Desert voice Every few miles of riding in the Sonoran desert, a bee would whack my cycling helmet. THWACK. A few bounced off my face as well. That didn’t make as much sound, but of course, it…
Source: Hoarse and buggy. In stages.
Desert voice Every few miles of riding in the Sonoran desert, a bee would whack my cycling helmet. THWACK. A few bounced off my face as well. That didn’t make as much sound, but of course, it…
Source: Hoarse and buggy. In stages.
Working through the Dark Night of the Soul to emerge as me.
just a guy trying to make his way in the wide, wide world
Climbing, Outdoors, Life!
Coffee fueled original content from an aging middle-of-the-packer
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I hope that someone sees this page and decides not to give up...
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professional at triathlon, amateur at everything else
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Because Cycling is Life
A place where prophets, apostles and poets meet in the lessons for each Sunday of the church year
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do one thing every day that scares you