The Deal.
A few months back I was looking through my credit card statements (Delta AMEX) and realized that I had a bunch of vouchers to use up and also a bunch of miles at my disposal as a result of having not used any over the past 4 years of exclusive spending on this card.  Having developed a strong sense of freedom and desire to travel close to LA I was able to get my old college roommate, Jeff Budish, to commit to meeting me for a weekend at my apparent Mecca.

The Timing.
I decided on this past week because it was my 32nd birthday last Wednesday and I've come to a point in my life where I don't really care about my birthday but realize that it's nice to time-stamp this space in time with some sort of diversion from the norm.  Also, last year my co-worker's subjected me to my first ever surprise party and inadvertently gifted me with PTSD for the foreseeable future... so being out of town was the best way to defend against that sort of non-sense.

The Couches.
When I road-tripped on my move out to LA I did not spend a single night in a hotel.  In Denver I stayed with several friends for a few days and in Seattle I stayed with a friend for a few days.  Besides those 4 or 5 nights of the trip I slept either in my car or on complete strangers couches.  Couchsurfing.com became this amazing network of some normal folks and some hippies that were willing to let me sleep on their couch for free as I passed through.  All that is really asked is that you be a good guest (no money is allowed to exchange hands).  As a generosity one usually helps cook a meal or supply a bottle of wine, etc.  Beyond that each experience varies greatly.  I was excited that Jeff wouldn't be arriving until a night after I was in town because it allowed me to reconnect with this community, albeit only for one night, in what I imagined being one of the best cities to couchsurf due to it's hipster dominated neighborhoods.  Things worked out smoothly and my host even sacrificed their evening to take me to a local dive when they found out it was my bday.  Friends were called, shots were taken, stories were told, and laughter was had.  Making new and unique friends in a random city was a wonderful way to spend my birthday and a great introduction into this city that I was quickly realizing was worth the wait to explore.

The following evening I checked into our airbnb and waited for Jeff.  When I was searching for places to stay I focused on 2 neighborhoods, SE/Ladd's Addition and Pearl District... the former being more residential and the backdrop of many "Portlandia" sketches and the latter being more of an urban or downtown feel.  I settled on the residential spot in order to make sure that I had to bike and walk as much as possible.  I didn't want to be too close to anything... except a coffee shop for early morning walks.  SE is green, quiet, and eclectic.  It felt much to me like a more expansive Linden Hills or Grand Ave./Highland neighborhood in St. Paul.  The shops themselves are more spread out through the neighborhood which makes me wonder how loose the zoning restrictions are in this city (late night food trucks take over entire blocks in the middle of quite neighborhoods).

Double doors with a movable table allowed for amazing cool evening reading/drinking/writing.

The airbnb we rented was all windows and surrounded by greens. 

I don't often take selfies.  But when I do they involve books, bikes, and beer... and not my face!

The Beer.
Portland is beer crazy.  Beervana as some refer to it is loaded with craft breweries and tasting rooms.  It is oft-ranked the #1 beer city in America mostly on the fact that it is home to 70 breweries... not counting their suburbs!  The sheer number of breweries creates an osmotic pressure into the community and you can't help but be swept up in the commotion.  There's beer (and cider) for all sets of taste buds.  And while beer aficionados can initially come off as pretentious, a little stroke of their ego can help them change their tone to be extremely helpful to newcomers on the beer scene.  This is key when exploring the beer menu for just the right thing at the local pubs.

Arrival dinner/drinks/blogging at an all gluten free micro-brewery... #onlyinportland

My favorite brewer of all-time, Deschutes... this pic taken from the bike parking lot in front of the main entrance...The perfectly placed beam of sunlight was an obvious call from above to enter.

The Coffee.
Because Portland is just a little bit of an undercover snobby town, and the fact that they have 164 rainy days yearly, they have a wonderful coffee scene.  I'm not sure how folks come up with these "10 best" lists that you see everywhere online and in social media but Portland is once again the usual #1 when it comes to coffee in America.  I had thought that the coffee was wonderful in Seattle and San Francisco during the small amount of time I spent in those cities.  During that time in my life I wasn't into exploring and learning about coffee when I was there so it's hard for me to compare.  I will say, though that anything "craft" in Portland is taken to the max.  Every coffee/breakfast shop I went to (10 in 5 days) had a different locally roasted coffee... that's insane!!  My favorite for sure was the Stumptown attached to the lobby of the famous ACE hotel.  It was a French Roast and was done as a "pour over" which gave it a big advantage since that's my favorite roast and my favorite process... but still, it was bomb, especially paired with a "kouign amann" pastry.

My kouign amann waiting to be devoured on the hipster table in the front lounge of Ace Hotel... this was my favorite coffee hangout of the week.

