Do you ever have those days when you wake up just stoked? Stoked to be alive. Stoked for the things that are coming your way. Stoked from recognition of all the amazing things going on in your life. Stoked from all the love surrounding you. Stoked just for the sake of being stoked?
Me neither.
Just kidding. Today is totally one of those days. And I'm pretty sure I know why - in roughly 48 hours I'm leaving on a big 5 week adventure. First stop - Philadelphia to race in the Liberty Classic on Sunday. I'm guest riding for a team called Cawes based out of DC. My friend Jocelyn hooked me up with these ladies and I can't wait! It's going to be hard, challenging and fantastic, all at once. Going to battle on this level is a new experience and I'm looking forward to absorbing, learning and seeing how I stack up.
Then come Monday afternoon, I continue my journey East over the big pond (Atlantic Ocean) and fly into Benjamin's arms on the Spanish island of Mallorca. He's over there doing pre-Olympic training with the girls and I get to tag along. For a month. Yippee!!!
See? Lots of things to be stoked about.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Coal Miner's Daughter
Wearing pink shorts, corn rose and a stocky frame, Christi Martin is my idol. "The Coal Miner's Daughter" was her nickname and she without a doubt helped legitimize women's boxing. She had 57 fights in her career, with 49 wins, 31 of which were by knock out.
This montage is from the Laila Ali vs. Christi Martin fight. You read that right: Ali has a daughter, in case you haven't heard. She towered over Christi. And knocked her out. Did that keep her from getting back in the ring? No way.
With a career spanning from 1989 to 2011, her last recorded fight was in 2011. It stopped in the 6th round because she broke her hand. Read: Tough Cookie.
The reason I bring her up: yesterday was the Coal Miner's Race in Louisville. Around and around we went on a 2 mile circuit. Blows were traded - attacks and counters. Keeping your head in the game and your wits about you is crucial to succeeding. In a small field of 15, there's no room to hide. You have to work. You are also going round and round with more than one opponent. You must calculate the risk of break combinations that go up the road. You must calculate your tank and its reserves, monitoring it's levels and knowing how many matches you have. Thankfully, you aren't getting punched in the head. Instead your legs are taking the blows.
Final lap - judge decision time. No TKO's today - the field is compact and together. Jockey for position, sitting fourth/fifth wheel before the final bend. It's show time. Time to demonstrate your tactics, your sprint, your power. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn't. Yesterday it worked. Another win. Another set of goosebumps so big and then a wave of nausea - making me feel so alive. So thankful for the opportunity to compete. So grateful my sport no longer involves broken noses, black eyes and constant concussions.
I may have stopped boxing a decade ago, but the competitor never faltered. I love this shit.
Friday, May 25, 2012
R. Triplett Tribute #4
This is the fourth year since Ryan's passing. In commemoration
of his being, I'm putting out a series of 5 tributes: a collection of
short true stories of experiences we shared and in essence, give you a
glimpse of his unforgettable character. With his 35th birthday coming up
on June 5th, and going into the fifth year of his absence, I wanted the
world know what a big impression he left on my life.
Every time I hear the Postal Service, I am transported back to 2001. We had just married and had so much adventure and life a head of us. A honeymoon in Yosemite, nearly dying, bringing Makiah into our lives, moving to Seattle, starting new.
Death Cab for Cutie blossomed out of Bellingham the same time we did.
Flash forward to September 7, 2008....
When Ryan passed, word spread like wild fire. The outpouring from the cycling and climbing communities was huge. 300 people showed up to his memorial, a testament to the people he touched. I was speechless. One person after another got up and told a funny sweet story about Ryan.
I feel for those who never met him. Each person who spoke said they felt like Ryan was their best friend. He never judged anyone, always made time for those he loved and listened well.
Every time I hear the Postal Service, I am transported back to 2001. We had just married and had so much adventure and life a head of us. A honeymoon in Yosemite, nearly dying, bringing Makiah into our lives, moving to Seattle, starting new.
Death Cab for Cutie blossomed out of Bellingham the same time we did.
Flash forward to September 7, 2008....
