All that you can't leave behind...

I always find it amazing how music can take you back… as poignant as a faint, but familiar, scent on the breeze. When I got home on Friday, Jack was playing U2 in the garage (because that’s all that’s good on my iPod, apparently :)). I really do enjoy U2, but it’s been awhile since I’ve listened to that album, and with it flooded back some of the best memories of my life…

Eight years ago, almost to the day, I was a happy 17 year-old kid, packing a suitcase for a place none of us had been. My life up until that point had been an incredible mix of highs and lows – but had mostly centered around the open gyms, cross country hills, softball fields, band buses, and freedom of one of the largest counties in Indiana. I had just returned from my first real overseas adventure, and although I had incredible time running around Madrid, Barcelona, and Paris, I had no idea what was in store for me in the coming month. No amount of map studying, e-mails, or information packets could have prepared me for the way my time in Israel changed my life. With my passport tucked safely in my bag and “All That You Can’t Leave Behind” spinning in my Discman, I settled down on the El Al flight and watched New York disappear into the clouds, not knowing then that I would come back to the States with a new passion for life and an emerging understanding of the world around me.

I must have listened to those 11 tracks several dozen times in the course of that summer. In my bunk the first few nights as the jetlag wore off, during ping-pong matches in the commons during our down time, while writing e-mails back home, on the coaches to and from all of the amazing places we visited that summer, while falling asleep on Asher’s shoulder as we rolled through the desert. And now, listening to them brings me right back there, and I can’t help but smile at the hundreds of incredible memories that link back to that album.

What I also find amazing is how much my life today parallels those best days of my life… new adventures, incredible friends, a shoulder that I can fall asleep on, challenging research that I’m passionate about, and a great big world that I am still only beginning to discover. I’ve varied my soundtrack dramatically since then, but I as I fall asleep tonight on this, the shortest night of the year, I can’t help but think that these songs will someday hold the same meaning as the ones from that U2 album. Life is good.

The Adventurous Life

Adventure. It is infectious, ingrained in my blood, addictive. Dangerous, awe-inspiring, heart-stopping, and refreshing all at the same time.

A million words could not describe the feelings that I have for adventure. In the end, adventure is my life. I survive with the basic needs of food, water and shelter, am blessed and my life is made rich by my incredible family and friends, but the challenges and adventures in my life are what really make me tick. It shows in my everyday life. Normally my ride to work in the morning isn't special, but when the winds whip down Apache Drive, I smile and enjoy attacking them with gusto. When I find myself having to do the same analyses day after day in the lab, I grow weary, but if an unexpected challenge or new finding crops up, I am instantly engaged. A weekend spent mulling around town leaves me unfulfilled, but a few days rocking down slickrock singletrack or standing on the top of a mountain refreshes my mind, body and soul. It's just who I am.

So, lots of things have been on my mind lately, and even more things have been on my schedule, so unfortunately my blogging has suffered as a consequence. But, I had to get back to let all of these crazy ideas floating around in my brain out.

Life in the past few weeks/months has been amazing. Since mid-February when I posted last, I have knocked off about 7 of the items on my list of 101 in 1001. I've completed a 24 bike race solo, climbed Weaver's Needle, hiked the Peralta Trail, climbed Baboquiavari (though we didn't summit, so it doesn't fully count yet), snowboarded in Colorado with my family in Winter Park, comfortably answered seminar questions at the MCB colloquium (100% better than last year), and mountain biked all over the slickrock with Jack in Moab. I would write about all of these adventures, but I'm afraid the post would be longer than anyone would want to read. Spending time with my family and friends in some of these amazing places makes my life worth every breath I take. It feels good to be accomplishing my goals, and the adventure of it all keeps me happy.

