Updates Hoooo!

Hello Peoples. Sorry it has been almost a month since my last post! Today could be considered ceremonious if we're feeling like it. After this short entry is complete, I am taking my internet modem back to Time Warner. No more internet for Alan; at least at my apartment. I'm counting down the remaining month in this sweet pad of an apartment. As my pictures will show (check out my picasa site! http://picasaweb.google.com/aldsmith3/SpringSummer10#) the porch I have had to hang-out on is second-to-none.

Things continue to go well besides the light dusting of snow we are receiving today. Excluding yesterday and today, it has been in the low 60s with plenty of warm sunshine. Hartman's Rocks, the place for mountain biking, camping, hiking, running, will be opening very soon and everyone in town is anticipative. I'm still looking for spring/summer work. Have a couple leads. We'll see where they go. I hope to move home in mid-July to spend a week or 2 with family and friends before I move to Boone, NC. Hope ya'll are well and I'll try to continue updating from the work computer.

In the meantime, enjoy a short portion from my recent piece. I've cut and paste 3 different sections so it's not a complete piece but it's a sampling. It is about substances and society. Enjoy:

Life has a way of extracting the happiness out of you. Liken it to a bee extracting nectar from a flower, but the twist is the reality and necessity of it. Many people choose to medicate with “happy” drugs –living in a false reality created by chemical messengers communicating to their bodies how they should think and feel. Happy drugs, that express constant emotion without much flux; effectively making the user a smiling zombie of sorts. You ought to laugh because you know that those drugs desensitize the taker to what really eclipses them: sadness; often cohabiting inside other emotions. Though, you hold your stones back because you admit you are a swimmer in the ocean of users.

*****

We Americans as a commonwealth rely on uppers, downers, lefties and the occasional right; day in and day out. Cold medicine, marijuana, Percocet, Ritalin, Alcohol, Ambien and coffee all exemplify the larger body of substances ingested hourly, daily and weekly. Look straight ahead; now behind and over each shoulder. Who do you see? Now find a reflecting surface. Did you detect the similar nature of life’s fellow occupants with your own? As hard as it is to admit our interdependence with these substances, the truth is cold and real. To sit there passively and say that what you read isn’t true is to deny on the most basic level: yourself. Honest thoughts try to admit that you have never ingested any substance orally, intravenously, or otherwise but your ears tune-in to the unspoken falsity and wire to your brain a collective realization. Turning the pointed finger back on yourself is humiliating, but good news is, others will love you if you love yourself for who you are – regardless of your chosen poison.

*****

While I do not suggest you go out and start using-up on what others are getting down-with, I do recommend however, that you take a look around and acknowledge. Both seen and unseen “users” are all around you. Are they lurking in shadow waiting to abduct your kid and sell him into sexual slavery in Hong Kong? No. They are the people you talk with at the bank, grocery store and public service/government offices. Now, before you go pulling Salem-esque Witch Hunt-stunts, breathe for a second. People are people and thus we do things just because we do; no intense or detailed explanation is needed. Basic human desires for plants, powders or liquids to alter their perception because of pain, grogginess, social reasons or other obscurities is inherent. We should strive to deal better with such things when we witness them in others. Turn the mirrors of your eyes back on yourself; then you’ll see it isn’t me…it’s you; it’s all of us.

One Love,

Alan

Updates Abound...

Ya'll. What's kickin? Just got back from Saint George and Zion, UT. Let me tell you, Zion is a sick place that everybody who ever liked or likes nature, should go. Be sure to check out my photos online! (http://picasaweb.google.com/aldsmith3/SaintGeorgeZion#)

Otherwise, for those not in the know (my bad), I have taken an assistantship with Appalachian State University as a residence director (RD). I will be working towards my graduate degree in College Student Development (possibly with a concentration in Outdoor Program Administration). I am excited and nervous for my transition as well as move back across the country. I see life as dynamic and I find myself excited for the challenges and new perspectives ahead. All in all it will be good and I know I'll look back on my time here in Gunny and in Boone, NC as allllll good :[]

Hope ya'll are well. I apologize if my prose reaches many of you before my voice over the phone. Know I care and wonder about you all in some way or another. Get a hold of me if you think of it. Catch ya soon...

<3
Al

Welp...

Tis official ya'll. I'm headed to Boone, North Carolina starting July 26ish for a 2-year stint at Appalachian State University. I will be studying College Student Development with a possible emphasis in Outdoor Program Administration. I am excited to finally be pursuing my graduate degree. I will be sad to leave Gunnison. So much has happened here to me and my life. I have learned much and will never forget the people, places, etc. Look for a more detailed and in-depth synopsis on my life here in Gunnison before I leave this July.

