You’re always climbing in Flagstaff.
Anyone who has ridden there knows the first hour of the ride, at least, will be all uphill. You may get a brief respite during the twilight of your ride, but you’ll go back to town, take off your bike clothes, stow your ride away, and it’s all uphill again.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this because of some of the comments in various posts over the last few weeks. The idea of choosing where to live is a tough one, especially as you get older. Do you stay near the trails, and your friends, and the free-flowing booze, or do you move somewhere more affordable, where you might be able to find work and buy a house? Do you sell out for the job and the easy life? Do you drive to the trails instead of ride to them, because riding to them usually means you sacrifice so much in other parts of your life?
It’s a struggle I’ve had all my life.
So many times I chose where to live based on what I could do with my bicycle. Was this place close enough to trails that I could ride to them? Was there a bike community that was worth investing in? Can I get work in a shop if I need it? For perhaps the last decade, these are the questions that drove my decision making. Now I live in a place that requires me to drive to trails. It’s not infinitely beautiful here, and I don’t go downtown on a Tuesday night and find ten people I know who are ready to have some fun, some booze, and some talk about bikes.
I’m strangely okay with that.
I’ve had a chance to get to know my bike more personally since I’ve moved away from Flag. The riding I do is for fun, and even the fun rides stay FUN; no hotshot racers who pick up the pace to show off how they’re training to catch Lance. Just fun. Beers mid ride. Trails. Bullshit. Fun.
This is not to say, of course, that I don’t miss Flagstaff. I miss my friends there, I miss the trails. I even miss that big brown mountain staring at me from my back door. It’s an amazing place, but I got tired of climbing. I climbed on the bike. I climbed off of it. And I never got to the top. Never.
Some will call me a sellout for moving away, especially to a place that requires me to drive to trails. Call me whatever the hell you want. Call me shit-ass, but I know I wipe. I know who I am. I know why I left. Now that I’m gone, I’m doing the things I only talked about for so long. Yeah, I was THAT fucking guy.
Quick story about THAT FUCKING GUY: When I graduated from college, I had just finished writing my first novel and was working on number 2. In the meantime, I was waiting tables in a restaurant. On my first or second day in that shit heap of a restaurant in the Dirty Water, one of my co-workers—a generally nice stoner who was sometimes coherent—told me that he, too, was working on a novel.
“How far into it are you?” I asked.
He pointed to his head and said, “It’s all up here, man.”
I feel like I was that kid when I lived in Flagstaff. All talk, no do. Great plans, no follow-through. But the fact of the matter is, it ain’t a novel until it’s on paper, and you ain’t the person you want to be until you start taking steps to become that person. Put the fucking pen on a piece of fucking paper and push.
I will always love Flagstaff, but that place prevented me in a lot of ways from being who I wanted and needed to be. I’m not saying I’ve ended up in the place where I will become that greater person, but I took a step, and it was a good step. I am climbing again, but this time I feel like I might reach the top. I might find what I’m looking for. I’ll take a drive to the trailhead for that.
…gnomer…that was so ‘tongue in cheek’, i almost popped a molar…
who can’t see it? this DC thing is and always has been core to all that is dedicated to the pedal. recent posts and reactions are akin to corporate messages via a City’s Chamber of Commerce. this site is no tourist info clearing house.. is it BJ?
i know you know of this surly attitude of which i speak. readers here don’t have the context. you, my friend, understand and share some critical elements. keep it ugly, dirty, and honest. olde school is recycled and the most quality elements continue to rise above.
cheers. cr; rj; kc; yb, sg; jw; bh; bc; dr, ek; drangeousd; fn; nf; tm; jpr; lm; rg; bl; jo; cdr; sp; rb.rg; hstlokl; yermom.
…oh, my, listen to el gusanito mutanto…
…lot of us regulars don’t need to have lived or shared the arizona ‘experience’, to “…have the context…” to see that you’re a small minded, pissant, shit disturbing douchenozzle…
…your bullshit was called early & you got kicked to the curb, boy…but hey, it was a curb near the trailhead close to your house ‘cuz we wanted to make it easy for you…
…i guess you didn’t like that & now you’re so defensive that you’re making it personal & calling out individuals…
…only problem is, you still come across as a small minded, pissant, shit disturbing douchenozzle…
…imagine that, huh ???…
“cheers. cr; rj; kc; yb, sg; jw; bh; bc; dr, ek; drangeousd; fn; nf; tm; jpr; lm; rg; bl; jo; cdr; sp; rb.rg; hstlokl; yermom.”
–And a little for my homies who couldn’t be here. Did you just win a fucking Emmy?
D2, great post, sorry it’s turned into stupid chest pounding. People tend to forget that no one’s a local. Ever. Everyone moved to where they are from somewhere else. What you do and what you enjoy was made possible by someone else. Even if you were there in the beginning, someone else layed the groundwork. There is a group of people in most places that can’t stand that things change and people grow up, and that you can’t be hardcore if you do either of those. Flag isn’t unique in it. In Austin, you’re judged by whether you were here before Armadillo World Headquarters, the original Antone’s, or Liberty Lunch, or The Ritz (as a pool-hall) each shut down. And you’re a newcomer if you got here after any of those things. The recent closure of the original Emo’s will be one of those markers by people who are there now. They’re all moving goal posts that people who were here before that use to indicate how much better things used to be. In Austin, you can’t ride Forest Ridge anymore, but there are far more and better places to ride (some within a short drive, sorry Rabid)… There are still people pissed that this blog doesn’t have the porn anymore. Well, the owners and front-pagers have grown up. Y’all still ride bikes, you just have other shit going on. If the “hardcore” folks like rabid and elgruppo mutanto can’t deal, then that’s their problem.
I end with this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PoWMmZEoT84
Chest Pounding? As in Celine Dion?
Fuck yea.
@elgruppo mutanto
Fatty?
That’s all seriously earned muscle, Retard, feel free to call me out any day.
Fuckwit.
“Put the pen to the fucking paper and push.” Let the rest go.
…“Humanity I love you because when you’re hard up you pawn your intelligence to buy a drink.” – e.e. cummimgs…
…somehow, with some of the dumbass dick-swingin’ that’s been passing through a few these ‘discussions’, this just seemed appropriate to me…if it works for anybody else – hey, fucking great…
…if not, hey, so what ???…
“youth is wasted on the young.” lip up, fatty.
cheers!