But, as many of you know... what my soul yearns for is the bigger challenges... the ones that strip life to its core, to its simple pleasures and pains, its pure, real, beautiful roots that are hidden in much of the padding of modern society. So, I have been thinking about the next big adventure. I will be (hopefully... research is fickle) graduating in the next two years. Once I graduate, I will have completed one of the biggest challenges of my life and will add three more letters to the end of my name. It will be the end of my formal education, putting me on the path to the "real world" if I so choose... moving on to bigger salaries, greater responsibilities, and (an unfortunate truth of living in the States) limited vacation days. And eventually, I'm going to find my perfect/intelligent/funny/adventurous man and settle down a bit and have some kids. So, I will need one more big adventure before I move on to those next chapters of my life. Right now, my mind is like a winter meadow - seeded with millions of ideas that are just waiting for the right conditions to germinate and grow into something beautiful. I've still got some time to decide and a ton of factors will go into the decision, but so far, here is the list of potentials in no particular order: Hike the Pacific Crest Trail. Hike or bike the Arizona Trail. Mountain bike the Great Divide Race. Assorted adventures in New Zealand. Climb Mt. Chimborazo. Indian Ocean Rowing Race 2011.

I almost hesitate to put that last one on there... it's a ton of money and I've already rowed an ocean, but gravity pulls me back to the ocean as much as it pulls the ocean up and down the shores. There is just something so pure and infectious about rowing an ocean that it will never leave my blood. Like the memory of a past love, the hard times are quickly forgotten and the joys of the time spent together are some of the best memories of your life, and if a chance to reunite with them comes about, no matter how insignificant that chance might be, it just makes all those memories come flooding back and the desire rises up again. The inaugural Indian Ocean Rowing Race will be starting this Sunday, and for the first time in my life since I learned about ocean rowing races, I will be not be in one of those boats. My muscles will not be propelling that dot on the ocean, instead I will be watching the representative dots move along a computer screen. Not quite as exciting, and although I am exceptionally stoked to watch others make history, I know that I am going to find it hard not to be one of them. It doesn't matter that I am having a blast at what I am doing now, or that I don't have the money, time, etc. to be out there at this point in my life. Some people have no self-restraint when it comes to buying too many shoes or eating too many cookies: I guess it's probably a good thing that my obsessions are a little bit more out of reach than the store or the cookie jar.

Alas, my ideas so far are just that, so don't go worrying just yet. I've got awhile to figure things out, and more will probably begin to populate that meadow in my mind before the spring of 2011. So until then, here's to the next batch of future ocean rowers, and to all of the adventurers out there!

24 Hours in the Old Pueblo... solo!

Alright, I'm going to try to start blogging again. It's certainly been a busy few weeks, but an incredible one at that.

Most of it, as I have said before, have been training for and/or thinking about the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo. My first solo 24 hour race. Although Jack tried to help me in saying that, "it's just another bike ride," it was my first >10 hour bike ride, and I had paid for this bike ride, so I wanted to do well.

I had ridden some great training rides with Jack, Hannah, Angel, and Zumbala over the last few weeks, and on every one of them, I tried to keep my pace/heart rate at what I wanted for HOP, and kept my mind trained on what I had to do to keep going. That said, I never did a 24 hour training ride, and I really had no idea what to expect.

So, when Jack and I rode down to the course on Friday night, I was definitely nervous. We met up with the team, who had set up an amazing camp full of space heaters and lots of food, and then hauled the bikes out of the back of the camper and set up our own little world in 24 Hour Town. The camper is absolutely perfect and we enjoyed a great, candlelit meal of pasta and spiced cider sitting in the warmth of the camper while the temperatures dipped below freezing. When we finally went to bed, my mind was torn between enjoying the last bit of respite and worrying about how I was going to fare the next day. The sleep monster finally took over and I slept soundly until the sun came up the next morning.

We awoke to a crystal clear, albeit cold, day and began it by eating everything we could get our hands on in anticipation of the long ride ahead. The morning was spent making last minute adjustments to the bikes, signing in, attending the preride meeting, and some more preride fueling. Before I knew it, the clock had rolled around to 11:30, and it was time to head down to the start.

