Permission to Suck

This phrase has been on my mind a lot lately. I'm not exactly sure where I first heard, but it seems to have more-or-less originated David Kadavy. And I know I've often read Seth Godin talking about taking risks and embracing failure as part of doing something meaningful.

The thing is, if I only do things that I'm good at, I'm not exploring my boundaries. If I refuse to suck at something, I can't do anything new. I've mentioned before that my friend Jim says that you're allowed to suck at anything for the first year. If I play my cards right, I'll always be sucking at something.

So here are a few things I've been sucking at this year.

Swimming

Somehow I made it through childhood without learning how to swim properly. So I decided I was going to learn how to swim this year. It would open up a number of opportunities for me like triathlons, kayaking, etc. I was going to sign up for lessons at the local rec center during the summer, but the class filled up too quickly. So my family and I started just going to the pool once a week while school was out.

It turns out that chasing kids around the pool is a bad way to learn how to swim. The best I could do was try to float on my back in the kiddie pool and find my balance in the water. My legs still seem to want to sink, but I guess it helped get me more comfortable with things.

A coworker had given me a book about swimming technique, and some of the ideas from that were floating around in the back of my mind. So while we were at the hotel pool during our Thanksgiving Getaway, I was surprised to discover that I was suddenly able to swim from one end of the pool to the other. Not very well, mind you. I was expending much more energy than I thought should be necessary. But I was doing it. I even managed a back stroke. As long as I can practice a bit more often, I'm pretty sure I can get to a point where I can feel okay saying that I know how to swim.

Slacklining

This just looked like a lot of fun. I've never had very good balance, and it's something that I'm trying to improve. My wife wasn't thrilled with the idea of spending the money on a slackline when we don't have anywhere in the yard to rig it up. But when I came across a Gibbon line at an REI yard sale, I had to grab it.

This has given me an interesting opportunity to be terrible at something in public. The only places I've been able to practice are at parks and at the office. But it doesn't really matter. Honestly, I expected people to laugh at me a lot more than they do. Instead, they mostly seem curious. And of course some make jokes about me needing a pole like tight-rope walkers use. I wonder if seeing someone going through those first stumbling steps of failure while learning something new encourages others to overcome some fear they might have of taking on new challenges of their own.

Skiing

This one is brand new for me. I decided some time during the summer that this winter I was finally going to learn how to ski. My real interest is in backcountry ski mountaineering kinds of things, but that doesn't seem like a great environment to learn in for an absolute beginner. So it's groomed slopes and lifts for me right now. Still, I want to learn using the same gear that I'll some day be using on more adventurous terrain, so rather than renting the equipment, I hunted down some bargains and got the best gear that I could without breaking the bank. Now I'm financially committed to doing this.

Last Sunday, after we got back from Utah, I drove up to Loveland and signed up for a first-timer lesson. I happened to meet the instructor while I was sitting around waiting for the class to start. I told him that he was going to think my alpine touring setup was kind of weird, but he seemed to think my rationale was sound.

Those big floppy skis were every bit as awkward as I thought they would be on the hard-packed resort slopes. But it all basically worked just fine, and the lesson was a ton of fun. I'm going back tomorrow for another lesson and more practice. I don't know that I'll be descending any backcountry couloirs this year, but I'll get there eventually.

Rock Climbing

Okay, I have to say that considering I've only been climbing since about May or June, I feel pretty good about how my skills are developing. But the best I've been able to do so far is top-roping some of the 5.10 routes at the gym. Somehow I've got it in my mind that you have to be able to lead 5.11s before you can really consider yourself a good climber. That's probably not accurate or fair, but apparently it's the standard I'm holding myself against.

My very first climbing experience was at a little introductory course at the REI store in Denver. It was a very safe and encouraging environment to suck in. Everyone there was starting at the same place I was, so there was no pressure to be good at it. But taking the next step by going to a climbing gym full of people who know what they're doing was really intimidating.

When it comes to being intimidated by something that I really want to do, I find myself having to just stare in the mirror, or so to speak, and telling myself, "Get over it." So the first time or two, I went by myself, played around in the bouldering cave, rediscovered some humility, and having a really good time. Once my daughter started going with me, it got a little easier. It always helps to have someone around that you know, even if they're six years old.

