Some dates just keep showing up, carrying the same restless energy across decades. May 18th has been doing that for a while now.
It started, honestly, a little rough. Back in 2002 there were two entries, both circling the same funk. Feeling Funky was barely a paragraph, a guy who hadn't left his room yet deciding to "start over" with the day. The very next post, Post Chat Blog, admitted that yesterday was still funky but at least there was laundry to do and a race in Connecticut to get to. Momentum, however small.
By 2003, the funk was traded for Vermont peaks. Abraham Mountain got climbed, Camel's Hump followed, and the whole thing was summed up in about three sentences. Efficient.
Then 2007 brought something slower and warmer, a day at Grandma's where the cookies and stories mattered more than any photograph. Summer arrived in 2008, quietly. In 2009, things got serious again with a big mountain bike weekend in Missoula, 116 miles across two days, dragging a tongue by lap three.
2012 was anticipation, pure and simple. 2014 was a move, boxes and hospital tests and waiting for winter to finally get out of the way. 2016 brought an actual attempt to save winter, a patch of snow rescued from under a boulder, only to have witches swoop down from the trees and take it back. Lesson learned.
In 2017, physical therapy and vertigo and the decision to go all out anyway. In 2020, a new town without tourists, a smirky elk, and the first fight of the new chapter. 2021 looked back at Canada, and 2022 declared last days with a certain dramatic flair.
And then 2025 offered something unexpected, Mr. Bear dreaming in watercolor, wandering quiet woods, asking big questions in small voices. Not a bad place to land after all those miles.
May 18th apparently covers the full range. Funky mornings, mountain summits, grandma's kitchen, sketchy trails, and stuffed animals with laptops. Sounds about right.