Even though I knew I had 24 hours to race, my adrenaline was still pumping at the start. The atmosphere of over 600 riders and teams is infectious. I lined up about midpack for the LeMans start, chatting with friends and teammates in the final seconds. When the gun went off, I jogged with the pack for the 1/2 mile to our bikes and then fell into the swarm of riders on the pipeline road. My adrednaline was pumping like crazy, and despite my efforts to keep my heartrate down, I tackled the seven hills affectionately known as "The Bitches" with gusto. By the end of the hills, I was solidly in the middle of the pack and coasted along with the group to the beginning of the singletrack. Even though we were lined up like a giant snake, I was much further ahead in the line than I was last year, and we kept a pretty good pace through the first stretch of singletrack. The weather could not have been more perfect, and the riders around me basked in it while we shared in the great community of endurance mountain bikers. We talked about our previous races and what we thought of the 24 HOP, and how nice it was compared to last year, until at last we came out to the end of the Rattlesnake Trail, wished each other luck, and proceeded at our own paces along the jeep road. We spread out fairly well before we came to the His/Her Trail, but I was still on top of the world and feeling great. I fairly flew through to the Junebug Trail singletrack, and was happy to find that the spots where I had trouble last year didn't even register this year. Before I knew it, I was steadily booking it up the Highline Trail. Again, the hills that had so haunted me last year didn't faze me, and I reached the top in top form before flying down the last section back into camp. After going through the exchange tent for the first time in my solo 24 career, I stopped to suck down a Hammer Gel and got back in the saddle for a second lap.

The field was completely spread out by this time, and I rode the singletrack (first lap skips this part) to the bitches mostly on my own. I got passed a few times and passed a few other riders on the hills, but made it to the end of the first section still feeling great. I had the Corral Trail all to myself, and the combination of the beautiful surroundings including the snow covered mountains to the south, the sunny weather, and the speed with which I was flying, I was really on top of the world. The rest of the lap was spent in the same manner, and I was still overwhelmed with how good I felt even on the last climb. After my second trip through the exchange tent, I sucked down some more Hammer gel and some trail mix before clipping back in and heading out for another.


By the time I reached the bitches for the 3rd time, I was beginning to feel the effects of the previous 35 miles, but I still mashed up them with as much effort as I could. By the time I got to the His/Her Trail, I was visibly tired. My feet were cramping in my shoes and my rear end was starting to complain. I took a short break from the saddle by walking up the hill just before the start of that singletrack, felt better, and pressed on. The Highline Trail was much harder than it had been the first two times, but it felt very good to cruise back down into camp.


After my 3rd lap, I headed back to camp for some awesome pasta compliments of our team, Zumbala, rested a bit, and tried to get in our camper that Hannah had accidently locked shut. About 20 minutes later, Jack returned and broke into the camper via the emergency exit so I could gulp down some hot cider, grab a long sleeve shirt, put my lights on my bike, rest a little bit, and then get back on the trail. The sunset was gorgeous, but the absense of the sun made it cold, and I was definitely not very fresh. I walked several of the bitches to try to stretch out my muscles, and began to push myself mentally. By the time I reached the halfway point of the lap, I was bonking. I started wobbling on my bike on the flat sections, and dropped my gearing down to just stay moving forward. Riders were passing me left and right, and I wasn't even sure I was going to make it. Try as my mind would, it could hardly keep focused on the trail ahead, much less push my body to its best. I was contemplating how far I could make it when a light behind me failed to pass. I yelled back to the rider that they could pass, but the response was,"It's ok, I'll just stay here and stare at your a**." I was so out of it that it took me a few seconds to match the voice as Jack's, but in the instant that I recognized it, my world changed. I had been so focused on my own goal of finishing the lap, that I had forgotten about the rest of the world. We rode together for most of the rest of the lap, talking the whole way, and having my training buddy there really lifted my spirits and allowed me to push a little harder. We went back to camp together where I ate and drank everything I could get my hands on, and took a little nap in the camper. My little nap lasted a bit longer than I would have liked, and Jack went out for his next lap before I got up, but I woke around 1 a.m. feeling much, much better and ready to tackle the world. I hopped back on my bike for Lap #5 with a renewed sense of energy. That's not to say that the lap was easy: I still finished it much slower than my day laps, and by the end of it, I was exhausted again, but I got through it without falling off my bike. I came back to camp for some greatly appreciated hot soup (thanks again Zumbala!), talked to my teammates for a bit, and crawled into my sleeping bag without even talking off my stinky outer layers. Two more hours of sleep later, my stomach was not agreeing with the 24 Hour race format, and I woke up more due to necessity than desire. Since the port-o-johns were down at the lap start, I figured I might as well go back out again after I used them, so as the sun was just beginning to light up the race course, I headed out for #6. By this time, my muscles were shot, but my head was clear with the rising sun. In my rush to get out of the camper before I increased the padding in my biking shorts, I had forgotten my gloves, so my hands froze to my grips while I bombed down the bitches, but I knew that the sun would soon warm them up. I walked up the majority of the bitches, getting words of encouragement from the other tired riders that passed me. Once I finished with the hills, I looked around at my incredible surroundings with the sun reflecting off of the nearby peaks and I smiled in my exhaustion. At that moment, I felt so inspired and so lucky to just be alive in this beautiful day. I fairly flew down the singletrack of the Corral Trail, just basking in the morning. Once the inclines started again, my pace slowed down to what my tired legs could handle, but nothing could touch my mental state. Even when I got to the Highline Trail, I kept my mind focused on the next section of hill, and I was almost surprised to find myself at the top when I arrived. I got checked off for 6 laps at 9 a.m., which left me 3 hours to knock off at least one more lap, so I headed back to camp for an absolutely amazing breakfast of potatoes and eggs. It felt so good to see everyone in the daylight again, and knowing I only had one more lap had me in the clouds. I hung out in camp until about 9:45, giving me 1:15 to complete my last lap in order to come in after the 12 noon finish time. With the warmth of the morning and the excitement of my last lap, I jammed my legs into the pedals to get over the bitches and said happily said goodbye to them for another year. I spent the rest of the lap on an adrenaline high, so very happy to be completing my first solo 24 hour race. With reserves of energy that I didn't even know I had, I bombed up the last hills, bunny-hopped over the rocky section at the top of the hill, and cruised into camp as fast as I had during the first lap. I made it back to the end of the lap in 2:05, 10 minutes faster than I had anticipated, so I pulled off the trail with some other riders and waited for the clock to roll over to noon (if you come in before 12, you have to do another lap or be counted as DNF). Hannah came in about 5 minutes into my wait, so we made our way to the exchange tent and crossed at 12:03 p.m. 24 hours and 3 minutes after I started.