The BIKING!
Minneapolis is proud of it's growing network of bicycle highways and bike lanes.  Minneapolis is also where I learned to really love everything about the bicycle lifestyle so I'm a bit partial when discussions of great cycling cities come up... but bicycling in Portland is definitely a thing!  After my trip it has become obvious to me that the battle for bicycle supremacy in the US is real.  To be honest the race is too close to call but it's nice to know that it seems that both cities have had the right people in leadership to make it easier on bikes and mass transit users than they have on cars... let us hope that this trend of healthy urban development continues across other cities in the U.S. (especially LA).

My bike experience was the best.  I landed on Wednesday afternoon and took an Uber to a local bike shop where I rented a single speed for the next 5 days.  The guy at the bike shop fitted me to the bike and I was on my way.  5 miles and only 15 minutes later (that's a 30 minute commute by car in LA)...all by bikeway... I was at my destination... and so went the rest of my week.  Wake up in the morning and bike to coffee and read for a few hours, take the long way by bike to a lunch spot/brewery, bike home for a nap, bike to dinner, bike home, repeat.  Basically it was a foreshadowing of my life in heaven.

One of Portland's many names is "Bridge City" which reminded me a lot of Minneapolis and the bikeways crossing the Mississippi.

The Falls and The Ride.
On Saturday Jeff and I decided to have an adventure day.  I knew I wanted to get out to Multnomah Falls which I'd heard so much about and a bartender on Friday night suggested it to Jeff.  After breakfast at Broder's we walked back to our space and agreed that we were going to head there... but how?  I was set on this vacation being 5 days of biking only... and I wasn't sure that a 60-mile round trip bike ride in street clothes was something that I was up for.  We then decided this was such an important thing to see and that Portland is known for having such good public transport that as long as we didn't rent a car we could still feel good about it.  So, we Ubered out there with UberBike (an UberX with a bike rack... once again, Portland being SO Portland).  40 miles and $40 later were arrived to Multnomah Falls in the Columbia River Gorge.

Multnomah Falls

This is the proof that Jeff was with me in Portland... one pic... we are dudes and apparently dudes don't take a lot of pics while on vacation together.

We took our time on a 3 hour hike so we wouldn't feel like tourists hitting just the picturesque locales.  We were looking to get lost.  The hiking in the park was very low traffic and allowed us to easily disengage and enjoy the wilderness and then come out of the trance and dive back into discussions of life.

Natural misty filter on this pic of Upper Wahkeena Falls.

As we were finishing our loop, in true Portland fashion, a light drizzle mixed with steady rain began.  Knowing we had a 20-mile ride to the nearest bus stop we put the rain gear on, saddled up, and went on our way.  As we left I had no idea that we were about to ride on one of the most beautiful stretches of highway that I've ever been on.  I knew at some point through this lush green terrain along the river bed we'd climb, at which point we should have a spectacular view of the valley.  Unfortunately the rain increased and the heavy cloud/fog cover rolled in and visibility was minimal at best.  What I (we) didn't know that as we crested the highpoint of our ride we would come across The Vista House.  During the ride I was happy to  be riding in rain again as it reminded me of how hearty I truly am and how much I enjoy battling through the elements.  But, I was sad that we were missing out on views of the valley that I had been told were spectacular.  Then as I was in an internal pouty state we landed here...

Vista House at Crown Point... single speed accomplishment times 2.

... this unexpected piece of architecture was a good reminder, that it's not always about some far off goal that makes life worth living but that it's the journey, struggles, and gifts along the way to that goal... because what if we never reach our goal?  Was life then not worth it?  This was a welcomed reminder on this cold and rainy day.  Let's be honest if we open our eyes and accept the gifts given in life they can be much greater than what we could've hoped.

So, it's back to boring 70 and sunny LA.  I took a lot away from this trip on how I live my life and my immediate and future goals moving forward.  I'm thankful that Portland showed it's true self (cloudy and rainy) so that I could make a fair evaluation of all the pro's and con's it brings to the table if it truly a place I should consider making a final destination.  Holy shit "final destination" sounds way too permanent and scary... remind me to never use that phrase about a place to live!

Beach Tennis Post #2: Switch Hitting

My birthday blog... done in an hour while drinking a flight of gluten free beer in Portland.  #lifeisrough

"Goals are important.  Forbearance is also important.  But the very process of struggle is equally essential... Without it we cannot know any true meaning in our accomplishments."

