A Small Note, For the End of 2008

Security . . . what does this mean in relation to life as we know it today? For the most part it means safety and freedom from worry. It is said to be the end that all men strive for; but is security a utopian goal or is it another word for rut?

Let us visualize the secure man; and by this term, I mean a man who has settled for financial and personal security for his goal in life. In general, he is a man who has pushed ambition and initiative aside and settled down, so to speak, in a boring, but safe and comfortable rut for the rest of his life. His future is but an extension of his present, and he accepts it as such with a complacent shrug of his shoulders. His ideas and ideals are those of society in general and he is accepted as a respectable, but average and prosaic man. But is he a man? Has he any self-respect or pride in himself? How could he, when he has risked nothing and gained nothing? What does he think when he sees his youthful dreams of adventure, accomplishment, travel and romance buried under the cloak of conformity? How does he feel when he realizes that he has barely tasted the meal of life; when he sees the prison he has made for himself in pursuit of the almightydollar? If he thinks this is all well and good, fine, but think of the tradgedy of a man who has sacrificed his freedom on the altar of security, and wishes he could turn back the hands of time. A man is to be pitied who lacked the courage to accept the challenge of freedom and depart from the cushion of security and see life as it is instead of living it second-hand. Life has by-passed this man and he has watched from a secure place, afraid to seek anything better. What has he done except to sit and wait for the tomorrow which never comes?

Turn back the pages of history and see the men who have shaped the destiny of the world. Security was never theirs, but they lived rather than existed. Where would the world be if all men had sought security and not taken risks or gambled with their lives on the chance that, if they won, life would be different and richer? It is from the bystanders (who are in the vast majority) that we receive the propaganda that life is not worth living, that life is drudgery, that the ambitions of youth must be laid aside for a life which is but a painful wait for death. . . .

They lacked the only true courage: the kind which enables men to face the unknown regardless of the consequences.. . .
who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?

THE SPECTATOR"SECURITY"BY HUNTER S. THOMPSON, 1955

Rhonda Pulled Us Out

This is Rhonda, our tow, from Alpine Meadows Ski Resort, which is what it took to get the cars out of the driveway.

A long season ahead . . .

Bombing on Christmas Morning

I woke up this morning to the sounds of bombing happening at Alpine, so as to avoid avalanches during the day. It's been going on for the last two hours. I instantly thought of my brother in Baghdad, and I think it's possible, though we're world's apart and over 9,000 miles away, we could very well be hearing similar sounds on this Christmas morning.

Go figure.

This picture is of our porch. That is a car, buried under 3 or more feet of snow.

Most importantly, I woke up to David Sedaris reading the "Santaland Diaries" on NPR. (http://www.npr.org/templates/player/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=98669879&m=98706010) Good stuff. I instantly called my friend Spoony, stuck in Florida golfing right now, as he was the one who introduced it to me many years ago.

A strange Christmas message. Spoony has lost his job too. He was always the one most stable, with the same job for maybe, 10 years, and managed to make it through the Dot Bomb time, in the early part of this century.

Most of all, Snowy was able to experience a first of the morning denial of his Christmas pee. It was just too deep out there.

Here he is with a full bladder, and he remains so right now, laying on the floor here.

Oh well,

Merry Christmas.

Competitions? Sponsorship?

I am set for the Grand Prix and the Revoltion Tour, in about a month and a half, when it snows. I was just clicking around for the other comps - there's this: http://www.jeepsports.com/index.php#

"With news that Jeep has decided to no longer continue its sponsorship of Jeep 48STRAIGHT, the company has announced that the 2008-2009 winter event series has been cancelled."

I hear so much about womens' surfing losing sponsors and my favorite abstract extreme sports struggling for money, sponsorship . . . breaks my heart. The Jeep King of the Mountain is a cool one. Will miss it.

Okay snow. Ready . . . ? Now!

Dang.

Dry as the Sahara out there.

SeeYa

The boards, kicking it after working out in the water.

Video from Sunset Beach, of Boneyards, and Backyards.
View from the shower behind the house, where I scrubbed.

I was stuck in the Foodland Parking lot waiting for a friend to drop off a car he was selling. Sitting in the rain, the waves blown out, I was able to scout the many hundreds of boys who decided this was the day to go get more meat and beer for the house. Yippee. That's why they call it Dudeland I guess. It's the only supermarket on the North Shore, and many a dude walk in and out. It's nice.