I had completed my first 24 Hour Solo mountain bike race. 7 laps, and 119 miles. Success!

We headed back to camp for a celebratory chocolate milk for me and Coke for Hannah, and Jack rolled in shortly after for his post-race beer. We all ended up doing very well. Hannah's 4-woman Zumbala team took 7th of 15, Jack and B.J. took 23rd of about 60, and I took 10th of 20. Overall, I was stoked to have just finished, and now that I know what to expect, I can't wait to improve. Keep posted for the next one!

Ok, so maybe not quite...

Well, I said that I was back, and although I really am back to the ol' grind here in Arizona, my blog postings have been less than stellar, I know.

I have been up to quite a few things with adventures, training for the 24 Hours in Old Pueblo, my research, teaching, and preparing for my comprehensive exams. Most of the fun things that I've been up to can be viewed on my Picasa site, otherwise I hope to REALLY be back to regularly scheduled blog posts in the next week or so.

Thanks for your patience, have a great weekend, and Go Cards!

I'm Back!

Sorry again for the long hiatus... been a busy, but awesome holiday season. A lot has gone on in the month since I've last blogged, but fear not, I'm not going to go into every detail of it. Just a Clif Notes version of what's been going on in the last month... I'll be back to regularly scheduled blog posts shortly.

I ended the semester in a great way, watching my little MBB245 students fret over their finals and then taking a hike up Brown's Peak for one last little adventure before heading off to Indiana.

I spent an amazing two weeks back home, where the temperatures fluctuated between -10 (with windchill) to 65. I actually really do miss the cold weather, so it felt great to get all bundled up and have to put shoes on.

I spent the first part of the holiday with my dad and sister out at my dad's new farm where we walked around enjoying the peaceful forests, eating beechnuts, and finding the perfect 16' tall Christmas tree (they always look so much smaller out in the woods!). It was the first year we've gotten a pine tree (instead of a cedar) since we moved to southern Indiana, and we had a great time decorating it.

The next few days were spent eating homecooked food (and plenty of deer jerky), visiting with family and friends, and curled up with a hot cup of tea and a good book.