When Ryan passed, word spread like wild fire. The outpouring from the cycling and climbing communities was huge. 300 people showed up to his memorial, a testament to the people he touched. I was speechless. One person after another got up and told a funny sweet story about Ryan.
I feel for those who never met him. Each person who spoke said they felt like Ryan was their best friend. He never judged anyone, always made time for those he loved and listened well.
Josh put together an amazing compilation of songs. Songs that Ryan listened to, songs that embodied his spirit, songs that remind me of him that I swear he's in the room with me whenever I listen to them.
I haven't cried like this in a while. I actually have more snot on my clothing from my own nose then Moonli's. I know it's part of the process - part of the healing and remembering and love. Oh, the path of life. Sometimes it rips your heart out. To have found love again is such a gift. Something so unexpected and wonderful. Thank you Ryan.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Porsche 2012 Track Day
Today was like a powder day on the slopes. You don't mind that you're getting up super early because you know you are guaranteed a shit eating grin from ear to ear, all day. I even woke up before my alarm went off - impressive!
Why, might you ask?
This might have had something to do with it....Porsche of Colorado Springs sponsors our Pro Design bike racing team. And part of our team membership includes volunteering for various events. Today's event: 8+ hours of track time down in Fountain, Colorado at Pike Peak International Raceway.
It was rough.
I haven't squealed like that since Six Flags with Benjamin.
They actually let me drive this thing. 115 mph (or maybe more? I wasn't looking at the dashboard....)
Porsche of COS rented the entire track as a thank you to its customers and even some upper management came to check it out. Joe Brenner, a friend and GM put on quite a show.
Thanks Porsche. I now have a new interest....
Monday, May 21, 2012
Bon voyage!
It's just me and the puppies this Monday morning. Benjamin left in the wee hours this morning - Olympics bound. Next stop: Majorca, then London. Two and a half months of travel away from COS... a little over 70 days till the USA girls take to the velodrome.
It's kind of a big deal, yo.
What a wild trip it's been.
It's kind of a big deal, yo.
What a wild trip it's been.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Superior Morgul Classic
I'm lounging in Denver right now, at my teammate Therese's house listening to the rain showers pass through. The legs are propped up, the butt nearly asleep, the tummy full and a slight smile satisfaction spreading. Last night I slept 10+ hours, sleep that I apparently needed. And it paid off today. Thank goodness because the day before the uphill TT killed me. Well, nearly killed me.
I definitely recommend pre-riding a TT course any time you get a chance. Scratch that. It should be mandatory. Show up to the race as early as you have to - but make it a priority. Profile views of a course are only so helpful. That being said, the course favored those who have suffered up it before. And guess what? The top several podium spots were all Boulder locals. Flora Duffy, a recent Olympic selection athlete, Heather Fischer, a recent Collegiate National Champion, Cari Higgins, a general bad ass professional, etc - sick competition if you ask me. And that's just to name a few.
Today provided a little redemption. Actually, it provided a lot. I even got into a two up breakaway, then soloed off the front for 4 laps, won a QOM point sprint and then recovered back in the pack long enough to recharge for the final sprint, ending up 3rd. Not shabby!
And now I rest up for tomorrows queen stage - a 54 mile road race that travels up the "wall" 5 times. Perfect practice for Philly. And time to see if those hill repeats will pay off.
Nail. Hammer, hammer, hammer.
I definitely recommend pre-riding a TT course any time you get a chance. Scratch that. It should be mandatory. Show up to the race as early as you have to - but make it a priority. Profile views of a course are only so helpful. That being said, the course favored those who have suffered up it before. And guess what? The top several podium spots were all Boulder locals. Flora Duffy, a recent Olympic selection athlete, Heather Fischer, a recent Collegiate National Champion, Cari Higgins, a general bad ass professional, etc - sick competition if you ask me. And that's just to name a few.
Today provided a little redemption. Actually, it provided a lot. I even got into a two up breakaway, then soloed off the front for 4 laps, won a QOM point sprint and then recovered back in the pack long enough to recharge for the final sprint, ending up 3rd. Not shabby!
And now I rest up for tomorrows queen stage - a 54 mile road race that travels up the "wall" 5 times. Perfect practice for Philly. And time to see if those hill repeats will pay off.