-Deng Ming-Dao

This winter I started taking beach tennis lessons.  Thanks to Paulo and Krishna (my teachers/friends) I have had waves of breakthroughs and setbacks as I continue to learn more about this new game.  As with anything in life there is no actual "right way" to play (within a certain set of rules, of course) but there are definitely more effective and better ways to play.  Even more important is self-awareness in your own strengths and those of your partner so that the style of play you lean towards most effectively translates to success.  These lessons have helped me learn much more about the game as a spectator as well as player.  Watching a point now I feel that I am able to analyze and determine chances and percentages of success for certain shots based on player tendencies.  When I started playing, due to my reaction time, quickness, hand-eye coordination, and ability to read the court I developed a very defensive style of play.  If I was ever successful in a point or match it was because I would wear the opponent down and either force them into an unforced error because they grew impatient or put them into a position where they popped a ball too high into the air which allowed my partner to be aggressive/offensive and finish off the point with ease.  Here's an example of what I cannot do with my right hand (Beach Tennis Overheads).  I was/am what you would refer to as a grinder... ain't no shame in the game, as they say (do they?).  This style worked well but I felt my game had reached a plateau with no chance of improving.  Why not, you ask?  Because I was using my right hand to play, the hand I learned to play ping-pong with.  I spike a volleyball and throw footballs with my left hand.  I swing a bat and golf left-handed, play real tennis right-handed so that my backhand ground stroke is on the same side of my body as when I hit a baseball.  So... I'm a very confused racket sport athlete.

Why I picked up a beach tennis paddle with my right hand I'll never know.  I guess at the beginning it was easier to volley with and I had no perspective on how much I would need to use the overhead smash skill as I got to a higher level.  Also, I didn't think through if it would be easier to develop defense, blocking a ball smashed at your midsection, with my left hand (think of it as learning to play ping-pong with your opposite hand) or develop an overhead with my right (think of this skill as learning to throw a ball with your opposite hand).  Which would be easier for you?

Over the winter I trained and trained... and trained my right-handed overhead smash.  No matter how hard I worked I felt completely inadequate with my right hand.  Teams that were familiar with playing against me kept picking on me by lobbing the ball high in the air to force me to take a specific shot that I was not comfortable with and this became frustrating for me as well as my partners, I'm sure.  It was most frustrating to me because I knew how comfortable I was with overhead smashes if I could be using my left hand.

About a month and a half ago I reached a breaking point.  I spent an evening playing singles matches against Matt and as usual I couldn't take a single set from him.  He knows my game best as he is the person I partner with for doubles and also play the most singles matches against.  Over the past year we have played countless singles matches and I'm embarrassed to admit that I've never beat him.  We have played enough times and are at a reasonably similar level of play that it's mind boggling to me that not once have I gotten lucky or caught him on an off day.  I don't even need those things to happen, I really at some point should have beaten him, but it just hasn't happened, okay!?!  Well, anyway, after this last round of losses and a frustrating offensive showing for me in our previous tournament I was up late at night watching TV thinking about my lesson the following day and came to an epiphany... I am going to throw away the last year and half of training and switch to my left hand so that I can change my game from a defensive one to one completely dependent on my ability to be aggressive and smash the ball.  Yes, that's right, I lost sleep over this decision.

When I showed up to my next lesson and broke the news to Paulo and Krishna they didn't seem too excited, and why would they be?  Completely changing hands is crazy.  I think within the first half lesson, though, they saw my natural overhead motion and at least saw the potential to develop a game with my left hand... and they were probably also very happy to be moving beyond the incessant ambidextrous blabber that I was constantly subjecting them to.  Now my weaknesses have become my strengths and my strengths have become my weaknesses.  Once again I feel like a beginner and see a long road ahead of me until I return to the level that I felt like I was at... the exciting thing for me right now, though, is that the level I was at before no longer looks like a ceiling to me.  I am beyond happy right now to be learning, making new goals, and enjoying the process of struggling, opening myself up to failure and the satisfaction of true achievement.

...So yeah, I just posted that random thought publicly... and you read the whole thing!  As I reflect on what I just wrote I am having a hard time dealing with how I actually feel about it... not whether I'm lefty or righty, but that I took the time to sit down and write about it!  Should I be super depressed because I seemingly don't have other "more important" things to worry or waste my mental energy on.  Or, is it extremely awesome that this is what my life looks like at the moment!?!  Either way, it's what's happening with me.  How are you?

Dave, Gibraltar Rd., and The Alchemist

"And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it."

-Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

This started out as a post about parks and wilderness.  I had been forced to go to Yosemite by my friend Dave in January because he couldn't believe a tree-hugger such as myself had been in California for 2.5 years but hadn't ventured to one of the most beautiful parks in the United States.  I went, I loved, so I started to write about it.  As I began writing this post a few weeks ago a technician at work was reading "The Alchemist" on his break and we started discussing it.  I have been told several times that it's a life changing book but had never read it myself and honestly didn't know anything about it.  I did know, though, that Macklemore recommends in his love song to his child that he read it... so naturally, in my mind, it's already one of the greatest books of all-time.  I literally had no idea what it was actually about but was eager to find out how it would change my life as I flipped the first page...