It was great to actually spend the holiday on dry land, as I've spent 2 of the last four out on the ocean. You don't realize how much it means to you until you're thousands of miles away, and I happily took my post again as the Trash Monster at my Gran's on Christmas Eve. Everyone loved the coffee table book that I had published, and I got exactly what I had asked for (socks and underwear, oh, the joys of being a graduate student!) as well as some other pretty cool presents. My gran treated the family to an incredible massive dinner on Christmas, and my sister was surprised with a ring from her boyfriend/fiance Justin!!!! Super exciting for all of us!

My dad and I spent Boxing Day turning a 4' x 8' sheet of marine plywood into a beautiful new rudder for the American Fire, some footstretchers, and the last of the repair pieces for the Fire. It was a very productive day, and felt great not only to work with my dad again, but also to get so much accomplished. The Fire's going to be back to new in no time!

On the 27th, I headed up to the farm to celebrate my mom's birthday. After romping around the woods for a few hours, we headed to town for her birthday lunch, some shopping at Unique Thrift Store in Portland, and a movie, and then talked and laughed and caught up well into the morning hours. I woke to a gorgeous sunny morning, and took another long walk all around the farm as I've done a thousand times since I was a kid. I came back and visited with Mom, Emi, and Justin long into the afternoon before we headed back to Dad's.

I spent one more day relaxing and hanging with my family before loading up my bags and catching my flight back to Arizona. All in all, it was an excellent time at home, and I was sad to go.

But, I hit the ground running after returning, donning shorts and t-shirts once again in the brilliantly warm weather. I spent a few days at work, checking to make sure that my experiments were still doing well before spending New Year's Eve at Maloney's, the Insight Bowl (poor Big 10 this season), and then rang in the new year with some of my grad student friends and ended the night telling stories around a backyard firepit.

Jack and I started the new year with a 20 mile mountain bike ride at McDowell Mountain Park and I had a blast showing him the fast section on the Tonto Tank Trail before heading over to Jeff's aunt's house for some new year's beer and guacamole, and then to a bar in Scottsdale to watch the Rose Bowl (same sentiments as before).

The second day of the year was spent in a similar manner, and Jack, Fuji, and I took on Desert Classic of South Mountain. I trained at race pace and then raced back to where Jack and Fuj were rolling along until we all got to Telegraph Pass, where we hoisted our bikes up to the top. We rode the road down all the way to Suda's (stopping several times along the way to steal grapefruits and clementines growing near the road), and ended the night at Gallagher's where we hungrily wolfed down burgers and beers.

I spent the third day of the year snowboarding at Sunrise with Suda. It was only her third time on a board (her beautiful, brand-new board), but she did really well. Conditions were just about perfect: 40 degrees, sunny, and a good 8" of powder at the top of the mountain. It was fun, tiring day, and we chilled to some good music on the way home.

Now it's back to work, but I can't complain. All of my plants and cell cultures did beautifully over the break, and I've got several weeks before I start teaching again.

Dawn to Dusk

Over the weekend I had my first long(er) endurance mountain bike race, the 10 Hour Dawn to Dusk ride... solo. Up until then, my greatest one-day mileage on a mountain bike was about 60 miles, and somehow by February I have to train for my first 24 Hour solo. It's a daunting, exciting task, but considering what I was doing this time last year, it sort of suits me.

I woke well before the sun on Saturday, packed The Fish and some warm clothes, and headed out to my current mountain biking mecca, McDowell Mountain Park. The sun hadn't even began graying the horizon when I walked into the check-in tent and picked up my race number - Number 1. Usually the lower numbers are reserved for the best riders, but in this race, they gave the lowest numbers to the women solo riders, alphabetically. I have to say that it felt both really cool and very intimidating having the number. I made my camp in one of the solo tents and talked to my competition before warming up at 7. By then, the eastern horizon was glowing bright orange and my heart was pumping hard in the cold morning. I was definitely nervous to see how I would fare on the 15.6 mile loop.