Nail. Hammer, hammer, hammer.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
R. Triplett Tribute #3
This is the fourth year since Ryan's passing. In commemoration
of his being, I'm putting out a series of 5 tributes: a collection of
short true stories of experiences we shared and in essence, give you a
glimpse of his unforgettable character. With his 35th birthday coming up
on June 5th, and going into the fifth year of his absence, I wanted the
world know what a big impression he left on my life.
Ryan was an athlete at conception. He came out of his mother's womb ready to tackle the world. By age two he was skiing down Washington State's steep terrain, skating circles around most adults on the ice and by age four, pointing his skis straight down hill with no fear. In school his drive was recognized as he made All Star team after All Star team, despite usually being the smallest guy on the squad.
His work ethic and natural born talent made him extremely coach-able and dozens and dozens of Most Valuable Player awards adorned his trophy collections.
His mom, understanding his drive and passion, supported him the best way a mother can - driving him to and from hockey practice, to the mountains, basketball courts and soccer fields. But his focus didn't end on the training grounds - Ryan would come home and do hundreds of sit ups and push ups in his room after practice. Tom, his step dad, would walk into his room, hearing Ryan counting and strange noises from upstairs and catch him legs wrapped around his top bunk, suspended in air and doing sit ups, "24, 25, 26, 27..." and start adding in numbers: "8, 16, 4, 7, 23". Ryan would lose track, get upset and then start all over again from the beginning.
In high school, Ryan focused primarily on hockey. He spent the majority of his time in Canada - teaching in Penticton, playing with sharp skates, hurling sticks and reaching his VO2 Max daily. Again, since he was smaller than most, he worked even harder. Bigger, slower opponents could send him flying across the ice but they'd have to catch him first. And often Ryan skated circles around them. He also was the one to start the most fights - losing his front tooth before he had his first tattoo.
By the time Ryan and I met, hockey had run its course in his life. Or at least wasn't the dominant drive it had once been. Hanging out with his friends and partying became important. He took a year off from school after graduating high school. Yet somehow, call it fate or destiny, our circle of friends knew one another and as a result we met. But his drive and passion was shifting.
He enrolled back in school and applied himself to his studies. He excelled at math and computer science. And during that time he discovered rock climbing. Or rather, it discovered him. He became obsessed, as only a lifelong athlete can. But living in the wet Pacific Northwest climate is rough for a burgeoning climber. I remember early one summer, I dropped Ryan off at Josh's house for a two week long road/climbing trip, and he returned transformed. That trip cemented his love for climbing.
By default, I started climbing too. I loved spending time with Ryan, in the outdoors and going places only a handful of people on the planet have been. We spent our honeymoon in Yosemite - the birthplace of American climbing. We traveled to Europe to climb Fontainebleu, Ceuse, the Dolomites, the Bavarian Forest, Chamonix. We road tripped down to Arizona, California, Oregon, Idaho, Colorado, and Utah.
During those road trips, we would swap driving but every time rock came into view, either off the side of the freeway or an obscure place, Ryan would forget he was behind the wheel and marvel at the rock, nearly crashing. And if I was behind the wheel, he would glue his eyes to the window asking me to slow down. What did he see? What was this drive?
It was becoming clear to me that Ryan's love for climbing went beyond normal interests. He was so passionate about rocks - the way they form, the way they feel, the way they climb - that I had to find something I was equally as passionate about. Unfortunately it wasn't hauling myself up granite slabs. Sure, I enjoyed it. Especially multi-pitch adventure routes. But it stopped there. Cycling entered into my life and swept me off my feet.
Even though we were involved in different sports and as a result spent a lot of time apart on the weekends, we both saw the importance of supporting one another in our sports. Not a day went by where he would ask me how my ride was that day, nor I him about the bouldering problem he was tackling. When ever I would ride up to Little Si after work to meet him and his friends at World Wall 1, I would be introduced to people and they would know more about my cycling career then I would. Ryan was so proud of me, and I in turn of him.
I saw and recognized the beauty of following your passion. Of devoting your life toward what drives you. Of being absolutely content because you are following your heart. Ryan's heart yearned to climb upside down. He loved the physical challenge and the mental fortitude required. Any one who knew him saw this about his character immediately.