Thanks for the continued support. Love ya'll.

Alan

Oh where oh where has Ben Johnson gone?

I feel now in ways like I haven’t in recent memory. I grasp to wrap my mind around the occurrences as of late. For a symbiotic relationship to end so suddenly, though warnings had been trickling down the fault line, is deep. Who would have imagined that the crack in the dirt would have opened so prematurely. Is this really the cessation of a mutual cooperative? Questions such as this still continue to perplex the sensitive-minded.

***

Imagine something that you love; a family member, a friend or a pet. Now imagine how you would feel when that thing you love takes a marked deviation from you; distancing itself with its unripe bite and not its cautious bark. Saturate that thought. Let it permeate the synapses…..linger…..culminate in mental fermentation. After you imagine that, you can begin grasping the occurrences as of late. Why do these things elicit deep ripples in the pond? A pond that supposedly cares about the organisms occupying it and its commitment to moving forward together. Were not the benefits habitual?

Enough questions, time for the facts. Straight up, this piece may challenge you. You may be disturbed to know that such a great person – in mine and other’s opinions is no longer here at Western. However, after the mental angst has settled, you will find a nugget of happiness buried deep within for a truly great man. A great man who has been minorly misunderstood, unappreciated by a few, and sadly shunned from a place he loves truly; but, a man that has a bright future ahead of him with new and wonderful opportunities.

***

I had decided to write this piece about a great friend of mine, Benjamin Johnson, but found it quite difficult to put my finger on a proper start, middle or end. I had initially wanted to express emotions, anger being prevalent amongst those, but found it difficult to watch what I may write. Instead, after debating internally, turning the idea up instead of down; right instead of left; I decided that an approach to the positive loveables about Ben-“jamin” would be a smile-on-your-face kind of way. Therefore the prose that flows shall be such – some peering into my psyche, some telling how it was.

You walk around Western’s campus with Ben and every few hundred feet there seems to be another jolly soul who knows him in one fashion or another. By chance, you meet a young student on campus and consequently find out that they were turned-on to Western because of something Ben Johnson said to them before their academic career here began. Now, to differentiate tall tales from truth, Ben is not responsible for every student on this campus. Not even close. But, what he is responsible for is a number of diverse students who like he, came to Western looking for something to love; something to be passionate about – even though they didn’t know what that was yet. If I had to assume, I’d attribute his popularity to his loveable characteristics. The way he will spend a few minutes with you chatting casually about your day or something that’s on your mind and how the elements of a caring listener become apparent in the engagement; before or after his signature greeting: the non-formal handshake.

Funnily enough, within my first few public outings with Ben, I found that we had great difficulty getting places on time. But, it wasn’t necessarily because Ben is untimely. When it counts, Ben is the guy you want in your corner – going extra rounds when needed. I’d attribute the lapse of time rather, to others stopping and saying hello to Ben and he conversely engaging to see how they are and how their day is going. It felt like just a month or so ago at City Market when I asked my other good friend Luke, ‘how does Ben know all the people that talk to him throughout the store?’ To which Luke’s response “Ben recruited them to come to Western.” I laughed a delightful laugh in disbelief if I do recall, and found myself amazed. To continually see students and people he knew after only a few times hanging around Ben blew away my perception of friendliness. I honestly will say I desired to have a friend who knew a lot of people; especially when reasons were as such. To find a person intertwined, even if for 30 seconds in your life mystifies my comprehension of the warm circumstances he brought to each conversation. Especially when the subconscious warmth is revealed in pouring back over the occurrences. Will we notice the lack of warmth in conversations with others; or will we find the ability to imitate what he exhibited. Who knows? Time will tell…

***

I look outside and think of how the snow coats things in beauty. I catch a fleeting cerebral glimpse of another season not so white and become aware of its allure in one form or another. How grace and good comes to cumulation when tranquility is in homeostasis. I look at my friend through memory’s eye and perceive how the seasons remind me of him. The way he finds internal beauty in others. His judgment not exceeding his physical distance from you. The way his smile imitates the sunshine and his facial expression the calm blue sky.

I acknowledge that it takes a marked ability to be non-judgmental the first few times you meet a person and start to get to know them. Meeting people is not easy, but yet it is – especially when you have a positive disposition like Ben. The affinity of being around him is similar to the moment a flower reaches full bloom; or when the moon comes from behind the clouds to bask you in its loving light. I cannot help but think of moments when everything seems right and liken it to being around him. I can say far beyond a reasonable doubt that I know a man worthy of the praises others admit of him. He embodies in many ways, what we should strive to be. While humans inherently make errors, the manner in which we control how they dictate our immediate future is what differentiates us. Ben’s way of living, his unrevealed goals, and the way in which he rides the ocean of life is to be happy. Despite the calamity or calm at hand. Much like the crux of a climb, Ben’s last essence is his invitation to others to be happy along with him in whatever he does.