We started en masse at 7:15 a.m. just as the sun was peaking over the Supes. We spread out a little bit on the paved dogleg that led to Pemberton Trail before hitting the sandy singletrack. As per usual, we got bunched up again pretty quickly as there is only one good (ie, not a sand pit) line to take for the first few miles of the trail. It was a bit frustrating, especially as the first five miles or so are on an incline and if you lost your momentum (as you do when you are spinning in sand behind a line of 30 other riders), you were toast. Eventually I just bit the bullet and toughed it out in the sand pits, grinding ahead of the line of riders until I came to a spot where we were more spread out. My adrenaline had gotten me past the first five miles of incline, and I reached the first landmark turn to the west before I knew it. The next stretch of five miles is both a blessing and a curse. It has gently rolling hills that are a great respite from the inccesant incline, but also some rocky sections and large uphill waterbars. They didn't bother me at all on the first lap, though, and soon I was on what would become my favorite stretch of moutain biking trail in Maricopa County. It's a tough call, as I absolutely love the 4 mile Sport Loop as well, but this is just pure fun. It's about 3 miles of SUPER fast, winding, gently downhill, smooth singletrack - with waterbars thrown in every 50 meters or so. Wicked, wicked fun. My smile stretched from ear to ear as cranked it in my highest gear and jumped even the smallest of the waterbars. I couldn't help myself. That section flew by, and let back towards the campgrounds through Pemberton Wash, where it looped around the team camping area at Pemberton Trailhead, and finished the last few miles in the sand back to the staging area.

I felt pumped after finishing the first loop in 1:24, and since it was cold I had hardly drank anything, so I had my card punched at the exchange tent, sucked down some Hammer Gel, and headed back out for number #2. Without the distraction of hundreds of other bikers, the first section seemed to take a lot longer, but again, most of the lap felt incredible (the rocky sections were just ok). I finished the second lap in 1:30 (taking into account the brief stops at the exchange tent), loaded up on some more quick carbs, and headed out again. More than 30 miles into the race, I started feeling the incline a little more and was very glad when the trail turned to the west, but still felt pretty good. The rocky sections and tougher waterbars started to show themselves, but the fast descent still made me feel on top of the world, and I still ended the lap with a dust-covered grin. After 45 miles, I knew I had to refuel, so I stopped for a bit longer (10 minutes or so) to cram some ramen and tortillas in my face, refill my Camelback bladder with Heed, and empty my other bladder. The rest may or may not have helped. My butt had actually become numb while riding, but when I got back on the saddle after the rest, it started complaining, and five miles of sitting down on the incline didn't help. Fortunately I have had lots of training with dealing with butt pain, and I just sucked it up until it became numb again. Lap 4 was as much mentally draining as it was physically... I had challenged myself to complete 5 laps, but when I did the calculations after the second lap, I realized that 6 was possible time-wise - if I could hold out for that long. When you realized you are only half-way and have another 45 miles to go... your mind starts to want to quit. But, I enjoy the mental toughness game, and slogged on until I reached the rolling hills. At that point, the rocky sections were really starting to test my mental game, but I dug deep and rolled over every one with flying colors. I was really starting to get tired after the fun section, but the crowds of people at the campground yelling, "Go #1!" boosted my spirits enough to get me through the lap. When I got to the exchange tent, they had set up a good spread of food, so I sucked down a fruit smoothie, some popcorn, and the ever present Hammer Gel before taking a quick break to slather on some much needed chamois butter (no details there!) and hop on for Lap #5.

#5 was definitely the worst. I was at my lowest mentally with two more laps to go, and I developed a cramp in my right hamstring during the incline. I worked it out a bit on the rolling hills, but it certainly didn't like the rocky sections. By this time, the fast section became the section where I barely bunny hopped the waterbars and pedaled only enough to get me to the next stretch of trail. It seemed to take forever to get back to the exchange tent, but I finally did 1:48 later.

Although I was exhausted after biking 15 miles more than I ever had before, #6 was much easier than the previous one. The uphill section still felt endless, but once I reached the end of that, I was stoked. Even the rocky part didn't slow me down, as I knew that as soon as I was finished with that, I was home free. With renewed energy, I flew once more down to the camping area. The enthusiasm at the campground was infectious, and with less than two miles to go, I kicked it back up into my highest gear and pounded out the last miles. I crossed the finish line right at 5... having rode my mountain bike for 93.6 miles in 9 hours and 51 minutes. As soon as I passed through the exchange tent, all my adrenaline faded and I realized how tired I really was. I rolled back to the solo tent as the rest of the solo crowd slowly filed in. I scarfed every bit of food that I had brought, downed about a liter of Heed, and sat down and let it sink in... I had just successfully finished my first long solo gig, and I couldn't have been happier.