F and I are getting better and better all the time, I think, and I'm not so self-conscious about being mediocre as I was at first. It's been a great way for us to spend some bonding time, and we're both learning a lot about pushing ourselves to improve. She sent a 5.7 last Thursday that she'd been working on for a while. It was so cool to see the thrill of achievement in her eyes.

So...

For me, sucking at something can be a big motivator to work harder. Nobody likes being awful at something they're trying to do. But it's the all-important first phase of learning something new. Embrace it, and once you stop sucking at whatever your thing may be, find something new to suck at while you enjoy the feeling of excelling at the old thing.

So what are you sucking at these days? I love to hear the enthusiasm of someone who's found a new pursuit that's worth struggling for.

Thanksgiving Getaway

I'm a little slow blogging about Thanksgiving. So much so that it's already being relegated to my cluttered drawer of memories. But honestly, if I have a choice between blogging and going out and doing something fun, the fun is going to win every time. Sorry, guys.

For quite a while now I've been wanting to get out of town, at least for a couple of days. And even with a four-day weekend, a couple of days were all we had - C had things to do closer to home on Saturday. So we seized on the opportunity to make a quick trip which we had intended to do a couple of months ago but were unable. As so often is the case for me, this inspiration struck me while pushing my mouse around on Google Maps.

Flaming Gorge is an area in northeastern Utah in the Ashley National Forest. The Green River is dammed up to create a large reservoir that spans the border with Wyoming. I didn't know anything about the place, but it looked worth checking out. And Dinosaur National Monument is right in that area, too, so between the two, I expected that the family should be able to find a good time.

I left work early on Wednesday, we hopped in the truck, and headed west on I-70. At Rifle, Colorado, we headed north through the dark on state highways, dodging the occasional deer in the road. Around 10:00 we pulled in to our hotel in Vernal, Utah.

On Thursday we got around relatively early and headed out. Some of the food we had meant to bring from home was forgotten, so we stopped by a grocery store to pick up the ingredients for our Thanksgiving feast - PB&J sandwiches!

The drive from Vernal to Flaming Gorge winds through hills full of geologic and paleontologic interest. There were several road-side signs describing the kinds of fossils found in each area, much of which had formerly been a prehistoric coastline. Most of the amenities at the Gorge were closed for the season, but that was okay with us. Had we planned on camping, it would have been more of a problem. We drove across the dam and around the reservoir, taking in some scenery.

Flaming Gorge dam

Flaming Gorge reservoir

Worrying that any more time in the truck would result in a munchkin mutiny, we turned back to the main road and parked at the Swett Ranch trail head. By that time, the sun had warmed things up as much as it was going to, but it was still quite cool. So we bundled up, grabbed our packs, and went for a hike down one of the forest service roads. Lots more deer in the area.

F, M, and C hiking down a forest service road

Swett Ranch is situated in the valley between the highway and the reservoir. It was a picturesque setting.

Swett Ranch

A stand of aspen near Swett Ranch

M with sticks, wielding his trekking pole

F, who isn't so much into sticks

We found some rocks just off the trail where we could sit and have our lunch. Then, back to the trail head. After relaxing in the hotel room for a little bit, we went down and played in the swimming pool for a while. There weren't many restaurants open that evening, so supper was of the microwaveable variety supplied by the grocery store, eaten in our room at whatever tables and floor space we could make work.

Friday, after breakfast, we packed most of our stuff and then headed back to the pool. Then back on the road. The internet told us that the visitor's center on the Colorado side of Dinosaur National Monument was closed for the season. So we decided to make for the Utah side instead. A quick glance at the map told me that a non-highway route should be straight-forward, but I missed a turn and we ended up taking a long, very pretty drive to a dead end at a fish hatchery at Jones Hole. Backtrack and take the highway. Lose a couple of hours. No big deal.

Some cliffs near Jones Hole, UT

There are hourly tours to a dinosaur fossil quarry from the visitor's center. This quarry turns out to be an ancient river bed which was lifted up and turned about 70 degrees. The man who discovered and excavated it arranged for the bones to be left in place and a structure erected over it, so you get to see everything preserved as it was embedded in the earth millions of years ago. I think the ranger said there are some 1500 fossils in this wall.