I didn't want to talk to any of them. I don't think they might say anything I want to hear. Surfer Dudes Galore. The tan muscles and floppy hair from a short distance were enough for me.

These pictures are of the next leg of the Triple Crown set up at Sunset beach, a block from our house. Me, catching a wave. Drew, the artist, in red; a nice kid in front of his work.

Another sunset behind Paul's house. It's crazy, they happen, like, every day.

Making Fun of Surfers

These pictures are of Ian Walsh and Jordy Smith, whom I shared dead baby jokes with and made fun of. I didn't know who they really were. (http://www.surfermag.com/features/onlineexclusives/starsanddollars2007/Who Deserves The Most Money?
SURFER's Opinion Poll
After multiple amateur world titles, a very strong showing in Hawaii, plus several cage-rattling appearances on the World Tour as a wildcard, it’s now rumored that Jordy Smith is poised to sign one of the largest contracts ever offered to a rookie in the history of professional surfing. If the conjecture surrounding the deal is correct, it’s possible that soon, Jordy could be one of the highest-paid surfers in the world—besides, of course, Kelly Slater.)

I made fun of Ian for shipping his stationary bike over from Maui for the duration of the Triple Crown. Jordy is shown here with his "g-string" - his shoelace belt creeping up actually.

All good, I suppose. I had one girl in hysterics as I poked fun at Ian and his workout girliness for having this stationary bike upstairs in the bathroom. He was such a sarcastic mo fo, it was good to communicate with another of my kind.

Then last night we ran into Fred Patacchia

and we got into a conversation about Budweiser, mostly because he and another pro-guy were on their way to the Budweiser party at Turtle Bay. Here he is surfing.

I said, "Have you tried Budlight Lime? It's disgusting. It tastes like soap."

Fred replied, "What kind of soap? Like Dove, or Dawn?"

After consideration I replied, "Like Dawn. Lemon Dawn."

"At least you can do the dishes and get drunk at the same time," he said.

We agreed that it's best never to do anything sober, or with lime, involving Bud. He had a strange look on his face though.

As Janna and I were driving away, she said, "You know, that guy is a pro and he's sponsored by Budweiser."

This racks up a solid handful of pros I've keenly been unaware of and made fun of to their face, either about their sponsor, or their clothing, whatever. I told Janna to have me shut my mouth in the next circumstance like this we might face, but she thanked me instead for shaving down the egos of these promiscuous pros who dog girls and get to surf empty breaks around the world, leading their tough pedestal lives (as she summed up), even if I just get the chance for a moment.

That's cool.

Monday Morning

Most people are up and out to work, but here on the North Shore that consists of getting up and watching the waves. I'm actually not quite sure what we're looking for here for so long. I only need about 7 to 10 minutes to check the scene beyond our yard, but the dudes in the houses to the left and right of us will go and look out at the ocean for sometimes half an hour. I suppose sets do come in and out like that, but they don't really differ from the first set I witness. I glance out the window, and yup, the four dudes that were there a while ago are still looking.

Anyway, I have it in my heart that at the end of these three weeks I will have improved my surf capabilities. I can't get any worse, since I've been pummeled and caught on the lips of waves and my arms are exhausted. I'm trying to work up the energy to head over to Hale'iwa, about 10 miles west of here to join Paul's girl Janna in a yoga class. Sitting here on this laptop is just so easy though. Perhaps I can take a stretch by myself a little later. I'm good at weaseling out of things I know I need to do for my body.

Injury Report

Perhaps I shouldn't jinx myself by writing a title like that. Not many injuries to report quite yet, just little annoying ones, like hip bruises and rib calluses from the surfboard, feet cuts and shoulder aches. I wake up and they annoy me though, and I just woke up.

I don't know why I keep swallowing so much water. I've been pounded on the head by sets before and lost in the washing machine of waves, but this time around I seem to get caught with my mouth open. Salt water in the belly is upsetting. Mixed with coffee and chocolate - breakfast of champions.

Looking out at the waves again today and the people staring at the waves, and every morning so far it's nice because it feels like we're in this together. There goes another cat riding his bike through the grass in the yard in front of me to stare a the ocean. He must be 50.