Join us…..join your friends; your family…..join him. Seek to find the beauty in others and in the tainted magnetism of all that is around you. Weed out the seeds you loathe. Find the seeds to plant and choose ground that will prosper them. With love, nurturing, care and understanding your seed will bloom to be as Ben’s has. We will always miss the memories of Ben’s presence at Western, but celebrate his absence in the joy of his new life. Long live Benjamin Johnson. Long live what he lives.

Following up...

To clarify any wrongs that may have been assumed, I want to share a few positive notes with ya'll.

First off, I apologize if the last post sounded harsh. It came from within and sometimes the fire is intense on the inside; deep down. I do take passion in what I do, or at least I try. Having felt the waters, so to speak, I sensed dissension amongst the followers. I just wanted to address that up front. I say things all in love and if you don't know me yet, sometimes I say things without thinking thoroughly, but I mean well. Though, I did read over that last post numerous times before I published it, I was not going to change or deviate to satisfy disgruntlement.

Moving on...

For those that didn't know yet, I did not get into graduate school. Out of the 3 I've applied to, I was rejected by 2-Penn State and Colorado State (my first choice). Appalachian State remains in the cards, but I'm less and less impressed with school right now at this point. I'm trying to seek out jobs since my position at the college ends May 7th. I'd like to stay here in the valley but if indeed I have to move, I will. My sister Amy has been providing guidance and ideas for places to apply. I am grateful for her help. This post is starting to sound like posts of old...No worries though.

Other than the aforementioned, things go well. As I've said in times past, patience is the only real thing I can be assured in right now. My friends, family, and girlfriend remain as real and desired as ever. I appreciate any of you that have been thinking of me. The future holds unknowns. I look forward to them. Thanks again.

In Love,

Alan

An Interesting Style to Grasp

A quick back story before you read: I have had various remarks from various individuals about the validity of my writing. Is it really Alan? Is he really writing as he is? If so, where has it all come from? Well, I do say, please read on and find out. However, leave your sensitivities and opinions here at this point and pick them up afterwards, lest you be offended. You've been kindly warned. "Oh my, is he really going to say something hurtful to me?" No, I'm just going to be open and speak honestly. No person, specific event, or otherwise is mentioned. This is me speaking about my writing and my style so perhaps you all can better understand my thought processes. Good luck and feel free to respond if something does bother you. I don't read minds. Thank you and without further adieu, the piece:


Without readers my blog would be just like a personal diary; and in many ways it is. However, the blog was started as a way for me to confer to those not around me on a daily basis my life out in Colorado. Granted many writings as of recent have been about random events, both past and present, real and imagined; but for me it's a natural progression. For me to continue to write in cut and dry ways, stating I did x, y, and z no longer appeals to me as a "writer."

I've enjoyed writing creatively as much as I've enjoyed drawing creatively; about the last 5 years or so. For those of you that have seen my tattoo work, part of it is an original drawing by me. I have found other mediums for expressing creatively now that I am not around musical instruments as much. Because I don't talk about drawing or about creative writing as an interest or hobby it may be hard for some to see where I'm coming from. I used to write in plain sentences about what I was doing out in Colorado, much like a report would read. While that is very enjoyable for many of you I'm sure, the times have changed. I cannot say I am changing nor maturing, but I like to think I am; perhaps in ways barely measurable. Perhaps in ways not all and even retrograding. It's all something I have to figure out for myself though. I have a desire to express my thoughts and feelings creatively and openly. I feel I have a lot from the past to talk about and in many ways writing perspectively for me is a way to enjoy writing. If you don't enjoy something, why do it? Well, some would argue how they don't enjoy cutting the grass or grooming themselves, and I would say yes, that is true...there is always a counter-point to every statement. For me, writing in a creative, almost out-of-body&mind manner, is a way for me to express myself as well as brand my writing as different than the next guy. If we all expressed in the same manner or wore the same clothes, what a boring place we'd live in. Living in America has it's definite privileges. I am happy to exploit those. Hence why I just said that.

Variety is the spice of life, and expressing one's self in a passionate yet honest aspect is the style I'm conveying; interesting and confusing nonetheless. If I have offended people; mislead them with confusing metaphors; talked above or below them, then I apologize. One thing we all should strive to understand is that this blog is mine; and not that I'm selfishly imploring your views, but they are voluntary. No one is forcing viewership. I appreciate the readers I have. If you were to not read my blog anymore I'd be saddened, but chances are I wouldn't even know. I'm not out to impress anyone and I hope to not be unimpressive to those sensitive to issues I discuss; but I can't screen every thought without disassembling the piece of writing and giving it a bipolar purpose. This is really a continual development of Alan as he matures and figures out life, and you all have the privilege, or horror of reading about it; even if it's not specifically about me.