...So the world works out in mysterious ways.  As I was getting through the beginning pages of the book I was finding that it was about a boy's journey for treasure.  Simultaneously, my friend Dave was in his first 2 weeks of what will likely be a 4+ month journey hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT).  So as I was reading this book I not only had my own personal journey in mind but reflected on the more literal journey that Dave is going through (of course projecting my own perceptions of what he must be going through without any first hand experience or conversations with him :) ).  So this post is an update on my week as well as a continued "wish you well" letter to him on his journey since I wasn't be able to be at his friend pit stop in Big Bear this past weekend.

Dave's going away party in San Diego.  March '16.  He's the one blurred out in red because he can't sit still.

The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho
Dave, this book was given to me but I think it's all for you.  For the rest of you out there that haven't read it I recommend it highly.  We are all on journey's within some aspect of our lives.  It may not be a full on existential crisis we are dealing with, maybe only within our career, decisions with our family unit, or working our way through our grocery list on a Sunday night.  But make no mistake about it we are on a journey through life.  This book is an ode to the journey, and our perceived goal of these journeys.  While the writing through translation (Paulo Coelho is Brazilian) comes through in English as rudimentary the clear and simple message resonates.  Follow your heart, listen to the "Language of the World", and stay true to your personal legend.  That's all I'm going to say about it since most people are firmly in one of two camps; either they really love it and find it to be life changing or they think it's too simplistic and full of cliches.  Books that polarizing are worth it no matter where you fall on the spectrum of enjoyment in philosophical literature.  It's also a super quick read so you won't have felt like you wasted too much time if you don't like it.  So I'll leave it at that and allow this to be a book that opens up discussion between us at a later time.

Dave.

"The boy went back to contemplating the silence of the desert, and the sand raised by the animals. “Everyone has his or her own way of learning things,” he said to himself. “His way isn’t the same as mine, nor mine as his. But we’re both in search of our Personal Legends, and I respect him for that.”"

-Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

I feel like I'm on a journey of sorts.  I mean, we are all on a journey right? But certain periods in our life maybe seem a bit more formative and this is one of those periods for me.  A period of discovery I suppose.  This friend of mine, Dave, he's soul searching too.  But the way his soul searching manifests it looks like he's searching HARD right now (or I assume so based on his nomadic movement around the country over the past year and a half).  I met him in LA in the summer of 2015 and since then he has lived in LA, Denver, Boston, Charleston, LA, San Diego, and now for the next four or so months on the PCT.  This sort of seemingly by the seat of your pants wandering is fun, interesting, and sometimes terrifying to be around especially for someone like me as I pride myself in stability.

This guy's got a lot of nicknames but I think he prefers not to be called by them so I'll just refer to him as Dave.  As I mentioned above he's the one that forced me into my first Yosemite trip so for that I owe him a ton! For the record he's also the person that wholeheartedly thinks there is no way I should be living in LA and that I should immediately pack my bags and move to Portland... maybe Denver.  It makes sense I suppose.  I wear flannel whenever possible, love craft beer and coffee, and want to live forever as a bicycle commuter.  I just haven't ever been there so it's hard for me to completely agree... and also, I'm super happy with what I have here... for now.  Dave always pushes hard for me to think of the final destination (whether intentionally or not) and that can make me feel uncomfortable.  I on the other hand push for (or at least TRY to push for) paying more attention to the process and not worrying about the outcome or goal.  The best way to live is probably some where in the middle, right?  Discussions with Dave are fun and intense, fun because we have such similar ideas and ideals but intense because I think we have different ways of approaching how to live within our similar value systems.  Life is too short to have friends that are exactly the same as you and always agreeable.  I'd much rather be in a discussion a friend with a differing Religious view, that I can debate and compromise with who cares about me despite our differences, than be an off the handle radical (left or right) that surrounds themselves in a bubble of like-minded people.  Dave and I aren't that different, really... just trying to illustrate a point here.

Dave (right) showing me and Joe around Yosemite for the 1st time.  Photo from the Tunnel View of Yosemite Valley, CA.

The PCT:
I'm not going to comment on this too much since I've never done it.  The basics are that it's a 2659 mile hike that takes you over mountains, through deserts, and likely into the deepest depths of your soul.  Many have tried and many have failed.  I have hiked parts of it while spending weekends in Big Bear, CA and the hiking is no joke.  In order to complete the entire trail you need to walk a marathon per day for 102 days...