I suppose my generation will be the first to support the old women in the water. I haven't seen any over 40, ever. If I have to move here and practice for the next 7 years so I can be in the water at 40 and not get pounded, well, then, I do what I have to do to keep pushing the female sex to the next level.

Oahu North Shore

It's been some time since I've blogged, or done anything really. Per the request of my friend Paul who I'm crashing with for the next three weeks, I will be writing every day while I'm here on Oahu, North Shore, getting ready for the season of snow, surfing every day, and tanning my butt. Things are looking good so far, the mere 30 hours I've been here.



You see, I used to be a really good writer, or so Paul thinks. I wrote him 9 page letters from Africa and emails years ago that he told me changed his writing. That's not so hard when he used to write me letters that were much like Jack Handy's, from SNL. Yeah. I'm still out of practice, but he really believes in my once polished craft, so I'll humor him and write again, just for the sake of writing.



I'm sitting here at his desk looking out at the waves. This is what it looks like:



In the morning, people line up at the back of their houses and stare out at the ocean, like we're all at some giant surf camp, and the day is beginning again. To the left and right they saunter down their yards to the beach with board in hand, and go out and slide the ocean all day. There's no work up here, though there is a Starbucks. That, Foodland, and a place called Ted's which serves MahiMahi sandwiches which gave me the most incredible gas while in the water yesterday, are the only establishments within a few miles. Of course, I wouldn't be outraged if there was a Starbucks in the Sarhara by now. They're everywhere and oh so yummy. So my fellow campers and I surf. They surf all day every day. At this time I'm mostly paddling around and trying not to get knocked up by the ocean. In three weeks time I pray that I can report my skills will be much better.



I'm off to go stare at the ocean with my cohorts now. Blog One Day Two Out my brothers and sisters.

At Tahoe City Library on a Wednesday at 4:30 P.M. with all the other 70 year olds.

Sexy.

I got 5th place at Nationals. It wasn't awesome, but it surely wasn't bad. Great race, and I was just a hair off hitting the finals and killing it. Here's what a friend wrote to me anyway:

"5th, that's awesome. Would it have been funny if i started it out with,'5th, 5th just means you lost 4 times worst that the person who came in second'?
No but seriously that is fantastic. I wish i was there in my thong to spray champagne all over the place. Ehhh why do i need to do it there.. maybe i'll go out after work and do it to a stranger coming out of there office. I'll act like they just won something and there will be confetti and me in a thong spraying champagne."

Thanks Spoony. It's nice having freaks of my own. Some people call them friends.

While my computer is getting over its virus and I'm waiting for pictures and video to come in of the races, I will get back to this with a really cool final multi-media showing next week.

It was a good year.

Gliding on the Snow

No one, except Olympic skiers, their wax techs, guys in the back rooms at SOME board shops, the Start Haus in Truckee, and Rob from the snowboard team have a grasp on the complication of race waxing. I'd begin to explain but I'm still working on getting a clue. For those of you that don't know, basically there's hotboxing and base grinds, high fluoro wax, graphite, overlays, rub on wax, hot wax, new snow wax, old snow wax, temperature of the snow (we have a thermometer we stick in the snow), temperature of the air, humidity, iron temperature for hot wax, spray on wax, travel wax, wax that looks like cocaine or powdered sugar you dash on the base and rub in with cork just before jumping in the start gates, and speaking of, I've been told there's wax more expensive per gram than cocaine; there's horse hair brushes, soft brushes, brass brushes, umm other brushes . . .

Don't touch the base of your snowboard with your hands or the oils from your skin may get into the base. Don't put a hot iron on a cold snowboard or you could delaminate the thing. Take off your bindings or the screws could expand in the board when you put a hot iron on it. It's best to wait all night then scrape in the morning for it all to really absorb. If you really want to glide it's recommended to brush a lot, 45 minutes or so.

I had no idea until this year. We've gotten very detailed. I'd say they're testy planks of wood and fiber glass.

It'd be dope to rub soap on the bottom and see how that sends the dang thing down the hill, although I think it's illegal, like a spitball.

Tomorrow is Nationals Finals in Open Class in Boardercross, some of the best kids in the nation will bang into each other down the course. Delightful.