If it seems I am not genuine in my thoughts, or that they seem not me, I don't know what to tell you. I assure you my writing is me through and through and that no one or no substance is inundating the material you read. I am still at a crossroads in life and perhaps one crossroad leads to another. For this I apologize. I can't foresee what I will write about. I sit down, I write, I move on with life. Sometimes my ramblings make sense; sometimes my sense is ramblings; that's how it is. Often times, the cereal in the cereal box doesn't look like what it did on the outside picture. Same goes for me. I don't know how to be any more clear. Again, I apologize if you originally signed on to read about what I was doing in Colorado. I can say you will catch elements of my life here and there, but for me to continually stretch on and on about my doings goes against my character; whether that's a new or old character I couldn't tell you. I'm telling it how it is...here and now.

Thanks for reading and if you go your own direction, I'm sorry to see you go; but it's inherent that dissatisfaction occurs everyday. Life is dynamic...hope you'll deal.

In love, genuineness, care, and respect,

Alan

The Day CSU Said No

"If there were no rewards to reap,
No loving embrace to see me through
This tedious path I've chosen here,
I certainly would've walked away by now.
Gonna wait it out."

2009: A year gone but never lost...

The bottom of my coffee mug signals to my brain what my body already knows: I've just ingested my coffee and perhaps the timeline I had done it in was too fast. Anyways, 2009 a year in review from my point of view.

From the start 2K9, represented my move two-thirds of the way across the country to beautiful, quaint, and unique Gunnison Colorado. I don't know what I was thinking when I moved here. I had little expectations. I just knew it was the land known as Colorado and whatever happened would be for the better. Better because I would be forging my young life on my own; away from family and friends-not that I needed to get away, but there comes a time when a young man must, in this case, head West. All allowing me to find out more about myself and what makes Al's clock tick...right down to the second hand.

Recollecting my thoughts, the first few months had a very stable feel to it. I knew that every month past January would be another month cementing my presence here. Similar to my landscape though, once I could go seemingly no higher, the trudge down the other side presented new challenges and issues. I had yet to make solid friends that were near my age. A person can only spend so much time in their own world watching movies and reading books before they crave human contact. Not just any contact though, something that is on-par with what they left behind. I cannot say that the search started that very March or April, but I was definitely more aware of my lack of friends, outside the students I worked with of course and my supervisor. The beginning of summer/late spring found me in the Cascade mountain range in Oregon and Washington, climbing some peaks with my brother in-law and his good friends. Beyond offering a rarer glance into life in some other mountains, not Colorado, I found myself easily and gratefully distracted. Returning to Gunnison a week or so later, I had little time to mentally prepare for my first trail running race. I have to give props to my supervisor and friend Scott for backing me and keeping me driven. Much like other things in life, a solid figure in the shadows somewhere, whether it's in your mind or physically present, provides sustenance for forging onward. The non-literal view from higher up makes the big and obtrusive seem so insignificant; especially when in one's hindsight.

Summer 2K9 presented more free time than I expected. I had made one solid friend that I could engage with outside of work, though it was a female and most would assume a relationship. I, however, saw it as a connection to someone in-tune with what I liked to do and experience. Granted there was attraction, being the nature of humans, but allowing yourself to be swallowed by reasons of lust alone is no way to live. I was fortunate to have her company, her willingness to listen to what ailed me, and in turn be a leaning post for her. I do say, friends are categorized by such parameters.

As summer snaked away like a river in spring, swelled initially by winter snow melt, I found myself loving where I was but lacking the surely essential male-to-male bonding. I had left behind a few good friends back home in Pennsylvania and replacing them was a task seemingly absurd. Absurd? Yes; senseless because you can't replace the uniqueness of a friend – male or female. My only hope was to stumble into something more like what I had left, yet in tune with what I felt and tried to replicate in my life in Gunnison. Rewards aren't often deserved, but when you come into something you feel was in the cards, you can't help but smile on the intricacies of life, and how we often get what we really need, and not what we want. I thank my mother for those wits of wisdom; who I assume came from her own mother, and so on, so forth. In admittance, the male friends gained happened to be a few years senior to me, but highly appropriate; for they were at a slightly higher level than I in terms of maturity. Learning dynamically in my young life, I realize that without established pillars, one can easily tread laterally. Having two slightly older males in my life brought about dissection of myself and my life and an approach to reorganization. Being alone in a place makes it a bit easier to be selfish. If you only have yourself to live for, though my family meant a lot still, you often enact and engage in things that do yourself well. It's like a snow globe; even though the walls are translucent, the falling snow inside the globe (perhaps representing your own thoughts coming to be), distracts and grounds you in a limiting way to your own world. Until of course, the globe is dropped, disrupted, or otherwise.

