3CogBlog

 Obviously Strava is the worst thing to happen to mountain biking. This one app has convinced an entire generation of riders that speed is the only metric they should use to judge success. Strava does not measure style, creativity, jumps, wheelies or anything cool. The app teaches riders that, if you are faced with one line that is fun or challenging, and another line that is just faster, always choose the fast line. It does have one redeeming feature though, you can use it as a human Etch a Sketch. I messed around with Strava for a year and it took me a while to get into doodling. I would have a 40 minute ride at lunch time each day. This gave me about 5 minutes to find a location with a a 5 minute ride back, and 30 minutes to create something. That's the same time limit Bob Ross would use! I'll try to break down some tips I learned so you can try to do something creative with the otherwise stupid Strava app. First off... Location,  a nice big parking lot is a great place to s

       I'm a mechanic, so by my nature I like to know how things work. I get a feeling of joy when I see how the magic happens. When you first get the itch to try repairs yourself there are many magical obstacles before you. For example, look at changing gears on a bike. You are pedaling a bike, you move the lever on the bar *POOF* magic happens! and now the bike is pedaling easier up the hill.       But then you spend a few minutes with your bike up on a stand. You spin the crank and it's hard to turn, so you you click the lever. Then the funky arm moves, the chain jumps to a bigger gear in back and it becomes easier to pedal. Your brain absorbs the idea of what is happening and suddenly the magic is gone. You see the little wire that pulled the funky arm and there's really no magic at all.      Most people are happy as long as the magic happens when they want it. Everyone faces their own challenges everyday and everyone is a magician for their own specific magic. I send m

     Last year I burned all my paid time-off by working at a bike shop. Yep, when my real job had no work for me I would leave and go help out a business that was slammed. But, instead of just letting me get a short check that week, my corporate overlords would suck away my vacation time to make full 40 hour weeks. So there was no vacation in 2020...or was it all a vacation?, it almost didn’t seem like a real year.        But 2021 is different, and my wife is a wonderful planner. I love that she plans, because I rarely do. Live life in the moment I say. That’s why I once tried to pull off the side of the road in White Ranch and camp with a girl camper. Then in the middle of the night a police loudspeaker was blasting across the hillside.       “Attention illegal campers! Return to your vehicle immediately or face severe consequences!” When we hiked back to the car he asked, “Did you have a campfire?” I said, “No.” He said, “I don’t believe you, take me up to where you camped and show m

 I've officially kicked off the '21 season. I dragged Brian to the top of The Grind, we flew down the traverse, then I led us on a clean run down Brown Town. I finally stepped up to the 'Double Tap' feature. This is a steep slab roll straight into a step-down log gap. It's a feature that I don't do when I'm by myself. But with him on my six, I sent it without hesitation. We pulled off at the bottom of Brown Town for fist bumps. I contemplated hitting the big kicker, but that would be the first big air of the year. I really feel like I should renew my pilots license at Valmont or Erie before I go big at Left Hand. So we rode around the kicker and I told him to lead down Indiana Jones. He'd been eating my dust so it was only fair to switch up. Plus he'd made a few runs down it previously, and this was my first since the snow cleared.  We dropped in and lined up for two minutes of mayhem, when suddenly I saw him wobbling right ahead of me, I think he wa

 The day I broke my Camp Four Coffee mug was a sad day, but it did lead to an hour of reminiscing about Crested Butte, so it wasn't a total loss. The day started like any other. I had my thirty minute drive. I took off my Vans and put on my work boots. I scrolled through my Pandora channels, settling on King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard channel. Then I pulled the trusty mug out of my tool box and gave it a wipe. With my bandanna secured over my face I headed towards the little alcove where the Bunn commercial coffee maker sits simmering away with a full pot of Folgers. It's not good, but it is coffee.   I took a shortcut outside and there they were. The Colorado Rocky Mountains. The mountains are always in view, sternly glaring at me, judging me for neglecting my duties. The mountains know that my purpose on earth is not to propel the commerce of American society, the mountains don't care about that. The mountains are gods who demand to be worshiped. I have to visit them o

   Everyone has done it before on some scale. Popping off the side walk onto the street is a drop to flat. But let's quantify this and say that a drop is a mandatory air. It's past the size where you could safely roll over it. Start at three or four feet and just go up from there. Behind my elementary school was a retaining wall of white limestone. It was probably about four feet high. We rode off of that on bmx bikes and landed flat on grass. Not because it was fun or it felt good, but just so we could say we did it.    That last sentence sums up all drops to flat. I know I still do them way more often than I should, on a bike or skis. Drops to flat are like choosing to watch an 80's action movie, you know what you are getting into. It's a cheap thrill and you may regret it. You're not going to find fulfillment when you land flat. If the drop is big enough it can even be damaging to you and your equipment.   Yet, they still exist. When I was starting out jumpi