USASA NATIONALS

Sorry for the delay in keeping this up to date. It's still difficult not having internet in Tahoma, because of our tree cover, and living off the grid. I figured out I'm more isolated with my inability to get cell reception and the internet, than my brother, who was in Afghanistan, emailing me all the time. He even had a cell phone sometimes, and said he got lattes at the Bagram Base's coffee shop, Cool Beans, or something like that. I have to trek 11 miles from my house to get a latte. Jeez.


I'm back here in Colorado for USASA Nationals, the amateur snowboarding association's finals, http://www.usasa.org/. We had to race in our local series all year to qualify. There are about 3,000 athletes, competing in all snowboard disciplines for 6 days. Slalom, Giant Slalom, Pipe, Slopestyle, and Boadercross, of course. We've taken over the hill, kids from 8 years old to 60. I'm in Open Class, made up of ex pros, up-and-coming pros, and just a mix of really great athletes. The venues are set up all over the mountain and we rotate to other venues each day, like the Olympics, or the Decathlon.

Monday and Tuesday I raced Slalom and Giant Slalom, shown above. I placed 8th, out of 18 or something, but it's not one I really care too much about. The girls who beat me wore speed suits and hard boots, I raced in soft boots and regular bindings. There might have been wind drag from my baggy pants, I don't know. It matters to me how my form is, and my coach said I looked the best I ever have charging around the gates.

Now some rest, then onto Boardercross Friday! Last competition of the year!

Here's me in Oregon, which looks like I'm out of control going over the spine, but when I pump I throw my arms up in the air, then down, in case you're not familiar with Boardercross at all.

Just Back from the Vet Hospital

I've had a suspicion my dog and I are connected to each other beyond love and friendship - we feel each others' pain. At least that's what it seems like lately. I went to the hospital and got stitches. He went to the hospital, got a staple in his head. I have a bum right shoulder, now he has a bum right shoulder.

People wanted a picture of my hand with my stitches - well here it is.

Here is the staple in Snowy's head.

As the vet would describe it, "The little guy was pretty much hit with a mack truck." I thought he was in pain just now because he kept doing that dog whining thing. But I just spoke to the vet on the phone and apparently I've overdrugged him. He's just really high on morphine, and wants to voice himself.

All of this is because an Alaskan Malamute attacked Snowy in front of my house on the street. I managed to join the fray and pull that dog (who was gigantic) off of my dog. I thought my pup was going to lose his eye, perhaps have broken ribs, etc. etc. I've never heard him cry so loud in my life, and there was blood in his eye. We were saved by a lady named Beth who was driving by and witnessed the whole thing. She yelled for me to get in the car, I grabbed Snowy, crying and all, and we were off to the hospital. She told me I was crazy to jump in there, but I couldn't just stand by and watch my dog get torn apart. It would have been the equivalent of Barry Bonds jumping onto a midget, or something like that. This punk dog must've been 160 lbs. He was bigger than me. Snowy weighs 27 lbs. Luckily, I didn't get bitten, but if it was a pit bull I'd be dead. I'm pretty sure of that. Snowy seems to be okay now, other than just being really doped up because of his mom.

This has been a harrowing week (along with the past few). Thank god I get to go back to snowboarding tomorrow - where it's safe.

Just Back From The Hospital

Did not injure myself snowboarding this time, but cutting steak and managing to nearly slice my thumb off. There's blood on the cabinets in the kitchen because I flung my hand through the air in a state of shock. Yum.

I was sitting at the hospital putting pressure on my hand, when the nurse needed to take a look at it and pulled away my gauze. She fiddled around then left me, with no gauze. I didn't have anything to put pressure on the wound with, so my hand just lay there, blood forming a puddle around it on the sheet. It took me back to the time I accompanied my friend J. Evil to see a play of the "Night of the Living Dead." People wore plastic bags and the actors squirted blood into the audience throughout the play, so that by the end there were red rivers floating down the aisles. It was delightful. At the hospital just now, I literally sat there as people walked by and blood ran from my hand. It didn't hurt, so I didn't want to be a baby and ask for more gauze. Nobody ever said anything; it was a little strange, just letting it bleed. I wonder if every time I go to the hospital I'll think of that play we went to. The Living Dead folk really got the color of blood right.

