May 2nd has a habit of catching you mid-motion. In 2008 it was 1:30 AM and the bags were finally zipped, bound for Boise and the Coyote Classic at an ungodly hour because, apparently, pride in early rising is a competitive sport among bike people. That same weekend someone else was doing the photography justice, and Natasha's Speedwagon photos proved it.
By 2009 the energy had shifted from race prep to pure exploration, just getting gloriously lost in the canyons above Missoula and calling it a good day. Then 2012 brought a quieter kind of discipline, the daily ritual of bacon, espresso, and watching the sun punch through on schedule, which is honestly the most reliable event in any given day.
In 2013 the mind was still stuck at Window Rock Cabin in Hyalite Canyon, which, honestly, is not the worst place for a mind to wander off to. A year later it was time to physically pack up everything and hand it all off to Bozeman, bikes and books and questionable pharmaceuticals included, trading accumulated weight for open road.
Then 2022 arrived quietly, letting ancient petroglyphs at Atlatl Rock do the talking. And just this past year, a windstorm delivered a paper scrap and a reminder that the small quiet moments are stubbornly timeless.
May 2nd keeps asking the same question, in different handwriting: what are you carrying, and what are you ready to leave behind?