My snow globe had been cracked. Nothing had spilled out yet, but now suddenly, the crack began to spider – eventually leading to the contents expelling out. If spilled milk isn't worth crying over, then spilled snow globes, representing my own selfish world, aren't either. It had been early September and I felt secure and solidly grounded in Gunnison. A simple trip to Taos New Mexico with sisters, bro in-laws, and babies changed that. I look back and thank the forces at work for how things proceeded. Not to grind on about mountains but, the climb up one's own personal mountain is very representative of my life. The uphill climb suddenly reveals a depression with a short often fast down-climb; sometimes descended without grace, followed of course by a steady rise to perhaps another false summit. The literal top is often always out of reach and sight. Good thing though. If we knew where we were headed or what the top looked like, would we still push ourselves? Some would say yes, others would succumb to temptation and perhaps level off. If the opportunity to see how I will die and in what year proposed itself to me, I wouldn't take it.

Living in the day and the week that we are, while knowing that 2010 will be different and better in ways than 2009 was, allows me to keep stepping forward and upward; even if it's at a pace measured only in millimeters. I pray aloud to the good graces that my next summit is false as well. I desire to continue on not truly knowing my literal summit until I am destined to by the powers that be.

What does 2010 hold? What did 2009 give? Comparing the later to the former isn't necessarily befitting. They both are unique. Perhaps we can only remember bits and pieces of yesterdays, much like a pop can in a garbage compactor: the can is readable when in recent thought, but as time goes on and the compactor compacts, the can becomes less and less discernible– akin to remembrance of memories.

What I do know about twenty ten is that a lovely lady whom I never saw coming has graced my life. My family continues to maintain strong ties with me and I them, across the physical distance of this nation. My friends here and afar, provide guidance, discovery, and irreplaceable companionship. My life is headed in the direction it should. The beauty being my ability to take my hands off the wheel, clear my mind of negativities while focusing on being my better self, and letting life steer in the direction it is to go. This story is mine, but sharing it with others brings an internal smile within me that is uncommonly repeated. Find the inner smile in you. I challenge you for the new year. If you were to share a story about your life, I would love to hear it. Sharing is caring; as they say but do it considering you desire to. May the year twenty ten not be the end of growth.

Much Love,

Alan

Where to Enter...

This post poses a problem from the start. I highly desire to update ya'll but how do I do it without drowning on and on about boring this, perhaps exciting that? Flow with me...

The road back to Colorado was long in length and time, but never boring in retrospect. Some may recall me lamenting for a few moments about the drab landscape of Nebraska; well a change of heart occurred. While this didn't happen during the trip, I came across a photo of beautiful forest in northern Nebraska and immediately recant my one-sided and underexposed opinion.

Flash back 8, maybe 10 hours earlier. The lights of E cubed were in my rear-view along with Champaign, IL. I was traveling mostly alone amongst a few dedicated souls, trucking their way to the next pick-up or drop-off. The moon shone bright over my left shoulder as my bearing pointed northerly. I can extract thoughts of feeling not so alone; the moon has that companionship about it. Like most things though, it was not to last. Before the sun's introduction into that part of late evening/early morning, I found the back of my eyelids satiation for my slightly sleep-deprived body. When I awoke, the bright orb star, colored a yellowish orange, was just beginning its tract up and out of the earth, from somewhere else. At this point, a unique situation presented itself: I was now heading due West, while on my six o'clock, the sun was ascending.

Picture for yourself the situation. Many, perhaps all of us have seen a sun-rise and its welcomed beauty, but have we ever found ourselves on the back side of sun-rise? To see the world illuminate as if a bright light were shinning from over your shoulder, brings thoughts of an unparalleled nature. At the time, my current thought train was held up, as if the conductor of the locomotive spied a potential danger in the track ahead. I was struck with a non-violent but surreal thought: the reversed perspective on a seemingly familiar event, item, or otherwise, elicits a new shade of understanding. Looking down at the ant, as he crawls across your kitchen floor carrying some booty of useful nature, you think how small he is; but the ant looks back and thinks how large you are. Is the ant really that tiny or are we just that big? Perspective dictates which answer fits.