These days I give thanks every Sunday for another week I stay alive. It would seem I'm trying to destroy my body one limb at a time.

Back to the mountain on Wednesday. Pray I don't open up the stitches. Must run for now, it hurts to type and it's taking forever.

A Little Bit About the Oregon Stop of the Revolution Tour

This picture is from the Oregon stop of the Revolution Tour last weekend. Much to talk about, now that my computer is up and running and I've gotten my pictures organized again. The riders below are shaving down the lip of the 2nd feature. You see, you pull out of gates, go down and up over a jump, then there was a quarterpipe, which we were supposed to clear and go over, but which really sent almost all the riders way into the back seat and flipping over the thing. This was, most definitely, the funniest boardercross course I've ever been on. They way we all rode it kept cracking me up. I was lucky not to reinjure my shoulder, which is feeling much better now. I rode conservatively, made it to finals anyway, and placed 10th out of 25. Okay for not really charging. Mostly I had fun.

I will post video through Youtube when I get a moment. Enjoy these for now.















Funny enough, the feature I was most nervous about ended up being my favorite. After the quarter pipe, a big bank turn to a road/gap drop off. The drop off was pretty fun.

How can anyone not love Boardercross?

Video to come.

Missing the Blogging

Computer blew up, on the road and back from Oregon, still no internet, trying to get better mobile service - I miss blogging everyday. I have much to say and we'll have to backtrack. Must reload picture downloading/viewing program first.

Standby.

Valentine's Day Pillow Fight

I had a joyous Valentine's Day last year. This was my experience:



San Francisco, Justin Herman Plaza, 2,500 + single people in a pillow fight. Waves of feathers floated through the air for hours afterward. Be sure to check out the guy near the end of the video wailing on people with two pillows.


I know there's nothing like that up here in Tahoe, but if you're in SF, check it:

We Need More Body Armor

This year I've suffered a few more injuries than I'm used to, but today, I realized it's okay. I also realized that last night. I have a bruised rib from a boardercross race yesterday (1st place points for USASA Nationals in Colorado in April - auh yeah), and I still have this shoulder problem. My coach cracked two ribs at the Jeep King of the Mountain, and Rob, my teammate, hurt his ribecage as well. Let's all take a moment to breathe now.

Brady, another kid on the team, broke his arm in boardercross yesterday after being run over by another guy on his snowboard in the course. Lauren, an old teammate, separated her shoulder at the Jeep King of the Mountain final kicker. We're riddled with injuries, but to me, it only means I'm getting my feet back under me, and charging hard again. Last night at the River Ranch, Seth the bartender asked me what was wrong, since I was walking around holding my rib cage. Hurt again, I told him. Three people looked at me as I passed and one girl said, "Now, is it all worth it?"

Without hesitation I answered stoutly and with a smile, "Absolutely." I love this stuff. A few people nodded in agreement. I mean, this is Tahoe. We ride and fall, and some people never get to ride at all. Injury forces you to do better, if you can come back stronger.

Jeep King of the Mountain . . .

. . . is making me climb up the walls. I hate missing events. Man I wish I could race in this one. The course looks absolutely too fun and I'm getting my boards dialed in. Next year, next year, next year. I want me some Jeep.

I'm trying my best to take it easy and heal this shoulder, but it's hard - taking it easy I mean.

The view from the Siberia Chair. Looks like Pick-Up-Sticks, the game of physical and mental skill in which sticks have to be removed from a pile without disturbing the remaining ones. I failed at this because I'm on the one-arm-program with my bad shoulder and hold it close to my body; I walked through this a few moments later, and nearly tripped over three boards. Graceful.

Darn, I need this shoulder back for balance.

Dashing in a picture of Shawn Palmer, because . . . um, well, he exists. Standing next to him makes me feel fast, and young.

Mountain Folk for Pheasadent

Snow banks are high, this one about 12 ft. maybe, in Truckee.

What would be great is if some guy peed Hilary's name right next to this. Or Barack's.

I'd supply the beer, because we'll need a lot of fuel.

- Back to the mountain.

