Almost immediately following the Lake Placid race, I headed down to New York City for my first taste of the Big Apple. As we approached NYC, Jesse piloted our rental car through the tunnel, almost into another driver, and directly into an underground bus garage. Ah, my first taste of the city! Fortunately things improved considerably from there, as we watched tourists mill around like ants in Times Square, had some drinks on a nice rooftop bar, sped around Greenwich Village in an assortment of taxis, and danced late into the night at one of the many clubs in that area. I glanced at my phone around 3 in the morning and realized that it might be a good idea to turn in if we were going to survive the next day. Honestly, the city was such energy that I was tempted to steal off for a nap under the canopy of trees in Central Park, but I allowed the intensity and vitality of the place to carry me up and down the streets, amidst the thousands of people, buildings towering overhead. We probably all seemed a bit outlandish to the real New Yorkers with our old clothes and tourist stares, but I was simply happy to be a part of the hustle bustle madness. For a moment you can believe you are one in the city, finding yourself with a new ritual; to live, and adventure in the great pulse of New York City...

Awoke the next morning early under reddening skies to fly back to my beloved Durango, which, upon arriving I had approximately two days to unpack and repack for the next existence. A mountain bike tour of the San Juan mountains with my coach was in store, so I dashed all about to see friends at barbecues, get myself sorted, and then head out... all the while my house serving as a kind of hostel. So on then, to the mountains with a light and honest heart, joyously ignoring the warning signs of bad weather. The first days were challenging while the rain fell hard and made the riding muddy and at times quite cold, but I was still happy to up high with my bike and good friend. We covered the miles contentedly, climbing high over many passes, and descending some of the best single track I have ridden. To be back in the heart of these great mountains, who sit day in and day out motionless, brought me an immense quiet and gratitude.

Returning to town I quickly thrust myself into the training for Kona, but also finding time for many nights with friends. I had the fantastic experience of helping with a the Durango Kids Triathlon, watching with complete admiration as the youngest gave their all in the sport I love. With luck and some grant funding, I will be helping develop a program here for getting kids into the sport, as the talent and passion in the youth are evident.

Also of note was a brief return to one of my passions, as I boarded a glider with my friend Kimberly and took to the skies above Durango. I had always wanted to see the landscape from cloud level, and it was truly marvelous. We soared about for over an hour, riding thermals, dipping wings, silently passing time in awe before returning to the solid footing of the valley floor.

More hard training ahead, with Branson 70.3 being the only race I will do between now and Kona. I look forward with absolute enthusiasm, my mind calm with the knowledge of my successes and support. For now, I continue the pursuit, working, adjusting, revising...