I’ve been an eency-bit depressed, friends. And by eency-bit, I actually mean eency-bit. Just enough to notice it and frown at myself in the mirror while trying not to laugh at how ridiculously hippy-ish I’m becoming, brushing homemade granola out of my teeth and clumsily putting my long god-like locks into a hairband.

Why an eency-bit depressed? It’s the end of June, and it’s been weighing on my mind that I missed my entire favorite season of the year due to health problems, injuries, and surgeries.

Those magic couple of months from mid-April to mid-June are my two favorite months of the year. I call it my Hikely Season. They are the two months of the year where…

I get to hike without worry.

And I get to ride my Harley without worry.

You see, ever since I got that heatstroke on that dang mountain top, I have to be very careful with my body heat. That means the time between mid-June and mid-September are dangerous for me here in Utah, and I have to take easier hikes, shorter rides, and often just skip out on either or both for safety’s sake.

Hikely Season. It’s also my season to completely dump that icky winter depression I always get. I feel it drip out of me while I’m hiking and disappear into the wind behind me while I’m riding.

But not this year. Nope. I was in bed for a good chunk of it, trying to stop bleeding instead. A couple weeks ago, I landed… get this… a cold. And strep throat. And pink eye. All at the same freakin’ time. Go, me! Yep.

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I had to take a selfie. Try not to cry. Feel free to laugh. I’m sorry you have to see this.


Last week I took a spill off the Alpine Slide up in Park City and injured my arm and hand to where I couldn’t do much of anything.


Of course, I had that stupid butt surgery you all know too well about.


And, dang it all… Yesterday I even stubbed my toe. Hard. Sorry, no picture.

Today, as I sat on my bed, with an hour of sunlight left before my bedroom went dark for another night, I sat lamenting the loss of my Hikely Season. It’s been scorching hot the past couple weeks here in Utah. My butt still isn’t healed. I’m still feeling lethargic from being sick. I haven’t been able to really exercise for months. And I thought about Delilah, my 800 LB steel horse, gathering dust down in the parking garage. And without thinking about another damn thing, I said aloud, “f*** it. I’m going riding.”

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