...Of course this marathon is with everything you need to survive attached to your back and without a Gatorade station and medics every 4 miles.  Weather, injuries, and equipment malfunction can easily turn this into a 6-month ordeal.  Some of you know that I spent 6-weeks living in the wilderness of the boundary waters canoe area and wilderness (BWCAW).  I thought that was a wild time and intense adventure.  Looking back, though, I was with an experienced professor, had a 5 classmates to rely on for teamwork and sharing camp duties, and we had a field station to return to every 1-2 weeks to re-supply.  Wilderness experiences are fascinating to me.  These are the times, in isolation, with no outside communication when we find out what it truly means to be human.  I mean they are the basis of how we survived as a species for centuries and the nomadic version of survival that Dave is doing is truly inspirational to me.  To dive deeper into what Dave is going through start here:

Pacific Crest Trail Association

Also, for some amazing pics follow him on instagram (@pibbs or search for Dave Peabody)

My Journey... this week

Course Map for L'Etape California 2016

I had mentioned a month ago in my post about cycling in LA that I would be doing L'Etape California.  "L'etape" means "the stage" and is a known cycling term for the organized amateur preview of the Queen Stage of a professional cycling event.  The Tour de France previews their Queen Stage yearly and the Tour of California (America's largest stage race) has in recent years hopped on the bandwagon.  Well it happened this past Sunday.  So, I had been a bit stressed out (and also sick) over the past few weeks leading up to the ride/race because I knew that I hadn't necessarily prepared the way in which I would've liked... so that stress and anxiety led to me not posting for a few weeks.  During that time I would sit in front of my computer after work knowing I should be writing so I could post some stuff about my life, but I was too distracted by the feeling inside that I should be out on my bike that I couldn't type, and I was too tired from a cold or allergies to actually get out on my bike on a daily basis.  First world problems are the absolute worst!

Anyway, I like to think of my journey as a constant as well as recurring thing theme, every decision I make (or don't make) has infinite unknown consequences and life path re-corrections.  One pattern that has popped up through my adult life has been an almost yearly decision to sign up for some sort of race.  I don't really like going to the gym and I suppose these races keep me honest with my activity level and keep me moving towards a goal.  The races themselves and the training leading up to the deadline become little microcosmic journeys that create their own obstacles that I have to conquer.  The races also place my memories in space and time which I have found becomes much more difficult as I get older.  Oh yeah, and torture.  I enjoy torture.

So, out of shape (in the bicycle racing sense) I took to the start line with 600 other cyclists at 7:30am and stared down the barrel of a 106 mile race crossing 3 mountain passes, 40 miles of coastal winds, and the knowledge that I had never ridden my bike for more than 77 miles at one time.  "Why The Face" was I thinking?  The first climb out of Thousand Oaks over the Santa Monica Mountains and down through the Malibu Canyons was a quick and amazing reminder why.  Having a fear or anxiety, pressing through, and the feeling of coming out on the other side to me is one of my most favorite and exhilarating emotions.  As I descended down the canyon in a warm breeze with the Pacific Ocean in site I realized that no matter how long and difficult this day would be it would be done with a smile on my face.  This isolation in the mountains quickly turned into social hour on the first flat section as I scoped out riders of similar strength along the coastal highway to work with in order to reduce the wind burden along the coast.  Group selection was going to make or break my day.  Too slow a paceline and I would end up being stuck in my saddle for far too many hours on the day but too fast a paceline would prove much worse as I would likely burn all my matches less than half way through the day and risk not making it to the end.  I got lucky and met up with a group at the first feed station and we worked well together for the next 25 miles to deliver me safely to the turn inland where I separated from the group in order to enjoy in solitude and silence the rolling fields and greenery that is lacking in LA.   Once I got over Casitas Pass I had 23 miles of rolling terrain to mentally prepare for Gibraltar Rd which is an Hors Categorie (also referred to as HC or "beyond categorization") climb meaning it's too difficult to even fit on a ratings scale.  This particular road, that climbs to the top of the Santa Ynez Mountain Range, is 7.4 miles long at an 8% average incline.  As a frame of reference the biggest road climb in Duluth is 40th West (Haines Rd.) which is 1.8 miles at 6.5%.

Course Profile for L'Etape California 2016

Long story short, I made it to the top.  I had set goals for the climb prior to the day which of course all went out the window when I realized what it would take just to get to the base of the climb.  This ride for me was another reminder in a long line or reminders throughout my life that it's not the goal that is the most important it is the savoring of every inch of road along the way.

With my weekend journey (and month long training/stress journey) complete I was happy to spend the next 4 hours enjoying my treasure of cold beer and barbecue exactly where I should be after a Californian century.  At the Beach...

50 ft. from the official finish line of L'Etape California, Leadbetter Beach, Santa Barbara, CA

Dave, if you are reading this I wish you all the safety and peace of mind over the next several months and I'm sorry if I've projected anything about you inappropriately.  Please forgive me.  We, all of your SoCal friends, are proud of your journey no matter where it takes you.  (But I'm going to continue to ignore your texts because I wholeheartedly believe that to have the full experience you shouldn't be using technology to communicate with the outside world... that is, until your time through Oregon approaches and I need to start looking for flights to meet up with you).

