April 26th seems to have a thing for forced choices and weather drama. Back in 2003, rain pinned me inside all day, leading to that classic pre-dawn panic: mountain bike race or Escarpment trail hike? The NE Championship series hung in the balance, along with my tolerance for cold mud versus messy trails. Spoiler: I never did say what I chose.
Fast forward to 2012, and I'm dream-driving to Missoula at sunrise, waking to gathering clouds before a bikepacking trip. "Alone training," I called it... preparing for the Tour Divide while snow threatened overhead. Same date, same weather uncertainty, different stakes. By 2014, I'm actually waiting in my car watching a storm roll over Lewis and Clark Caverns, ready to test new bike parts on sandy trails. The pattern holds.
Then there's 2013's zen koan ("I can not remember where I am confused!") and 2018's moving-day puzzle metaphor... both about making sense of clutter when you just want to get on with it. 2022 found me flashbacking to warmer times while watching it snow in Livingston, because of course it was.
Most recently, 2023 delivered the perfect encapsulation: sublime Missoula sunsets contrasted with gas station plumber's crack. The butt cracks of life juxtaposed with majesty. And 2025's Mr. Bear human transformation? Perhaps the most honest admission that we're all just animals trying to figure out what to do when the weather won't cooperate.
April 26th keeps asking the same question across decades: what now? Sometimes you wait for the rain to stop. Sometimes you just go anyway.