Once again I can't quite figure out where the days are going. The mornings here in Steamboat have quite a nip to them lately, and there's already rumors of changing leaves in the higher country. Those are the conversations I don't let myself hear or become a part of. Real life and the aftermath of five months of recovery are starting to hit me smack in the face now. I so badly want to be a full-on freelance journalist, but that's relatively unrealistic at this point. I'm desperately trying to find something that will (try to) pay the bills, meanwhile trying to pursue this embedded athlete-journalist career. I know that time is the only answer, but the waiting is the challenge.
I've been spending as much time on my bike as possible. I feel that right now the woods, trails and being one with my body is my tranquility. I do most of my thinking during my rides, and they are very inspiring times for me. I think about life, my career and the current journalistic stories I'm working on at the time. I feel like I'm working overtime--getting to exercise, be spiritual and 'work' in unison.
I attended a friend from childhood's wedding last weekend. It was a small 'class reunion,' and the group of us in attendance had a great time picking up where we left off. Here's a picture of the old school crew.

Wow, how my life has done a 180, and I couldn't be happier about it. My days are full of work, and now I cherish my weekend activities to the fullest. Yesterday a group of us drove up to Seedhouse and mountain biked a trail in the National Forest. Ten minutes in we saw a moose, and later saw a few deer. The beginning of the ride weaved through an old forrest fire from '02. All the trees were black on one side and healthy on the other. The color contrast of wood, blackness and green grass was quite a sight. There were technical sections, short and steep climbs and plenty of beautiful singletrack. The end of the ride paralleled Hinman Lake. It was overgrown with lily pads and the banks were chalk-full of Columbine flowers and Wild Rose. The color of Columbines seen all around Steamboat is the exact color I think of when I associate the majestic bloom as our state flower. I get that puffed-up feeling of pride in my chest every time I see the gorgeous plant. I kept up with the boys well, and was more stoked than anything to be out enjoying our beautiful wilderness.

As always, the 4th of July was a huge day of adventures. I got up early and hammered up my favorite trail, Spring Creek, on my mountain bike. While the rest of the hooligans were tubing the river, I spent the day to relax and reserve energy for the evening and night. People started slowly showing up late afternoon, and before I knew it, the slip-n-slide extravaganza was in full force. The path was complete with a jump, which was appropriately named Brett's Jump. NO, I didn't get near the thing. Instead I worked on perfecting my blackberry and raspberry mojito featuring fresh mint and fresh-squeezed lime juice. Yes, they did the trick and then some. As the night progressed, my roommate Dan and I decided it was a good idea to cruise down the street to check out a band a buddy of ours plays in. Granted, I shouldn't have been on my cruiser, but I was, and what is done is done. I came into a turn with too much heat, locked up the brakes, my back tire skidded out on gravel and I was ejected over my handle bars and straight onto my head. This is when it might have been a good thing that I was tipsy. Needless to say I ended my night with a bloody, scraped face and a chunk removed from my knee. Above all I am most happy to report that I did no other body damage. I spent yesterday tending to my face and working on the six journalism stories I have been procrastinating on. Today, I wrote all morning and was already feeling good enough to take a beautiful bike ride on Emerald Mountain. Enjoy the pictures, and yes, I'm being good to my wounds!

I spent the weekend in Park City going to a wedding reception, riding mountain bikes and reporting for a story on the Shred Wagon--part of healthesnow.org. The wedding party was an overload of my ski racing past. It was great to see so many familiar faces who I haven't seen in years, but overwhelming to have to tell my crash story so many times over to most people who hadn't even heard I was injured. If it was up to me, I wouldn't have let anyone know. But word travels fast, and within an hour of the party I was being bombarded by concerned fellow skiers who hadn't heard the tragic news. I felt that it wasn't important to relive the event of nearly six months ago for the fact that I was standing in front of everyone, wine in one hand, smile from ear to ear, looking as healthy as can be. By the end of the night (which is always early for me) I was emotionally exhausted. I got to experience the Shred Wagon first hand, and I couldn't have been more comfortable and in my element. I went for a good ride up Park City Mountain Resort and saw a couple of other good friends in the area. On Sunday we trekked the wagon up to the mountains and took great pictures of it in its element at the summit of Guardsman Pass. On the way back to Steamboat, Nate and I stopped in Vernal to check out a spread of trails which are supposedly all the rave. We had a great time biking in the desert and owning it all to ourselves. I'm happy to have escaped the Yampa Valley for a weekend, pursue a great story for the Powder website, and romp my bike on some virgin territory!