Twenty years of March 6th entries and a pattern emerges... this date just refuses to be boring. It's like the universe decided that early March needed a designated adventure day, and I've been unknowingly obliging ever since.
Back in 2006, I was wrestling with website chaos and celebrating tele-turn breakthroughs at Lolo Pass. Two years later, I was weaving through Missoula like a caffeine-fueled action hero on my K2, then calling for three-hour road rides the same day. The duality of indoor training and outdoor dreams, all on the same date.
By 2010, I was dreaming of Canadian adventures and re-dos with better cameras. Then 2012 dropped me into a blizzard on my fatty, half-hoping to emerge near the Tetons. A guy can dream, right?
2013 brought cabin-to-cabin snow biking revelations... that beautiful philosophy of "poke and hope" that applies to trails and life alike. By 2014, I was shivering through the JayP Fat Pursuit, learning hard lessons about expectations at 4:20 elapsed time, then walking miles through unsettled terrain toward West Yellowstone.
Fast forward to 2023, and I'm writing poetry about riding through dark clouds feeling alive. 2024 brought unexpected epic rides and Marshall Canyon treasures. And 2025? Apparently I'm comparing AI assistants now. Even the tools evolve, but the date remains a checkpoint.
What strikes me most is how these posts trace a thread from wild west internet days to AI comparisons, yet the constant is movement... pedals turning, snow compacting, trails revealing themselves. March 6th keeps teaching me the same lesson: you don't need to be anywhere but the place you are right at any given moment.