Twenty-one years of February 5ths, and the through-line is almost comically consistent... planning hikes I may or may not complete, questioning life choices, and finding unexpected beauty in the struggle.
Back in 2005, I was a temp worker planning a Stark Mountain climb while lamenting missed gallery nights and the lack of Super Bowl parties in Montana. By 2006, I was confessing I should be skiing while instead geeking out over fingerprint payment technology. Some things never change, the guilt of not being outside when I could be.
The Bitterroots called in 2008 as I prepped for three nights of cabin adventures. Then 2011 hit different, a solo Blue Mountain ride in shin-deep snow becoming a meditation on imperfection and character. That one still resonates.
2012 found me quoting Dylan about loneliness and connection. 2016 wrestled with feeling trapped in mundane routines. 2018 celebrated those magic hours of winter light that make the cold worth enduring.
The fat bike era arrived with Snuggles missing corners and questionable voiceover experiments in 2023. 2024 brought AI-generated mountain goats in tutus. And this year, I conveniently forgot my bike lock to steal one more ride.
February 5th, it turns out, is just me... perpetually torn between responsibility and the trail, finding meaning in the imperfect loops.