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#TBT to 2014 and the California Superbike School. The School has camps all over the world—I did mine at Las Vegas Motor Speedway, and over the course of two days I learned critical lessons about riding, and, curiously, life. Proper throttle control, turning points, rider input—these are some of the essential and potentially life-saving skills you should employ on the motorbike, and coincidentally many of them translate very well to cycling (which accounts for my comfort and relative skill descending). However, another skill—the *wide view*—has implications beyond the track or the highway: Ever find yourself on a long, steep descent on your time-trial bike, full aero position, and you happen to look down at the pavement around your front wheel? It’s a little unsettling, isn’t it? You can’t keep track of everything going by, and you have to look up to gain some sense of perspective, to *slow things down*, as it were. Next time, extend this concept a little further: don’t just look up five, ten, fifteen feet in front of you. Look *wide*, take everything in—'truck at T-intersection, guardrail on the right, patch of gravel on the left, ocean in the distance'—and notice how time slows down, as if someone hit the “slo-mo” button on life. You minimize the risk of surprises occurring (which can lead to survival reactions such as target fixation = very bad), and you’ll have much more time to respond when they do. If this concept resonates at all in this context, ask yourself, where else might it apply? . #triathlon #motorcycle #cycling #tbt #lifehacks
When I was in high school, my Mom and Stepdad decided to try their entrepreneurial hand in Dallas, Texas, which left me and our hapless German Shepherd Freeway alone in a large house in Coach Hill. Sensing imminent mischief, my folks asked my older brother Jim to move into the house while they were in the U.S.
This was good timing, as Jimmy was making life adjustments after coming out of a relationship, and, as typically happens after coming out of a relationship, he was entering that raw period of uncertain freedom and growth, where one sheds the carapace of the past and emerges, naked, into a novel world of self-reclamation and discovery. Continue reading “Jimmy”
This happened a few years’ back and I never got around to writing about it. But, since it’s kind of an interesting story, if you’ve got a few minutes to kill, take a read.
In early 2011, I flew to Roatan, just off the coast of Honduras, for a dive trip. Al, my first dive instructor, organizes trips like these occasionally, and I went down by myself and met up with about 20 other folks, all from Calgary. A few of them were dive masters, and a few others (including me), had around 20 or so dives, and had a decent feel for the water. And rounding out the group were a number of brand new students doing their open-water certification.
We stayed at a small resort on the east end of the island, and on the very first dive of the very first day, part of the group set out on the resort’s boat, the “Miss Katie”, a modest, utilitarian vessel, just big enough to accommodate around a dozen divers. I was on that boat with my dive partner Clint, along with Al who was certifying all the new students. Continue reading “The Wreck of the Miss Katie”
Dad would have been 88 today. Here he is with Sammy Davis Jr., late ’40s, early ’50s.
Happy Birthday, Pops.