Every time I see an outcrop of rock (and there are a lot of them here in Colorado Springs), I think of him. I look at the natural climbing lines, its texture and am reminded that following your passion is the only way to live.
Ryan was an athlete at conception. He came out of his mother's womb ready to tackle the world. By age two he was skiing down Washington State's steep terrain, skating circles around most adults on the ice and by age four, pointing his skis straight down hill with no fear. In school his drive was recognized as he made All Star team after All Star team, despite usually being the smallest guy on the squad.
His work ethic and natural born talent made him extremely coach-able and dozens and dozens of Most Valuable Player awards adorned his trophy collections.
His mom, understanding his drive and passion, supported him the best way a mother can - driving him to and from hockey practice, to the mountains, basketball courts and soccer fields. But his focus didn't end on the training grounds - Ryan would come home and do hundreds of sit ups and push ups in his room after practice. Tom, his step dad, would walk into his room, hearing Ryan counting and strange noises from upstairs and catch him legs wrapped around his top bunk, suspended in air and doing sit ups, "24, 25, 26, 27..." and start adding in numbers: "8, 16, 4, 7, 23". Ryan would lose track, get upset and then start all over again from the beginning.
In high school, Ryan focused primarily on hockey. He spent the majority of his time in Canada - teaching in Penticton, playing with sharp skates, hurling sticks and reaching his VO2 Max daily. Again, since he was smaller than most, he worked even harder. Bigger, slower opponents could send him flying across the ice but they'd have to catch him first. And often Ryan skated circles around them. He also was the one to start the most fights - losing his front tooth before he had his first tattoo.
By the time Ryan and I met, hockey had run its course in his life. Or at least wasn't the dominant drive it had once been. Hanging out with his friends and partying became important. He took a year off from school after graduating high school. Yet somehow, call it fate or destiny, our circle of friends knew one another and as a result we met. But his drive and passion was shifting.
He enrolled back in school and applied himself to his studies. He excelled at math and computer science. And during that time he discovered rock climbing. Or rather, it discovered him. He became obsessed, as only a lifelong athlete can. But living in the wet Pacific Northwest climate is rough for a burgeoning climber. I remember early one summer, I dropped Ryan off at Josh's house for a two week long road/climbing trip, and he returned transformed. That trip cemented his love for climbing.
By default, I started climbing too. I loved spending time with Ryan, in the outdoors and going places only a handful of people on the planet have been. We spent our honeymoon in Yosemite - the birthplace of American climbing. We traveled to Europe to climb Fontainebleu, Ceuse, the Dolomites, the Bavarian Forest, Chamonix. We road tripped down to Arizona, California, Oregon, Idaho, Colorado, and Utah.
During those road trips, we would swap driving but every time rock came into view, either off the side of the freeway or an obscure place, Ryan would forget he was behind the wheel and marvel at the rock, nearly crashing. And if I was behind the wheel, he would glue his eyes to the window asking me to slow down. What did he see? What was this drive?
It was becoming clear to me that Ryan's love for climbing went beyond normal interests. He was so passionate about rocks - the way they form, the way they feel, the way they climb - that I had to find something I was equally as passionate about. Unfortunately it wasn't hauling myself up granite slabs. Sure, I enjoyed it. Especially multi-pitch adventure routes. But it stopped there. Cycling entered into my life and swept me off my feet.
Even though we were involved in different sports and as a result spent a lot of time apart on the weekends, we both saw the importance of supporting one another in our sports. Not a day went by where he would ask me how my ride was that day, nor I him about the bouldering problem he was tackling. When ever I would ride up to Little Si after work to meet him and his friends at World Wall 1, I would be introduced to people and they would know more about my cycling career then I would. Ryan was so proud of me, and I in turn of him.
I saw and recognized the beauty of following your passion. Of devoting your life toward what drives you. Of being absolutely content because you are following your heart. Ryan's heart yearned to climb upside down. He loved the physical challenge and the mental fortitude required. Any one who knew him saw this about his character immediately.
Every time I see an outcrop of rock (and there are a lot of them here in Colorado Springs), I think of him. I look at the natural climbing lines, its texture and am reminded that following your passion is the only way to live.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)