Dinosaur quarry

F posing near an allosaurus skeleton (cast)

You can touch some of the fossils

We returned home by the same route we took on Wednesday, and much on the same schedule. We were back to I-70 just after sundown, so I was able to see the deer in the road much better this time. We were kind of burned out on listening to music, so we listened to a few episodes of the Dirtbag Diaries which were cached on my phone. We got home at 10:00, happy to sleep in our own beds again. Which is to say, we were happy for the kids to each have their own beds - those two trying to share a bed in the same room as C and me just doesn't work very well.

So it was a bit of a whirlwind getaway, but it was just what I needed. I got to spend Thanksgiving with two of the things I'm most grateful for: my family and the beauty of nature. And we got a chance to show the kids that experience is more valuable than unnecessarily large meals. As far as adventure goes, it may seem pretty pedestrian, but it was possibly the best Thanksgiving I've ever had.

I have no idea.

A Sunday on Mt. Meeker

It's been a couple of months since the last time I got out for a really good hike on my own. Not that I haven't been out at all - I've gone on group hikes with CMC folks, either as part of the Wilderness Trekking School class I took, or as part of the prerequisite work for taking their Basic Mountaineering School next spring. But there's something very different about group hiking - it's not quite what I'm usually looking for when I venture out into the mountains. So with a break in my schedule and some inspiration gained while looking at some topo maps, I struck out yesterday on a gem of a route that doesn't get a whole lot of attention.

Mount Meeker, in the southeastern part of Rocky Mountain National Park, is one of the more prominent peaks visible from Denver. But if people know which one it is, they usually think of it as being the thing in front of Longs Peak. But it turns out that it's a great mountain in its own right that merits a closer look.

The feature on the map that captured my imagination was Meeker Ridge, which extends southeast from the summit. So that was the route I chose. Meeker also shares another approach with Longs Peak on the Loft route. But I did that one back in September, and the best parts of that climb are after the turn-off to Meeker.

View Meeker Ridge in a larger map

I drove to the end of CR 113n in Meeker Park on Sunday morning. Daylight savings time had just ended, so the sun was already up by the time I hit the trail at 7:15. The weather was pleasantly cool, and there was a fair amount of snow below tree-line. A single set of out-and-back tracks, presumably from the day before, were the only sign of other hikers I saw on this trail.

After following the trail to the saddle between Meeker and Lookout Mountain, there is an almost-clearing that marks the point where the beaten path is left behind.

A view of Lookout Mountain from the saddle

As you bushwhack up the hill, there are several outcroppings of rock which afford nice views over the treetops.

Horsetooth Peak

By the time I gained Meeker Ridge proper, the snow had cleared out, either scoured by the wind or melted by the sun, now unimpeded by the forest shade. Along the ridge there are great piles of rock which I dubbed the Ancient Ruins, owing to their similarity to many of the toppled castles in Europe.

Ancient Ruins on Meeker Ridge

The wind was a sustained 20 miles per hour, with stronger gusts regularly buffeting me as I worked my way upward. And the sun was hidden behind an overcast covering of clouds for the entire morning. I made enough headway to squeeze through the window of time I had set before turning back. Just after noon, I was approaching the fantastic knife edge that leads from the so-called ridge summit to Mt. Meeker's true summit. The wind was unnerving as I made the last very exposed moves onto that edge, but I couldn't let my efforts be foiled by a little bit of fear. Of course, it turned out to be pretty fun.

Mt. Meeker, from the beginning of the knife edge, with Longs Peak in the background.

Quite by chance I stumbled upon the summit register stuck down in a hole beneath some rocks. The paper had fallen out of its tube and was wet with snow, so my writing was blurred and clumsy.

Meeker summit register

When I stood back up, I saw the only people I would encounter all day - two guys who were approaching the summit from the Loft route. I talked to one of them for a little while as his partner worked his way up the summit boulders, but I didn't want to linger, as it felt as though daylight would fail all too soon.

As I returned to the ridge, I discovered a small Bodhisattva statue nestled in an alcove of rocks.

A Bodhisattva statue on Meeker's summit

The sun was out for much of my descent, casting a golden glow on the tundra grasses on the mountainside. The wind was still constant, but it felt a little warmer. By the time I got back to the trail head at 15:50, I was thoroughly spent. But the true aches from the day's jaunt wouldn't be felt until this morning. This is what a Monday is supposed to feel like.

