|Owen and I cranking up Stevens Canyon|
Last week as a dozen teammates and myself pedaled around Mt. Rainier, which gave me a lot of time to ponder life and the luck I’ve had. My most significant lucky streak has been with my family. I was born into a top notch family, I met and married an awesome chick – no regrets no complaints - and, best of all, I have these two kids who, and I might be slightly biased here, are the two most wonderful children on the planet – despite the daily headaches they give me.
I was also lucky enough to be born extremely healthy. In two weeks I’ll be forty eight, but I feel twenty four. I’ve never had any health issues – major or minor – I eat whenever and whatever I want and never gain a pound, my eyes are 20/20, and my hair is still mostly on top of my head and not in my ears or nose. The fact that I can get on a bike and ride hard for one hundred and fifty miles up and over three major passes without any special training, diet or suffering leaves me feeling very lucky.
The third aspect of luck that I try not to take for granted is my friendships. I’m not a super gregarious guy, I’m not everybody’s good buddy, but I have a radar for good people; I have a natural knack for surrounding myself with people of the highest caliber. There are probably two dozen bike teams here in the Seattle area, but somehow – we can call it luck – I managed to get on one of the best, if not the best. When I go to races I’m not jealous or envious of any other team, because I’m on the coolest team there – not to mention the fact that we have the most kick ass kits.
We had a dozen guys riding one hundred and fifty hard fought miles together, not everything went as planned, but to my knowledge not a mean or angry word was said. I love that. I love going out and throwing down hard with good people.