Old. Older. Oldest. Me.

I’m starting to see a pattern in this iteration of the NSSC…the word old. What’s old is new again, this shit is getting old, and now I’m too old. 

The very first version of this blog (to which I’ve lost the credentials and even the actual name of it - I’m sure it’s floating around on the internet somewhere) was borne out of a crash on my mountain bike. It seems if I have been good at anything on a mountain bike, it’s been crashing. Hell, this blog had a couple year run of me detailing multiple crashes and even more injuries. 

In keeping with the new theme, what was old is new again, kinda. I went down with the ship yesterday, fairly hard too. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve kissed the earth and I can’t say I’ve missed it. But as with most of my crashes, it was a potent combo of speed, bravado, and possibly (most likely) riding above my skill level.  That coupled with the fact I tend to ride like I rode in my 30s and not almost 55 (I just gagged a little typing that). 

Now, understand I’ve never loved crashing, but it has always been a part of cycling, especially mountain biking. I’ve understood the risks, but as I’ve gotten older, if I’m not feeling something, I’ll go around or walk over the obstacle, no shame in that to ensure riding another day. This was emphasized even more after my rash of injuries a few years back. But, crashing now is on a different level. I was clipping along at a pretty decent pace, descending Far West trail at HLMP. A little maneuver on a high-side banked turn and as I came out of it all of the sudden *BLAM* on the ground wondering how I got there. I lay on the ground for a few seconds, taking account of my situation before I got up, dusted myself off and continued on. 

For the next few minutes, I took it easy on the descent, before finally opening it back up and hitting the few jumps and finally descending through the flow-trail to finish the ride. 

Ultimately I’m OK, but not without some reminders that will linger for a while. 

This elbow has scar tissue
layered on scar tissue.  

Couple this with the fact that now Garmin has metrics on their Edge products that tell you how many jumps you completed, how fast you were going when you jumped, how much hang time you had and how far you jumped and you’ll quickly see that some of these things might not be good for an aged mountain biker. 

This metrics page is going to get me in trouble. 

But hey, I haven’t crashed in quite some time, so I was probably overdue. And it taught me something…I can crash and not get seriously hurt, so I’ll most likely try that again. This most likely wasn’t the lesson I was supposed to learn. 

This is Getting Old

​Well, I decidedly did NOT dust this old chestnut off to just be another platform to discuss/bitch/rant about cancer, but this post will once again be very cancer focused. 

A few weeks ago I had to attend a funeral of a 17 year old that we knew who had a sarcoma recurrence in a similar time frame of the Boy’s recurrence. Obviously, this one hit a little too close to home, but more so I am completely devastated for the family.  It seems completely and utterly unfair after a kid, a fucking child, fights like that only to have dying be the outcome. The survivor’s guilt knows no bounds.  Why is my kid doing so well in the face of very similar circumstances and this innocent 17 year old had the complete opposite outcome? 

Now, today I attended a funeral for a friend and fellow cyclist, Kevin Forrester, who also died of cancer and the age of 58. I knew about Kevin’s diagnosis for a while, but it still doesn’t lessen the impact of the news…like a full on kick to the nuts. 

Kevin’s impact on cycling in the Black Hills is massive and he will be sorely missed. There are plenty of other musings online of his impact through his trail building and his race promotions, for legendary BH races like the Tatanka and the BAM, so I won’t wax on about those. 

I will say Kevin was the first mythical status bike racer in the Black Hills. I’ll never forget the year his name was launched to the forefront on the formative years of mountain bike racing. He was the man to beat and no one could do it. But what truly launched him to that mythical status in my young mind was his finish at the Dalton Lake race. Leading the pack, he got a flat tire on the front wheel, couldn’t fix it and finished on his rim! I was in awe. Leading the pack enough to try to fix your tire then deciding “fuck it, riding on the rim it is,” and still winning the race is the stuff of legend. I probably have this story wrong or I’m conflating a few stories, but in my mind it’s true and what made Kevin the legend he was. 

That taught me a lot about riding that day. 1. Bikes are just tools and you can fix them. 2. There is a way to persevere not matter what is handed to you. 3.  You’re tougher than you think. And finally 4. Don’t quit, even when the cards are stacked against you. 

I even employed this in one of Kevin’s races, the Tatanka 100. I got 4 flats that day, but never quit, never gave up.  I mean, I know it took me a LONG time to finish that day, but I kept going, even when others around me were quitting. 

Godspeed Kevin. Did a lot more for mountain biking than you’ll ever know, but more importantly you taught people lessons on how to live, even if you didn’t know you were doing it. 

So once again, fuck cancer. It’s a bunch of shit that NO ONE should have to go through.  

NSS 4.0, 5.0? I Can't Keep Track of How Many Relaunches This Stupid Blog Has Had.

​What was old is new again. We have war in the Middle East, Trump is president, and The Boy is battling cancer…it seems like a GREAT time to dust this old dirty thing off and see if I can get it started and keep it running.  

Everything, and I do mean everything, has been in a holding pattern for almost a year because of The Boy’s Ewing sarcoma recurrence. I’m sure some of you have followed what’s happening with him over on his Caring Bridge page. 

Over there we keep it positive and mostly about his current treatment status. Back over here I can let it out, so maybe that’s why’s I’m dusting this outdated form of communication off. 

Fuck Ewing sarcoma and fuck cancer. Typically when there is a recurrence of this cancer, it is deadly.  Obviously this created a bunch of anger and fear in us, but clearly The Boy has a greater purpose than he knows, as he is once again kicking its ass. It’s infuriating as hell having this shit rob two+ years of our lives, especially for The Boy, taking around 10% of his life to fight. Ultimately it’s better than the alternative, but fuck that none the less. And now we’re nearing the end of this year long treatment, so it is time for me to start getting my ass back into to some semblance of shape and normality. 

I’ve been at Mayo Clinic for the last three weeks with The Boy helping him through his radiation treatments. With his treatments only taking a couple hours out of the day, that’s left a lot of free time for us. I’ve been taking advantage of it, utilizing the meager exercise equipment here at the Hope Lodge. I am hoping it will be a springboard for a lot more riding when I get home later today. 

Not the most inspiring post, but now that I have a new editing app on my phone, I am hoping I can make this more of a regular thing. 

If you see me out in the world, ask if I want to go for a ride. If I say I can’t, remind me that I need to.