Whether we live in cities or in rural communities we’re tied to the land. Terra firma. No, that doesn’t mean we’re all farmers, ranchers, or loggers. We’re grounded in a topography. A geography. Even in urban studies when I teach university courses on the city we explore this notion of a city’s site and situation. We talk about topography, geography, climate, resources, and more. It influences us in the city … the rain and lush forests of the Pacific Northwest … the sun, heat, and arroyos of the Southwest. We’re tied to the land.
I get restless. Always have. And I mean always. Now, the “where” of what I was drawn to at the moment has changed over the years. But the common denominator still remains the same ... exploring (to me) the frontier. As you can imagine, if the frontier represents the front edge of my experiences then it certainly is evolving and moving.
I drink coffee every morning. I have my routine. I measure out 18 grams of coffee and grind it using a hand grinder so as to not wake anyone up. I brew with 280 grams of water at 202 degrees using a v60 pourover set-up. I love it. It’s great. It tastes wonderful. But … when that same routine is done outdoors? Wonderful turns into A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! What is it about drinking coffee outside that is so rewarding?
Life has a way of throwing curves at you. Most often these unintended intrusions end up being enormous shaping influences on our lives. An illness … cancer … a disability … a job loss. These are all pivotal moments in our lives. As we emerge from them we’re simply not the same. No longer can we view life and the world around us the same way. The same goes for me, mountain biking, and sustainability.
If I was in a band … I wouldn’t be. I’d be a solo artist. I’d be Justin Timberlake instead of *NSYNC or Beyoncé rather than Destiny’s Child. It’s not that I don’t want to be in a band it’s just that my schedule doesn’t always work out. But we’re talking about mountain biking and not singing. (BTW, I can’t sing … or dance).
