It's Spring!  The second weekend in May in these Appalachian mountains is a time ripe with the sweet smells of newness; trees leaving out, wildflowers popping in purples, whites, and crimson reds, teams of lawn crews buzzing through every strip of grass, private and public.  I should be stretching and yawning, waking from winter to longer days, warmer nights, bigger adventures.  I should be sneezy, sorting gear, making lists, tuning neglected bikes, looking at maps, and generally excited.  But a darker fog hangs around this time of year.  I can be irritable, edgy, manic, and dark, sometimes all in the span of just a few hours.  My body feels tired even when I take it easy.  I feel hungry, even after binge eating my feelings.  I sleep a lot but don't feel rested.  I drink tons of water and still feel thirsty.  I feel pulled towards the bars to drink alone, grumbling to myself in a corner, feverishly writing in a cheap journal.  It's how it has been since 2009.

My mother died by suicide a few days before Mother’s Day in 2009, setting off a series of events that included a quickly stalled new relationship, a lost job, bike rides with wild and violent emotional outbursts, friendships tested - some failed and some forever fortified, and an eventual escape plan that included a single-speed mountain bike mounted to the back of a dual-sport motorcycle.  I left Fort Collins, Colorado, and roamed my way west, visiting and riding places I had only read about in magazines.  13 weeks sleeping outside, scrounging for food, riding till exhaustion, talking to myself in a closed moto helmet, sleeping in the dirt, and trying my best to understand the nebulous emotional states of grief.  I allowed myself the time and space to embrace every emotion as it came my way, to sob uncontrollably, to scream at clouds, and howl at stars all for as long and as loud as I needed.  And to be on two wheels every day.

Since then, and to some degree even prior, all of life’s most cathartic moments have found me on two wheels.  Every spring, as wildflowers bloom and the fields turn a new shade of brilliant green, my body begs me to get out!  Over the years, taking the time to celebrate my mothers memory, always on 2 wheels, always alone, has given me a way to chronicle the year, to mark a shit anniversary with something to look forward to.  It's given me all the joys of planning a “regular” bike overnighter, with the special grief-induced caveat that “if I forgot it, I never really needed it” a mantra I have kept for most adventures.  Previous Mother's Day weekends have included longer 3-day rides, long-ass Rail-Trail slogs that emptied my mind, car camping near trails with the shred-sled and too much beer, mostly though, just a simple overnighter will do.  This year, an ill planned last minute sub 24 hour on an old fav, cheap ramen, instant coffee, and my black marble scribbling book would have to do.  And yeah, I forgot something, my sleeping pad, and I didn't care.  Waking up at 2 am, realizing I slept on the chapstick in my pocket, gave me a chuckle of resiliency - I was going to make it through another year.

Preaching to the choir here.  We all know the power that being on 2 wheels holds for such moments in life.  When we need focus in a world of cheap distractions, or planning to bring us the illusion of control, or to match our mental pain with something physical, tangible, or getting lost to match an un-ruddered emotional state.  A break-up ride, a lost job ride, a silent ride in memorial of a fallen rider, hell even an anger management ride so hard and fast out of the gate, redlining heartrates till you forgot what pissed you off in the first place.  Ive had all of these, and there are probably more to come.  The bike transcends the toy of youth, or the fitness of cycling, and becomes a true transformative tool to help us live through life.  The rides bring clarity, restore balance, and can help formulate a healthy response in a single sitting.  The body DOES keep the score!  I know mine does, and this year it was rough.  After a couple of years where the pain of loss started to feel like it was receding, and that I was able to face the weekend with more empathy and kindness for others on a journey of grief, this year snuck up on me.  Monday, I was cranky and sore, Tuesday I slept through three alarms and didn't care, Wednesday, unmotivated, and by Thursday I was eating like an absolute shit-pig all day!  DAMNIT!  While the body keeps the score of the traumas it experiences, it also keeps score of how you deal with those, and this year was no different - I knew I needed to spin my wheels.  But what a great idea anyhow, I mean, it's Spring!  The second weekend in May in these Appalachian mountains is a time ripe with the sweet smells of newness; trees leaving out, wildflowers popping in purples, whites, and crimson reds….