Pregnant with that thought, think of a time in your life when perspective played out; where the chance presented itself for you to understand both sides of the coin. Would you go back and change the outcome? Nebraska is less boring glancing back to the moment. I know for sure reconsideration of perspective in my own life would change a lot of previously held notions of x, y, or z. Today will be yesterday and tomorrow will be today; guaranteed. Live not in the past, but reflect upon it's imagery to serve as a guide for where you are going. The reflecting pool of memory is a beautiful and individually-unique place, but keep focus on the larger body of water known as life, for it holds many unknowns - on the surface and deep down in the depths. At times your road will be traveled alone, with others passing, caring not to glance at you or your situation. Find those that cherish you and you them; share openly and honestly all you can.

Respect perspective. What's mine is yours, but what's yours isn't always mine. I definitely gaze rearward and think.........................analyzing things past overwhelms. I'm glad the road revealed to me a new perspective. The application of implications bore into me. I will not succeed every time I try, but I will seek to spectate the various angles, and then decide what, where, or why.

I leave not knowing where to exit. As a story begins, so does an ending. Whether or not it is finalized now or ever, is not important. How it shapes you in the process of being told is what counts indefinitely. Past is permanent. Future is impressionable. Make it as you may.


Alan

True Tall Tales of Benjamin Johnson

(Luke and Ben, respectively)

All-man but I'd swear he had some machine parts in him that are fueled by that black oil-like liquid he soaks up in the mornings. To say that Ben, a great friend and Gunny guy, uses a 20 pound sledgehammer to grind his coffee in the morning is perhaps a little far fetched, but upon further inspection, you realize his graces - while huge in generosity and humbleness - often take on the form of simple life for him. The cardiac muscle residing in his strong chest is probably no larger than his hand when curled in a fist, but you'd swear it was twice that size. Often in human anatomy, generalities are made about certain organs; i.e., the small intestine is approximately 9 feet in length. A similar generality could be made about Ben. Sliced post-mortem, his heart would make enough Love & Care sandwiches to feed a small group of about 4 or 5 people, and perhaps have a tid bit left-over for bedtime snack. Who's hungry?

Along parallel lines, Ben's heart doubles as an engine - fueling a great machine. Knowing not where this voluminous power plant first beamed it's potential, I will start where I am in the know: My first experience with Ben was convoluted in that there were too many people to single out the strong riders; but I, being new to "mountain" biking in the literal sense, found that Ben was easily towards the front of the pack. A natural leader, as was to be discovered in subsequent rides alone with him - most notably at the favorite spot of the locals: Hartman's Rocks. One recent memory materializes. Riding up Bambi's to meet our good friend Luke Mehall (climber extraordinaire/philosopher/great friend), I easily had a 2-3 minute head start on Ben and he still managed to crush my lead within 5 minutes of my start. He seems to need little warm-up and even more limited notice that exercise/activity is about to commence.

Ahh, which brings to thought the experience of this past weekend. While on a short road trip to Ouray (read: Winter May Come, posted 11/16/09), Ben, Luke, and I decided that a run up into Box Canyon would be appropriate while the ladies of our party proceeded to "get their soak on" at the Orvis Hot Springs. After the short jaunt past the hot springs into Ouray and up the other side into the Canyon, we arrived at a reasonable point to park. Said parking completed and changes of clothes later, the 3 of us advanced up the seemingly steeper incline of the would-be climb. Being of an Exercise and Sport Science background, I knew that without a proper warm-up I'd be sluggish and depleted of available ATP in a short matter of time, and voiced my desire to start slow. Ben, being the Ever-Start battery of the group, saw no sense or potential excuses with the hill ahead and chirped along at his usual starting pace - which for some can be surprisingly fast. Luke, being brave and willing to try the unknown, attempted to maintain purchase with Ben, but soon found himself alongside me power hiking the remaining incline. Minutes later and with Ben well out of sight, Luke and I both commented to the effect of Ben being a machine and having this insatiable drive despite the conditions - which on this day were mid to low 30's, shaded and cooler alongside the cliffs we traversed, with a foot and a half of snow.

Where do the tall tales end and the real ones begin? With Benjamin Johnson, one may never know and it only seems tall tale-ish because he continues to peak after the good have plateaued. He is not limited by mortal thoughts of failure - though like any good human, he is only good for so long before he needs his black oil-like liquid, coolant of the clear oft blue-appearing sort, and a scrumptious treat of his own creation. Nonetheless, Ben appeared back to the car at the reasonable place we had parked only 10 or so minutes after he said he would. For him, that is a feat sometimes of atypical completion. With the 3 of us in complete company again, we proceeded down the canyon to the hot springs and into the memories of our minds.