Optimism Vs. Engagement

Just when I think I know something about Life, a deeper truth comes along and sets me to reeling.

In my last post, I presented all of the wonderful signs of the season as evidence that there are many more great things to look forward to as Time moves along in its great cycle. The very next day, as we got on our bike to ride to school, my daughter, F, enthused:

"I can't wait until today!"

I think this is the Zen Stick that Jane writes about from time to time.

I turned to F, as best as I could from my bike saddle, and started to correct her. "But it's already today...." But she was right. Optimism for the future is a good thing, but how much better is it to be 100% engaged in the here-and-now?

That girl never ceases to amaze me. She has this inner light that refuses to be ignored, that touches everyone she comes into contact with. I try to have a positive impact on the world around me, but I still have a lot to learn. I'm reminded of these lyrics:

I had a match, but she had a lighter.
I had a flame, but she had a fire.
I was bright, but she was much brighter.
I was high, but she was the sky.
 -- Cake: Mexico

I am privileged to be surrounded by lots of people that are so incredibly smart, talented, bold, enthusiastic, caring... But there was a time when I would never have guessed that a six-year-old would be the most inspiring person I've ever met.

Firsts of the Fall

The first Saturday morning bike ride in sub-40° temperatures and overcast skies. Convincing yourself that as long as you make it out the door, it counts as a workout. Bundled up in at least two layers from head to toe, telling yourself that it's not really that cold. You just have to acclimate to the cooler weather. Getting home 30 miles later with thoroughly frozen hands that thaw to burning pinpricks. A well-deserved cup of tea and a hot shower.

The first pile of leaves raked up from the ash tree that has gone from green to golden seemingly overnight. The kids jumping in, heaping the leaves around themselves; tossing handfulls up in the air and laughing as the leaves shower back down, sticking to sweaters and hair. Thinking maybe you should be trying to capture it all on video, but unwilling to tear yourself away from just being in this moment.

The first hike with snowflakes drifting down at the trail head. A few miles of distance and one or two thousand feet of elevation later, the snow is knee-deep in places. Facing into the wind, you half-wish for goggles and a balaclava. But the slight stinging of the driving snow is just the mountains' way of teasing you, telling you that you're always welcome to come visit as long as you're willing to accept their house rules.

Times of change are a reminder of the richness of experience that awaits us. After a summer full of sunshine, shade trees, and summits, it wouldn't do to forget or take for granted that we're surrounded by wonders that are subject to the slow rhythms of time. The turning of seasons reminds us not to mourn the days that have passed, but to celebrate days yet to come.

Review (and gift): Knocking 'Round the Rockies

I recently finished reading a great little book: Knocking 'Round the Rockies by Ernest Ingersoll. It is the account of the author's work in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado and Wyoming with the United States Geological and Geographical Survey of the Territories in 1874 and 1875.

In recounting his experiences and adventures, Ingersoll waxes poetic, scientific, historic, comic with an engaging rapidity. There are anecdotes of Indian battles and trouble with mules; histories of Denver and other towns he visited; details of the operation and economics of the 19th-century mining industry; and many interesting social and linguistic observations may be made in the reading.

Here are a few of my favorite passages:

There is no possible desolation greater than these lofty peaks show - fastnesses where winter is supreme and chaos retains a foothold upon the earth - fragments of a primeval and Arctic world dotting the fair expanse of tempered nature below.

 "That reminds me," laughed Mr. Wilson, "of a funny thing that happened once in Nevada. Coming back from a mountain one day, we surprised a bear and shot at him, but missed him, and he ran off very lively. We followed along and chased him right through camp. There were only a Mexican and the cook there, and they, seeing the bear run by, started after - the Mexican on the horse with an old army pistol, and the cook with nothing but his rolling-pin. The bear got away, but what that fellow proposed to do with the rolling-pin was more than he or I could tell."

 I can no more express with leaden types the ineffable, intangible ghost and grace of such an experience than I can weigh out to you the ozone that empurples the dust raised by the play of the antelopes in yonder amethyst valley. Moses need have chosen no particular mountain whereupon to receive his inspiration. The divine Heaven approaches very near all of these peaks.