My personal treasure will be found I'm sure.  I'll get there someday, and through reading The Alchemist, I've become certain that I'd never be able to get there without being here.  How can I be so sure you ask?  Because here is where I am and that means there's no other place I was supposed to be.

"...and when each day is the same as the next, it’s because people fail to recognize the good things that happen in their lives every day that the sun rises. I left my father, my mother, and the town castle behind. They have gotten used to my being away, and so have I. The sheep will get used to my not being there, too, the boy thought."

-Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

I stopped playing hockey until I moved to LA

I'm pretty surprised as I type these next 2 very unexpected sentences.  I'm at a bar watching a hockey game.  I'm watching a hockey game because I'm not at one getting ready to play in my men's league championship game.  Not odd things if you've known me over the course of my life but supremely odd if you live in my brain over the past 5 years.  Hockey.  It's what people I know talk about, especially people that know and assume things about me, and I like to be able to talk to people so I watch.  I suppose growing up as a hockey playing Minnesotan you just kind of expect hockey to be a part of your life... always.  On the flip side people expect you to care about hockey and I suppose I kind of do.  I have a tendency to ask myself often, though, why do we care about anything?  Religion, sports, politics, etc.  Most often we care because we are told to and are surrounded by a cloud of ignorance.  I'm not here to hate on ignorance I'm just saying.

My earliest memories are of hockey.  Video and pictures show me playing hockey from the age of 3 until I graduated college when I was 24...

The only thing I cared about at this moment in my life was the game and how cool each one of the Varsity players was.  New Ulm, MN, Winter 1989

... Twenty-one years of year 'round training.  That shit cray.  By the time I was done playing at St. Olaf I was DONE.  I'm not sure when it happened to me but I think it was in Juniors (two years I spent ONLY playing hockey between high school and college for those of you not in the know) when I stopped caring.  There was something about living my life on a bus playing a game and not really living by any rules that didn't sit well with me.  It turned out I liked school more than I thought.  At the time it seemed like a necessary evil in order to move on to college hockey and everyone else at my talent level was doing it, so I did it.  I tried hard and loved the competition but the continued indoctrination of hockey culture drove me absolutely insane.

When I received a call from a coach recruiting me to St. Olaf College I officially started my detachment from hockey.  The reason why/how a recruiting call could detach me from the sport I was being recruited for and simultaneously attract me to that same school was because of how little they talked about hockey and how much they hyped up the nerdery of the school.  I'm not sure if they got the memo on me or if they were just aware that they were a .500 team with a shitty rink and facilities, but I was finally happy that a college that wasn't feeding kids to the pros was honest with themselves and the kids they recruit about the actual reason they exist, academics.  I was ready for the full experience.  I was about to enter the real world and it would be best if I picked a school that prepared me for it, not just extended the illusion of a professional hockey career.

Following my last game as a collegiate hockey player (2008) I would skate only once a year if at all.  One year it was the pond hockey championships on Lake Nokomis another it was on the outdoor rink near my grandparents house in Duluth.  Some summers I would even fill in for a random team's league if they were desperate for a player.  I found my peace on the ice on my time... but I surely did not belong to any men's leagues.  I had taken the time to find other loves and hobbies like cycling and cross-country skiing and with this new awareness of "other" there was no looking back.

When I moved to Los Angeles in 2013 the last thing on my mind was packing my hockey equipment into my car.  I already had my bikes on top and besides clothes I thought nothing else mattered.

#nadaworry and surely not one about hockey.

It was a big space saver and obvious leave behind as I packed my Subaru for the trip out west.  The entire reason I moved out here was because back home I had a path laid in front of me that I wanted to veer off from.  I was offered jobs in Minneapolis and Wisconsin, but they were what I knew.  They were jobs I was told I would do well in, in places I would do well in.  But I didn't know about other places and other things.  I had begun in my adult life to venture off course with purpose and LA was one more opportunity.  Hockey in my mind was something that needed to be left in MN, there were way too many new experiences to be had in this sunny new land.

Even with all this anti-establishment nonsense I built into my thought patterns, when I got out here I couldn't help but listen to my grandpa when he would continually ask me about hockey every time we would talk.  He would tell me that I need to find a rink and go meet some people... you know... good people... hockey people (even though I had already found a solid community of co-workers and friends of my girlfriend at the time).  I pushed back but eventually had my parents ship my gear out.  Next thing I know I'm sitting at a rink in Culver City asking random dudes if they'll let me play on their team.  I made the cut at the Culver City league.  In the locker room after a few games one of the guys said they had another team in a little bit more competitive league and were wondering if I would join that too.  2 games in one week?  Seemed a bit excessive but I said I'd be happy to try it out and then decide later on which one I would stick with...