While reading of one instance may not be sufficient for those unfamiliar with Ben, one instance with him in the flesh will positively indicate physically what he represents mentally; especially in my mind. Although, Ben may struggle to read sentences about his own self, I think it only appropriate that he receive an eulogy of his efforts in order to continue his humble approach to living. Keep on keepin' on Ben. You have influenced others undeniably and will continue to do so: mind over matter.

And so concludes the true tall tales of Benjamin Johnson...

...at least for this week. May humble be thy name.


Below is Luke's blog about Ben...(which was to overlap and approach the subject from his perspective)...enjoy:

The Leader, Ben Johnson

When I run with Ben Johnson I know he’s always going to be gone, like Forrest Gump running across that football field in Alabama. He was a state champion high school runner, two-time winner of the local 2.6 mile sprint up W Mountain in Gunnison, and probably has a list of victories I don’t even know about.

When I’m road biking with Ben there’s a couple tricks that ensure I can keep up with him. Well, one trick really with two outcomes. If I let him stay in the lead I can simply stay right behind him and draft, which basically means he does all the work and I can reap the benefits and use gravity to my advantage. This ensures that I stay with him while riding, and also enables me to save energy.

This past weekend, mid-November high in the Rockies, I had the good fortune to bike with Ben one day and run with him the next. Well it wasn’t just us, our good friend Al Smith, a bad-ass in his own right, was along for both adventures as well.

With outdoor adventures I typically both love and hate Ben, with the hate always being a short term emotion because Ben typically pushes me past my perceived limits, and the love always lasting.

I think I was probably hating Ben Saturday afternoon, when we were road biking up Taylor Canyon, with an hour of sunlight left, on icy roads on skinny tires and my fingers were so cold they were going numb. This was a leisurely workout for Ben, a 40 mile afternoon ride in winter-like conditions. Freezing and complaining he even offered up his warm pair of gloves and an extra jacket, which I gladly accepted.

Things really got epic as we rounded Almont, ten miles out from Gunnison, and Al got his second flat of the day. We didn’t have an extra tube between the three of us, so like any good Coloradoan Al stuck his thumb out and hitched a ride back to town. Four miles to go there was barely any day light as I looked over to see a buck running parallel to our bikes. The deer hopped with us as we rode till he made a dramatic dash across the road and then jumped over a fence to safety in a rancher’s field.

As the sun set and we still had four miles to go Ben turned on a light on the back of his bikes so that the passing vehicles would see us, at the same time the darkness fell it began to snow. I suffered through this as my feet froze up and felt like ice blocks. When I finally arrived home I could barely waddle up the flight of stairs to my house. I sat inside with a nice adrenaline rush, and felt incredibly alive (then I spent the next half an hour warming my feet up). If I didn’t have Ben Johnson in my life I probably would have stayed inside and been lazy that cold mid-November afternoon in the Rockies.

The next day we were headed to the Orvis Hot Springs to soak and recover from the ride. Ben suggested to me and Al that we should, “go for a little run before soaking.” We agreed and I pictured running for a little while around the town of Ouray.

Ben took us past the Box Canyon in Ouray up to a dirt road and then drove back for a few miles. He parked his car and I looked up the road. It was a steep hill, covered mostly in snow. Al remarked how steep it was and that it would be a shock to the system to start the run with such a dramatic incline. Ben shrugged it off, making a masculine comment inappropriate for the tone of this blog and just started running up. I tried to hang with him for about five minutes and then soon Al and I quickly lost him as he ran into the hills.

Al and I power-walked some of the sections and a couple miles into it the road became a small cross-country ski trail in a foot and a half of snow. Two hundred foot ice falls to the left on four hundred foot rock walls. Ice climbers dangled off an overhang to the right. We couldn’t see him, but we knew Ben was still running.

We headed back, running and walking for the hour time slot that we agreed upon. After an hour we knew Ben wouldn’t be back exactly on time, but ten minutes after the hour had passed he was there. “Good workout,” he said in his Colorado way of talking, a hybrid of Boulder and Gunnison in words.

Yes it was Ben, it always is with you.

Luke's blog can always be followed at http://lukemehall.blogspot.com/

Winter may come...

Winter may come but with it comes the beauty of experiencing new places, people, and liveliness. As words form on this page, I reflect back over the weekend and think of how blessed I am to live where I do. To clarify, this world has boundless places of breath-taking natural elegance, but to actually have the privilege to live in one of those areas is truly a blessing not given to everyone, sadly. The escape for some people from the daily grind is oft in the form of day-dreams of a tropical beach, a warm radiant sun, and a cold beverage; for others, the hour and half road trip to Ouray, Colorado suffices, and then some.