Not only do I recommend this book, but I have the rare chance to give it to all of you. Kind of. It's available for free via Google Books! So curl up by the campfire with a pipe and your laptop or tablet and enjoy this glimpse of the Rocky Mountains as they were some 138 years ago.

Busy body, muddled mind

How can life be so busy without producing anything in particular to write about? I think maybe I just suck at introspection and making connections between the physical and mental aspects of life. I have not been idle, but I guess I'm feeling uninspired. So I'm just going to dump a bunch of stuff here. Thanks for letting me vent. Just smile and pretend like you're listening.

At the beginning of the month, I went out to Indian Peaks with a guy named K, whom I met on South Arapaho peak back in August. We were most of the way along the ridge of Mt. Neva when some scary looking clouds started blowing our way, so we bailed. As the clouds rolled in, they were so low that the Arapaho peaks were completely obscured. But we were only a little way along the trail back to the truck when everything cleared up and the sky was a perfect, uninterrupted expanse of blue. I think we were both kind of kicking ourselves for not going for the summit, but given the evidence we had to work with, I think we made the right decision when we turned back.

The next weekend I was supposed to go climbing in Golden, but things fell through with my partner. So instead I went to Boulder and got in a good bike ride. Up Lefthand Canyon to Peak-to-Peak highway, and back down the St. Vrain canyon into Lyons. When I got to the top of Lefthand, I ended up getting mixed up in the Buffalo Bicycle Classic, which followed my route all the way back to where I was parked.

After I got home and we all had lunch, the family and I went down to Sloan's Lake for Adventures Denver - an expo put on by a number of outdoor companies to promote recreational activities to urban dwellers. That was a lot of fun. We didn't have a whole lot of time before things closed down, but F and I ran around and did as many of the activities as we could, including paddling around the lake a little bit in a canoe.

So all said, I wasn't too heart-broken about the climbing plans not coming to fruition. At least I was able to salvage the day.

My father was in town the following weekend. I wanted to take him up to Indian Peaks, but we didn't have time for that. We did try to get out to the Rocky Mountain Arsenal Nat'l Wildlife Refuge, but it ended up being closed due to road work. I managed to make him have a few vegetarian meals, including a dinner at Leaf in Boulder. And though he put up some joking resistance, I think he enjoyed it plenty well.

Another climbing trip cancelled last week due to an illness ravaging the household of my partner (not the same one who flaked on me before). Bummer.

Meanwhile, I started taking classes for the Colorado Mountain Club's Wilderness Trekking School. While many of the topics it covers are not new to me, it's a prerequisite for taking their Basic Mountaineering School, which I'm hoping to do next spring. And I'll still be learning a lot in WTS, and I'm meeting new people, making connections, and trying to figure out how to be sociable. The school's field days will be occupying many of my weekends for a little while.

We had our first WTS field day yesterday, which took us to Watrous Gulch, just the other side of I-70 from Torrey's Peak. The aspen trees are in the midst of their autumnal turning from silver green to the most vivid shades of yellow and orange. At times, while walking through the fallen foliage on the trail, I imagined that the round leaves were coins of gold from some lost and scattered treasure.

One of the biggest challenges right now is trying to stick to some kind of fitness routine. I'm mostly avoiding running right now, still trying to let the PF in my right foot work itself out. The weather is great for cycling, but the sun rises so late these days that there's no time for a ride in the morning before I have to get F up and ready for school. And with C's evening classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, and my WTS classes on Tuesdays, afternoon workouts aren't much of an option. When school isn't preventing it, F and I have been going to the climbing gym after I get home from work. That's something, at least.

So I finally resolved myself to the fact that, though it's still prime cycling weather, I have to start doing my workouts indoors on the trainer, early in the morning. Riding outdoors will be relegated to weekends. And even though I suck at bouldering, right now that may be my best bet for getting out and climbing on actual rock on a regular basis. It's something I can go out and do without worrying about finding a partner, and I'm sure I ought to be able to squeeze that into my schedule somewhere.

Chimney Rock in southern Colorado has been in the news recently, as it was newly made a National Monument. Reading about it sent me back two years to my Grand Canyon bicycle tour. It's got the wanderlust stirring in the back of my mind. Don't know when I'll be able to hit the road again like that, but I think I need to get out of town for a while.