The Clam Bank Turn

SBX NorAM, Colorado. On this most recent and tricky little course, one feature schnagled our whole team. It was about 1/3 of the way down the course, a "Clam Bank Turn", as Rob liked to call it, because it resembled a clam shell. Two rollers on top of a bank turn, then a small curb/drop-off to flat, and a kicker/roller all smashed into about 15 curved yards. The problem was, if you lost any control, were just a hair slow, or your timing was off, you ended up bouncing off the rollers/clam grooves, or didn't clear the jump and knuckled. I knuckled, as did most of the girls, 2nd run, 1st day. Something is wrong with my rotator cuff on my right shoulder now, but I'm not worried. I didn't have enough speed when I thought I did, bounced right off the knuckle before the transition, and landed on my right shoulder. Two days later Lauren would fracture/bruise her hip on the same spot. Rob fell on it too, and the Yac Yam http://onemountain.blogspot.com/2008/02/patricia-sacrificial-lamb.html lost a first place spot in a fumble there.

We ended up calling it the Claim Bank Turn, because it claimed our team.

It's hard to find anyone to photograph or film me racing because everyone is in the process of preparing their boards or in line to race too. The above is me just before the race, relaxed and bundled in a lot of body armour gear.

PS:
This is funny, if you're looking for something more to watch. I didn't know Sarah Silverman dated Jimmy Kimmel. If anyone wants to continue telling me I am similar to her, that's fine for now because this is a good one.



I'd f*%% Matt Damon and date Jimmy Kimmel. That'd be entertaining.

Patricia, The Sacrificial Lamb

First off, I want to thank Evil from Potreto Hill for this: http://www.brackmedia.com/screenclean/ Please go there. It's nice.

Just back from Copper Mountain, Colorado. It was there we picked up P. Holland, brother of Nate Holland, who just won X Games Gold in Boardercross for the 3rd time. Okay, great, cool. P. Holland was in X Boardercross too, but he fell in the quarterfinals, or semis, and ended up taking out another guy in the same race his brother was in. The announcer jovially called him the "Sacrificial Lamb." During this trip we took to the title given him. Every time P. left the room, was at the back of the van, on the race course, we'd say things like, "Where's the Sacrificial Lamb?" "Is the Sacrificial Lamb done tying down the snowboards?" "How did the Sacrificial Lamb do in time trials?"

Bless that EXPN announcer. Sacrificial Lamb. That just kills me.

By Thursday night, Little Lauren doped up on vicotin for her bruised/fractured hip, and me enjoying beer and loopy exhaustion, started mixing P's for R's and starting words with Y's - so he became "Ratricia, The Yacrificial Yam."

We hacked in and changed a few things on the Yac Yam's myspace site as well. Yeah, P. Holland commands a lot of respect and adoration in our crew.

This kind of stuff is fun for me now.

Back to Colorado?

It's the 4th week in January and the 3rd place I'm heading this month. Yipee for February. SBX NorAm race Wednesday AND Thursday, so this should be good. It will also be good to get home and dig my dog out from under the pile of clothes in my room.

Forgot my handy cord so I can't put any new pictures up. Look, I'm busy, I can't even find my binding straps, all I do is pack and unpack my car, so I forgot. Sheesh. Sorry. New and exciting blogs will be coming this way as yes people, we will be getting internet at my house next week on the West Shore. Thank God. 2008 is it?

So the update for now is there's lots of snow. All I've been doing is leaning on my back leg and surfing the stuff.

Big thanks this week to Sean for hooking up Plumpjacks so we could walk right onto the hill. Big sissy - didn't want to get up early. And Solomon, for another two pairs of goggles. Adidas rock, especially when they're free. Now I can see, if only I can get up the nerve to wear those damn contacts, I might just win one of these days.

"Two shorten the road."

"Yes, and 8 jackass snowboards make it unbearably long," I thought when I glanced up at the Irish proverb on a sign at a restaurant we ate at near Denver airport, after the chaos of the trip.


Two delayed and re-routed checked bags, one misplaced snowboard bag, one lost (or stolen) snowboard bag with about $2,000 of equipment, two arguments with coaches, 10 squished and uncomfortable car rides, 2 frenzied drives to the races and course inspections, and much bickering over trivial things (like where to watch practice video) later, I come home from Revolution Tour stop #2, Copper Mountain, Colorado.


This was the most uncomfortable and irritating trip I have been on with the team. It was the twilight zone of snowboard bags, things lost and misplaced and still not found. Bummer to lose equipment. I didn't lose anything, except the race.