A place of profound natural awe, described by some as akin to Switzerland, Ouray finds berth among many unique rock formations on three separate sides. Known as an ice-climbing Mecca, would-be adventure enthusiasts or weary travelers alike can find repose after a stimulating afternoon of the outdoors-especially at Orvis Hot Springs; a 10 minute drive from downtown Ouray-not the only hot springs in the area, but assuredly the cleanest, most-comfortable bang for your buck. Orvis pampers guests with a handful of natural hot pools (steam included), a Sauna, and of course more than ample overnight quarters to sway even the finicky. Pore-exfoliation and the sight of the sun's departure make for a combination of the two no one could quite predict-notably when shared with another or friends of a close family-type sort.

Find yourself clothed and struggling for a comfortable position in the backseat of your friend's Subaru and sooner or later, after a flipped-bitch (the act of turning your car around, aka a U-Turn) or two, you end up at Asii for a delectable Thai feast in Montrose, Colorado. Over ice water, vegetable tempura, Thai ice tea, dumplings, and main courses of varying Pad Thai, Tofu, and chicken combinations, the concept of poop sandwich comes to fruition. If bread represents the good then let a positive about the day come to light, followed by a bad or poopy thought, finished out with a tasteful positive nugget for those partaking in the sandwich to ingest. Satiation of the mind and body makes for a mellow car ride home, despite the fact that your size 13 feet are still uncomfortable in the backseat of the Subaru. No worries though, considering roughly 12 hours later, 9 of which were spent sleeping, you find yourself reflecting back over thoughts of a stupendous Sunday spent with friends who identify and exemplify what it is to live humbly and morally-sound in a place of grand beauty, such as western Colorado.


Cheers and Love,

Alan

Rambling on a Thursday

I've always imagined one day that I'll write a book and share stories from my epic [surpassing the ordinary] life. Is my goal to tout my past around like a prize-winning horse or perhaps am I just merely trying to demonstrate the lessons learned? I'd ere on the later but not everyone who might read it would think likewise.

Being adept at interpreting written word is a time-honored art [a superior skill that you can learn by study, practice, and observation]. Some writers make it very easy to understand what tone or attitude they are trying to convey; others, not so much. With the current state of books becoming more and more technologically advanced, I would not be surprised to find that books of the future will be read on devices such as Amazon's Kindle - very book-like but on a screen no larger than twice the size of current cell phones. Ahh technology...

...welcome to the death [end: a final state] of clear communication and widespread interpersonal skills in the young. With txting [read: texting] becoming increasingly popular and practical all across the age spectrum, it would come of no surprise that many people will lose practice of old-fashioned face to face communication skills [the learned capacity to carry out pre-determined results often with the minimum outlay of time, energy, or both]. If you are able to read this and say with blunt honesty [the value of speaking truth and creating trust in minds of others. This includes all varieties of communication, both verbal and non-verbal. Honesty implies a lack of deceit] that you have never encountered a miscommunication from technological devices; i.e. txting, email, etc., then keep up whatever you are doing. If you find yourself, however, being open and honest to the fact that technology has hindered [to obstruct: hinder or prevent the progress or accomplishment of] communication then pat yourself on the back because you've entered the first unofficial stage of self-help.

The longer I type on this subject, the more I find myself expressing freely on the matter. Perhaps random nights of conversation with friends has spurred this thought; or, perhaps current articles in news sources across the country have enlightened [to make free from confusion or ambiguity; make clear] my gradual acceptance of technological communication. I'd be a stone-cold liar if I said that I don't email, txt, etc.; moreover, I'd redeem myself though, by identifying my need to take an active role in technological communication discernment[discretion: the trait of judging wisely and objectively].

Sending the I had a good time txt after a date is not the same as calling the person and telling them with your tonal inflections and genuine [not fake or counterfeit] attitude. Perhaps it is here that we kick the tech crutch and rely on old-fashioned interpersonal [being, relating to, or involving relations between persons] communication [the activity of conveying information] like it's been done for years since Alexander Graham Bell's invention, or since cavemen turned grunts into sentences about feelings, emotions, and the latest town gossip.

Am I being to verbose [long-winded: using or containing too many words] to a population that already understands this dilemma [state of uncertainty or perplexity especially as requiring a choice between equally unfavorable options]? (Unfavorable in the sense that we can and cannot live without technology). If so, how do we reach the target audience, and what do they look like, dress like, and who are their parents? Question [challenge the accuracy of] the statement. Answer [be liable or accountable for] the statement. To all would-be or current parents out there: keep the I and U in communication; especially when my "I's" are on "U". Teach your children to communicate without their techy devices. Once a generation of great communicators dies, what lays in store for the remaining mortals? Food [anything that provides mental stimulus for thinking] for thought [the process of using your mind to consider something carefully]. Have a good day.


Brought to you by Alan's brain :)