It got a bit sketchy on the up this morning.
I live in the Wasatch mountains. I have for my entire life. I have walked and pedaled all over them for decades. I know them as I know an old friend. And yet, I feel as if I am only beginning to discover the Wasatch.
For some years I fought the winter. I demonized it. I ridiculed it. I dreaded it. Those days are over. I am done simply tolerating the snow. I will no longer curse the cold. I am done bitterly denouncing the long and dark Utah winter.
I will now embrace it, love it, and become a part of it.
And like peace after war, or light after dark, I will enjoy the summer months more so than I ever have before. The contrast between the heat and the cold and the dirt and the snow will be more pronounced, more appreciated, and more distinct than the simple and categorical seasons.
After our dawn patrol this morning, I hung my wet coat and pants to dry in the garage. Not on a rack or a hanger, or even on a nail. I hung them on the handlebars of my single speed.
And that innocent display of practicality sums up where my heart is right now.
The down, on the other hand, was not so sketchy.