April 8th seems to have a knack for revealing my ongoing battle with... well, everything. From conquering two races in 2002 while offline (pre-internet life, imagine that) to dancing with death crosses on Evaro Pass in 2005, this date apparently specializes in adrenaline.
But it's not all heart-pounding adventure. Break Espresso mornings in 2006 proved that even yesterday's scones have their charm, while 2008's 56-mile cycling epic taught me that sometimes the journey matters more than the grim riverside discoveries along the way.
Then there's the bicycle saga. Ghost Rider and Leader's sibling rivalry in 2009 convinced me my living room had become a two-wheeled therapy session, complete with jealous stares and mechanical vendettas. Maybe I was losing my mind. Maybe the bikes were plotting.
Fast forward to 2012's Nex-5n unboxing, when I discovered that cameras and sunsets matter less than the person beside you. 2013's brutal self-assessment blamed Porter, ice cream, and Bridge pizza for my downfall (131 training hours when I needed 200). 2014's fantasy Bozeman involved trams and fat bikes on every trail, a dream I still haven't let go.
Turning fifty in 2016 brought Mo's gift of a packable pillow, perfect for second-lap adventures. 2020's stargazing session ended with a camera bridge-to-nose collision (ouch), while 2024's Welcome Creek encounter spun a tale of Shadow the mountain lion and fever-dream companionship that tested the limits of wilderness storytelling.
Most recently, 2025's deep dive into oral health science proved I'm willing to fact-check anything, even dental care routines, with the thoroughness of a PhD dissertation.
April 8th's pattern? It's the day I face my limits, whether physical, mechanical, or dental, and somehow find humor in the struggle. Here's to confessions, conquests, and the occasional camera-induced nose bruise.