This other league was a bit of a drive from Hollywood (15 miles and 45 minutes if there was traffic) but it was at the Toyota Sports Center which is the practice rink of the LA Kings.  It's located right by LAX and very close to Manhattan Beach which was super convenient for 9 months of my 2015.  It's one of the nicer rinks I've skated in and has a bar/restaurant between the NHL and Olympic rinks which makes post-game pop's and socializing quite convenient.

Toyota Sports Center.  Every Wednesday.  Puck drop 10:15 p.m.  

...On the night of the first game I showed up early to meet the guys.  As I was getting ready to exit the locker room and hit the ice a familiar face walked in and caught me WAY off guard.  The straggler that the guys were sure was going to show up but were sure he might be late was none other than my teammate and carpool mate for 2 years while playing Juniors in Billings, MT, Matt Charbonneau.

The Carpool, L to R: Matt, Brian Kaufman, and Me.  Billings, MT 2002.

Matt and I hadn't seen each other since May 11, 2004.  I know the date well because he, 2 other buddies, and I decided on that night (my 20th birthday) to drive from his house to a casino after having a few brews.  Our sober cab got us down there but before we could even hit the tables he and I were busted with minor consumption tickets (certain parties not to be named "forgot" their ID in the car and managed to escape the night with their record unscathed).  The next morning we had some breakfast, chatted about how we each were going to have to deal with this "minor" setback and then I went on my way.  That was it, somehow we had managed to completely lose track of each other's lives, then 10 years later we walk into the same hockey locker room in LA.  Turns out that early in the summer he was at his neighborhood bar in Hermosa Beach when some drunk goalie noticed he had a hockey hat on and was wondering if Matt was any good because his team needed a few extra skaters.  So that's how it happened, neither one of us knew anyone on the team.  Pretty wild.

At this moment probably thinking (falsely) that "I've still got it"

After 5 full seasons of men's league hockey in LA I've come almost full circle (okay maybe just partial circle).  I pay attention to how the MN Wild are doing and I even conceded a trip home this year to watch the NCHC championships at the Target Center to cheer on the University of North Dakota for the Klava household.  That's about as far as I've fallen back into the world of hockey but it's enough to keep me afloat in the conversation of the clan.

Hockey as a weekly activity in LA has turned out to be a surprise blessing.  I have a fairly big but very established group of people to call on outside of work when I feel I need to, it helps me blow off some steam in a way that men need to from time to time, and has reconnected me with a good friend.  Now that my original Cali-family (Mol, JJ, and Fran) has split up and moved on I feel comfort and at home in SoCal with my new one.  I don't tend to pay attention to holidays or milestones anymore but it's nice to have the Charbonneau's around for such occasions.  Looking back over the past 2 years at least I think I've spent every holiday with them.  That has been supremely comforting considering I'm not sure who else I would be spending those with, but whoever they are I probably wouldn't feel as comfortable around.  There's something about being around people that grew up in the same community of competition and that knows parts of your past that others don't that adds some level of comfort to your life.  I think this is understandable only if you've ever found yourself without family where you live for a long period of time.  We all need a clan and we come to it in different ways.

Here's the California Holiday clan on Easter... Ivonne, Duke, and Matt... with Trip and Molly not giving an F about the picture.

So, in the end I hold no grudges for the amount of time that I dedicated to hockey growing up.  It taught me a lot of valuable life lessons that I believe I'm able to translate to everyday life.  I think all competitive sports can teach you certain skills and all in all I'm happy with the people I've become connected with as a result of hockey being my main sport.  I just like to be a little "anti-" from time to time, okay!?!  I've learned through my re-connection with a sport, though, that what you think really matters just doesn't.  What I think matters for sure does not.  And in the end, what I think doesn't matter probably will.  The circle of life.

I love my bike.

"Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of a bike ride."

-John F. Kennedy

West Mandeville Fire Rd., Santa Monica Mountains.

In my opinion there is no single greater pleasure in my life than riding a bike.  As a child I think we all have experienced the feeling of freedom that comes along with your first bike ride.  From that point on we are conditioned to think of freedom and bicycle as synonyms... and pure joy follows.  My best memories with friends as a child and as an individual all involve bikes...  

My first bike.  Peugeot circa 1960's.  Also the first bike of my father, uncle, sister, and cousins... and someday my children.  I was hipster before hipster... check the rolled up jeans and checkered slip on's yo.

... To that end my best memories as an adult involve being with my most loved ones on a bike...