As for that, 42 girls did a time trial each. The top 16 go to finals to get a chance to compete with one another, and win a spot at the Grand Prix in Idaho next month. But, you guessed it, I got 17th. Yuck. I ran a 52.12 second race, the girl in 16th was at 51.55. Jeeez. Okay, I'm riding better, I love these courses, my knee feels great, and a two year hiatus from boardercross is long, but I won't be at peace until I place well. I was so frustrated I didn't watch much of the finals, snowboarded off to ride pipe at the mountain, and didn't really say much to the rest of the team.

I cruised back to watch our fruitcake coaches place 3rd and 4th. I stood about halfway down the course with 5 other people, riders and officials. Riders crashed and flew off course here and there, and after each race the officials had to confirm their section of the course was ready. I listened to the walkie-talkies "Finish: Clear," "Section 5: Clear," all the way to section 1 and "Start: Clear." Then a woman's voice with an Australian accent would announce, "Riders on course." 4 riders would sail over the first jump 5 seconds later, then through the 8 or 9 bank turns that snaked down to the finish. I thought of the conversation the night before, about the fact that the best racers have been around for a long time, and have miles of race courses under their belt. Even younger kids who are 17 and killing it, have been racing since they were 10 years old. Boardercross is a style of riding that takes some time to learn, like pipe and slopestyle. To me it's beautiful because it's fluid, exciting, and unpredictable. I listened to one rider who stood next to me after he was knocked out call it "lotto-cross." The best rider might be clipped by another guy and someone else advances.

At this point I was okay with not making finals, but of course not satisfied. It might take a little more time, more races, but I've improved a lot since I began. I want to be back where I was, and go further than before.

Back to Copper Mt. on Monday for two races for the SBX NorAm: http://www.ussa.org/magnoliaPublic/ussa/en/events/snowboarding/competitions/sbxnoram.html

Happy and excited for that one.


Meanwhile the USASA series begins at Alpine on Saturday. It's good to be home for the moment.

“Fall seven times, stand up eight.” - Proverb

I crashed over the 2nd big booter in the Belmont park at Squaw Monday, resulting in some large bloody cuts on my right hip, some pain breathing that night, and today as well. It looked like I was trying to do a 180, I was told. I wasn’t - just got off center. I almost like big crashes now, as long as there's no hospitalization. I have something to learn, something to prove to myself still. Or at least that’s what I tell myself after I crash.

This is what the day looked like anyway:










Hey, I'm not in an office, so that's still cool.

Baggage Claim at SFO

SFO is funny. I mean, c'mon. This was the last bag. We saw it as we waited for our "oversized luggage" snowboards to arrive. We were the only ones left though.

I'm curious if the last beer of the night, my last meaningful relationship, the last drag of that joint, the last dollar in my bank account, the last bit of sanity I had are in there too. What's in this suitcase? Really.

I bet there's a bunch of Superman Underoos underwear in there. That'd be funny for the Federal Aviation Authorities to discover.

Blasted! I should've opened it. Thwarted by electrical tape again.

"If Everything Seems Under Control, You're Just Not Going Fast Enough."

Duluth, Minnesota. Revolution Tour Stop #1. My first race in two years.

Here's a drawing of the boardercross course we saw taped to the table at registration. I took a picture because I though it was funny. They never have diagrams for us. Triple, table top, kicker/drop-off thing, bank turn, feature, feature, step up . . . I memorize the course in my head. Pretty fun, although a slow course. Yup, Minnesota.


Here's a short video of a practice run at the top of the course with friends. I'm in the black helmet, brown jacket in the middle. I looked good, I felt good, but I didn't place well in the time trials. I can't stand time trials. I just don't feel like I'm really racing and I tend to relax a bit instead of turning the heat on. It takes some getting used to.

So I think I have to scare myself a bit more, hit everything high speed, and remember that "If Everything Seems Under Control, You're Just Not Going Fast Enough." Auh yeah, Mario Andretti.

It was fun, I felt strong. I'm looking forward to shaving the seconds off my time that I need, and hopefully getting to knock a few people down in a race. All's well for getting a course back under my feet after my hiatus.

