Twenty-some years of May 20ths and one thing is clear... this date has never once let me rest. Back in 2002, I was already juggling guilt over a sausage grinder at lunch and plotting my evening around Star Wars, GNC, and a pile of unpacked race gear. The pattern was set early.
By 2003, it was ADK hiking plans forming while I was still processing photos from the last trip. In 2004, I was eating quiche at the Raven Cafe and writing about whitewater racers tearing it up at Three Bridges. Different sport, same energy.
Then came 2008, writing from Missoula about the genuinely awesome people in the cycling world, including some who stopped mid-race to save a fellow rider. That one still hits. A year later I was hiking Waterworks Hill and waiting on a new batch of Carbo Rocket, cautiously optimistic about the weekend ahead.
The worry never really went away either. In 2012 I was lazily fretting about Round the Clock while Bozeman worked its charm on me. In 2015, the adventure was just packing the car for Lewis and Clark country. Simple and good.
By 2018, I had apparently eaten an entire flourless birthday cake and paid the price. Worth it. Then a look back at the 2009 World Champs, and in 2022, Mo and I were bundled up and riding out into the devil dust until the sun ran out on us. And in 2023, Discovery Ski Area at dawn marked the opening of another bike park season.
May 20th, it turns out, is just a snapshot of a life pointed always toward the next trail, the next horizon, the next reason to pack the car and go.