Of the many things people asked me about when I moved to LA, how I would be able to maintain my lifestyle as a cyclist was at the top of the list.  At first I firmly defended my ability to do what I want wherever I am and I was sure I would be able to ride more than I did in MN based strictly on the amazing weather out here.  After all I was only living 8 or 9 miles from work surely there would be an easy route to bike commute.  When I lived in Detroit Lakes I commuted 20+ miles each way on my bike, whats a few miles in some traffic!?  I was wrong.  Within a couple months of living in Hollywood I had found the volume of traffic at all hours of the day and lack of bicycle lanes within the city daunting.  I love urban riding and don't mind being around cars, but it's different out here.  Drivers are different and they have no respect for cyclists or bicycle commuters.  After some time I recognized that I was missing being on my bike on a daily basis so I made a pact with myself to at least park my car after work and bike commute or walk anywhere I needed to go.  It was a start.  I managed to become a strict night rider and even toughed it out through a few wheel thefts.

When I moved to Manhattan Beach biking became easier as I had safe access to the hills of Palos Verdes Penninsula.  Also at the time of my move I convinced 2 of my friends, Matt and Joe, to purchase road bikes so I could have some company.  We have enjoyed months of gorgeous climbs and amazing ocean view descents.  Even though my group riding has decreased my monthly mileage has stayed consistent.  I think I have them to thank for getting me hooked again.

The Switchbacks of PV Drive East... much more fun descending than climbing.

Moving to West LA has allowed me to re-connect with the mountain biker inside of me.  Road biking is all well and good but I love getting lost on a bike.  Not worrying about time, simply daydreaming and paying attention to the trail and trusting my instincts.  2 hours later I come to and feel unmistakably refreshed.  Even though I'm in the most urban landscape I've ever lived I'm only a 3 mile bike ride to a 60+ mile single track trail head...

San Vicente Mountain Park... "This is LA"

A view from Mulholland Drive overlooking Mandeville Canyon Rd.  LA, CA

The trusty steed atop Canyon Back Trail overlooking "The South bay" and Catalina Island.

Now that I'm 100% back into the swing of the bicycle thing... What drives me to continue in lieu of other activities?  Beach tennis is about to start getting in the way now that tournament season has begun but I've been mindful enough to set up a pretty strict cycling schedule to make sure I don't forget about my first true love.  

• Monday nights I spin.  1 hour of warm-up followed by a 45 minute interval spin session with some dude from Compton that knows basically nothing about cycling but A LOT about yelling and good beats so it works.
• Tuesday I spin... it's nice easy follow up and cool down from the weekend and the Monday night slaughterfest.
• Wednesday is Whole Foods hot bar dinner and Yoga night with co-workers in order to let my muscles recover.
• Friday... now that daylight savings time has come I have time to get home after work and grab my Mountain bike for a solid 1.5 hour trail ride before dinner.
• Saturday and Sunday Mornings are reserved for cycling and coffee.  I often complain about the beach tennis community not being willing to start playing on the weekends before noon but the honest truth is that I appreciate it.  Lord knows once I hit the courts with a cerveza in hand there's no way I'm leaving for a sufferfest on my bike!

So this crazy schedule and this post are all because I just signed up for and am looking forward to L'Etape California.  Every year the Tour de France (and now the Tour of California) shuts down its Queen Stage a couple weeks ahead of the actual race for civilians to tackle.  This year L'Etape California is a 105 mile ride from Thousand Oaks to Santa Barbara (Stage 3 of the 2016 TOC).  The ride/race will be punctuated by the famed Gibraltar Road Climb.  This is a climb that I've been dying to do ever since I was having to commute the central coast to help out with one of our northern clinics.  I would drive up Gibraltar Road every Monday morning as a way to give Miley (my Mini Cooper) her fix of tight cornering and quick accelerations.  As I was ripping up the climb listening to Jack White shred some ridiculous guitar solo I couldn't help but dream of climbing this thing in some sort of competitive environment.  I've done the famed Alpe d'Huez as well as Col du Galibier and Col du Telegraph on the tail end of an 80-mile day and now is my chance to have a ball and biscuit with what California has to offer.

Anyone that has ever ridden a bike with me knows that I absolutely love to climb.  When the road points up I'm at my happiest and strongest.  My hopes with this increase in training is that I'll find myself rubbing shoulders with Jens Voigt and Freddy Rodriguez on the final climb of the ride and put them into the hurt locker... unlikely I'll be able to hang with them to arrive at that juncture but just in case I'll be ready.  Along the way and at the sunset dinner on the beach I hope to meet some new and interesting folks to tell you about.  

Despite all the epic-ness that I love to take part in I will never forget and appreciate most the wonderful relaxing rides along the beach or through the countryside.  Some day when I am far too old to climb mountains on a bike I sincerely hope that I still prioritize a morning joy ride to grab a coffee and pastry.

"Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race."

-H.G. Wells