April 21st has this pattern of throwing weather curveballs and watching me scramble. Twenty years ago, spring lasted exactly one day before winter returned, sending me to ride the Pintler Passes as snow flew. That post also captured something darker... making budget cuts between cycling and food, choosing to drop my phone service just to keep riding. Priorities have always been clear, even when the checking account wasn't.
The racing bug was already biting by 2008, when I was eyeing Mat Seeley's inaugural Speedwagon Classic despite "truly miserable" weather. That same year I was frustrated that Missoula media ignored the Grizzlyman race. Apparently I cared deeply about race coverage back then.
By 2009, I'd found Devils Slide, putting in 6.5 hours and seven laps along the Snake River. Idaho treated me better than Montana's weather ever did. Though there's also a mysterious empty post from that same weekend... did I crash the blog or just run out of words?
Then 2012 brought philosophy: sunrises and sunsets look exactly the same, someone told me. Maybe that's true. And 2014 found me fleeing Hyalite's melting ice, that fragile relationship with winter on full display as we bombed downhill toward summer.
The recent years shifted focus. Two ghost posts in 2021: Meet River and honoring Snuggles' birthday. Then 2022's rainy Livingston morning requiring flashbacks to sand dunes.
Last year's surprise race signup at Silveroxx perfectly captures this date's chaos: unexpected challenges, Mo's mischievous confidence, my autistic brain rebooting at surprises, and her absolutely crushing her first race while I decorated the course with my body. April 21st keeps teaching me that weather, plans, and budgets are all negotiable... but showing up for the ride isn't.