Duluth, Minnesota

Team loaded and headed to Minnesota. This is what the general picture looks like. We haul our snowboards, waxing kits, helmets, luggage through airports, car rentals, escalators - I'm looking at another 3.2 months of this. Greeaate.

On the plane I started thinking about emergency/evacuation cards:

"Oxygen gets you high. In a catastrophic emergency, you're taking giant panicked breaths. Suddenly you become euphoric, docile. You accept your fate. It's all right here. Emergency water landing - 600 miles an hour. Blank faces, calm as Hindu cows. " - Tyler Durden, Fight Club.

This picture is whack. With the number of passengers who look at these cards, the amount of travelling that goes on every moment of the day, you'd think they could find a decent artist to draw a few pictures of people getting high.

This kid in the blue looks like a troll. The artist couldn't even get him to look like he's sitting. Maybe the angle of my shot isn't the best . . . no, trust me, it's bad. Who was the artist for all these evacuation cards, the Chairman of the Federal Aviation Authority's retarded son?

I also got to thinking about oxygen. If it's a drug and it really makes us calm, docile, then why doesn't every household have a tank on hand? Seems better than prozac, whiskey, whatever you inhale, for those moments of extreme stress or arguments over nothing. Just take a mask and a big inhalation and everything will slow down - answers, logic, and peace will will present themselves. Right?

I would dig some oxygen right now.

This guy is also weird looking. Anyone seen the movie, "The Mask"?

Blizzard

I've been inside all day. I've organized my bank records, my medical records, moved into my new house . . . watched many movies. Is this why I quit my job and left all my friends in SF? Jeez. It better be pretty stellar on Monday, after this storm has passed. By that time I'll be at my first comp in Minnesota. Minnesota for godsakes. Blech.

We can't leave here. I feel like I'm on house arrest. 145 mph winds? I wonder what that really feels like.

My god I'm bored. At least someone send me a good man and some massage oil! That would be something.

Maybe I'll do yoga, or meditate. Meditate about a good man and massage oil.

I can feel my brain shrinking. I miss you stimulus. Tell everyone I say hello.

POST BLIZZARD:

Snowy and Disel on the street in 3' or 4' of fresh snow. Yes, that is my street. Deep man. Deeeep.

Here It Comes

...THE STRONGEST OF A SERIES OF STORMS WILL AFFECT THE REGION FRIDAY AND FRIDAY NIGHT BRINGING HIGH WINDS AND HEAVY SNOW....SIGNIFICANT SNOW ACCUMULATIONS AND STRONG WINDS WILL CREATE DANGEROUS AND POSSIBLY LIFE THREATENING WINTER DRIVING CONDITIONS FRIDAY THROUGH SATURDAY MORNING...MAKING TRAVEL NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE ACROSS SIERRA PASSES. - www.weather.gov/reno

Life threatening eh? This reminds me of all the times I have had to sign those competition disclaimers that read statements like this: "Boardercross is a dangerous and potentially life threatening sport. I hereby promise not to sue that crap outta this mountain or the United States Snowboarding Association if my participation in this race results in serious injury or death, broken teeth, the need for facial reconstruction, and total loss of all pleasure or ease in such simple acts as walking and bending over when I am 57, if I am to actually reach such an age ." I find those hard to sign, at times, depending on how hung over I am of course. Sometimes it's just amusing.

The first big storm is coming, and I feel like we're going into bomb shelters up here. My friend, my roommates, even my dog (you better take your crap now buddy) are preparing - stocking up on food, movies, lot and lots of condoms, er, and, good books. Yes, good books. It's annoying and it's stimulating to be both victim and victor to the lashing of the weather again. Stuck inside while 110 mph winds blow through the whiteout, and riding the 8 feet of fresh snow down the mountain when it's done. RIDERS ON THE STORM. In San Francisco, there are two seasons: Foggy and Not Foggy, High 72° Low 52°. November, May, whatever - I often forget what month it is when I'm walking down the street on a sunny day in that city. Hawaii is the same, roughly, except for the size of the waves.

If I write again, you'll know I didn't make the mistake of driving through the LIFE THREATENING Sierra Passes on my way to get my nails done. If not, well, it was a good run, but not that good. I never have climbed a palm tree to its top with my bare feet and hands - one of my life goals. Sad.

I've got to make it to the spring.