This may end up being a complete stream of consciousness post. I could apologize, but…
This weekend is Rocktoberfest. What is Rocktoberfest, you might ask? Well, it’s the annual rock climber get together that’s been going on for quite some time now in the Red River Gorge. It’s a bit to do. Lots of people come from all over the country and world to the Red in October for a festival type event. Its part homecoming, part party, and I don’t know, a whole lot else. I will not be attending. I did my stints back in the early aughts. The people I climbed with have moved on to other places, or have faded into the background, or don’t climb anymore.
Mandy and I have decided to go climbing tomorrow because the weather is supposed to be fantastic and we have a lot of shiny new gear to scratch up. Saturday promises to be that kind of day: full-on fall and sublimely enjoyable.
I’m itching to climb. Trad, sport, boulder, aid. Anything, really. I want to be back on the rock. I’m not giving up on mountain biking, but I miss climbing. I miss it a lot. I miss the Gorge proper. I used to spend a lot of time roaming the Gorge looking for virgin rock to defile all the time. Meant I spent a whole lot of time hiking and not much time climbing, but it was all for the greater good.
Speaking of the Gorge. Last night there was a special called meeting of the Powell County Tourism Commission. I went. The clarion call on Facebook was that the Commission was going to vote to take the restaurant tax and give it all up for non-tourism interests. I don’t think that was the purpose exactly. The whole meeting ended up being public input and a badly moderated Q&A session. I stood up and made my pitch for going big or going home. In regards to branding we have the Red River Gorge. No one else does. And we try to brochure our way to success. Not going to happen. I’m disappointed in our lack of effort. Sit down. Shut up.
I didn’t get a standing ovation, but from that crowd I’ll take smiles and head nods.
My eyeballs are inflamed. Still. It’s seriously cramping my strict training regime of sporadic workouts and a performance diet of sugar and grease. I’ve got to get the infection and the addictions under control. I have to. I’m not going to live to a ripe old age or at the very least have poor quality of life in the nursing home someday if I don’t change my evil ways.
|Doing my Clark Kent thing|
Cross country season is winding down. Being an assistant coach has also cramped my style quite a bit. I love doing it, and the coach really needed me and the other assistant this year as there are nearly fifty kids that came out at the beginning of the season and most are still running. That’s amazing for a school system in a county of 12,000 people. I love working with the kids and seeing them break through barriers and find their legs. It’s really more than just trying to relive my (brief) glory days. It truly is inspiring to watch them change over the season or from season to season.
According to my recent bloodwork I had levels of antibodies for Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, but not “clinical levels.” I guess that means I didn’t officially have it, but it explains my body’s reaction by breaking out in spots all over my body and itching like crazy for a miserable month or so. I’m mostly over it, but I wonder if my inflamed eyes aren’t related.
I’ve stalled out on writing much lately. I need to get busy, pin up and ship out LOB and put out the call for submission for a collection I intend to publish. I’m going to self-publish it as well. We’ll see what happens.
Anyway, that’s all the news that new and improved. Or something like that.