After I recovered and packed up a bit, I made my way over to the team camping area and hung out with Mike, Todd, and a few of our Tuesday night riding buddies before awards. I ended up taking 5th of 8 solo geared women, and felt pretty good about it considering the experience level of those ahead of me.

After awards, I tried to stay awake/social for a few hours at the Wild West Rugby Fest social, but I was down for the count by 10 p.m. Surprisingly, though, after a full night of sleep, I didn't even feel sore or tired, so I headed up with Jack and Fuji to watch the rugby matches at CAP Basin. The rest of the day was spent recarbing with Miller Lite, hanging out with the ruggers, trying to convince them that it wouldn't be a good idea for me to play considering the facts that I haven't played in ages and had just finished the longest mountain bike race of my life, and laughing at the drunken fun that is Sunday rugby.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays, and this one was no exception. I got a bit shorted on the holiday last year, as I was busy preparing for rowing across the Atlantic, so I was very excited when I boarded the plane in Sky Harbor for a full long weekend with the family on my grandma's farm.

From the moment that I touched down in the brand new terminal in Indianapolis (which is gorgeous by the way), I became a kid again. Since we were really little, Thanksgiving has always been a holiday of food, family, and lots of adventure (real and imaginary) for me, my sister, and all of my cousins. We spent Thanksgiving Day at my Aunt Carol's house. After an incredible meal of turkey, homemade noodles, and all the fixings that could fit in the kitchen, all of us "kids" headed out to the woods where we spent the rest of the day jumping the creek, climbing deer stands, chucking hedgeapples out of trees (actually a really addictive game that we made up... you kind of have to be a rural, Midwestern kid to understand), and just generally exploring.

On Friday, it was back to Grandma's to begin the yearly tradition of making forts. We've done this since we were old enough to walk out to the pastures by ourselves, and I think we'll probably keep doing it until we have kids of our own. As we've gotten older, we've stopped battling aliens and other enemies, but there is just something timeless about designing and building things that I don't think will ever lose its fun. Since the farm was recently timbered, there were several tree tops out in the woods behind the house where we normally build our bonfire, so it was a perfect place to set up this year. We usually all get together and build one huge awesome fort, but since there was so much to work with this year, we all decided to build our own and be creative. Scott and Mitch went underground and built theirs into a pit left from the roots of a fallen tree, Emi got really artsy and wove a circular fort, Devin built a multiroomed mansion, and I opted to build an elevated fort in the cut top of an old hickory tree - which was a lot more difficult that I had first imagined, as it's kind of our unspoken rule that you can only use naturally occurring building materials. By the end of the day, I barely had my floor finished, but it was still a good time.

After supper, we all loaded up to go watch (a.k.a., embarrass) Devin in his final Brazil Christmas Parade as a Northview Marching Knight. We had a great time watching the band and all the cool floats, and fighting little kids for the candy that was thrown from them. We then spent the rest of the night tending to the bonfire out by our forts and enjoying each other's company in the frosty fall air.

Saturday was spent in much the same manner as Friday, with all of us trying to finish our forts. I think we may have to go back to the one fort idea, as none of us were very close to finishing by the end of the day, but we had some pretty cool frameworks built that just might withstand a year of the elements... only time will tell. That evening we took a trip to the Coxville Tavern for dinner, as Emi and I had wanted to go there for a long time. It turned out to be a pretty cool little place full of history there in covered bridge country. After visiting with some of our other family near Rock Run, we headed back to Grandma's and Emi and I curled up in the bunk room one more time.

Sunday morning dawned to about two inches of freshly fallen snow, which was absolutely gorgeous. I really miss the changing seasons, so it was truly refreshing. Emi, Devin, and I spent the morning checking out our forts (not weatherproof) and talking a walk in the lower pasture before heading out. Although the snow was beautiful, it didn't help matters much for getting back to Phoenix, and after several hours of delays, gate changes, and an hour sitting on the runway at O'Hare (I have yet to get an on-time departure from there September-April), I was headed back to the Valley of the Sun.