Hello and Welcome to An Altitude Problem. I sit here when I should be at work, and I did try to go be useful, but I was banished until after the storage unit was cleaned out and all the excess stuff inside taken to the dump. Apparently, I am a little too committed to keeping things out of landfills. I immediately start separating a pile for Goodwill, a pile for Yahoo Freecycle (a local forum dedicated to keeping things out of landfills by getting the word out where such items can be had for free) a pile for ReCycle Ski and Sport, a pile to donate to my mom's sewing circle and a homeless shelter. This annoys B, the anti-hoarder. I am trying hard not to think about all the towels and sheets that could have been used by the homeless, all the stuff that someone, somewhere, could have used that is now buried forever, taking up space and completely useless.

I spent a little time of my own at the landfill this morning, but it was not landfill-related. I saw a friend had posted on facebook that Oro Grande was dry and ready to ride, so I loaded up bike and dog and drove to the Dillon Trailhead, even though the other end of the trail is much closer to my house. I was not sure if the trail would be dry in the trees behind the landfill. turns out, it was, and I rode the entire length of the Oro grande trail, only finding about forty feet of trail muddy enough to stick to my tires and flick onto my legs. Even there, it was not deep enough to make my sidewalls muddy. I am completely ecstatic that mountain biking is already possible in Summit County, even though it is on the most tame trail around. I'll bet it's another six weeks, though, before the Ranch is dry enough. I pretend I am already racing, that tough broads are ahead of me, and I feel terribly inadequate as my burning legs churn to keep up, catch up, and my breathing becomes more strangled gasps than rhythmic inhales and exhales. I do not know why I do this to myself. But I have come to the conclusion that I must have a terrible inferiority complex, because everything must be a race with me. Even when I am the only person in a five mile radius, I still race. I do not like being last, even in an imaginary queue. I don't even like not being in the lead. Deep down, on a barely conscious level, I believe that failure in any area at all must certainly mean that I, myself, am a failure. It leads me to alienate others by my fierce competitiveness, makes me have the worst crashes. And even though I know this, I can not bring myself to relax and just enjoy the ride and slow down to let the burning ease out of my thighs and calves. At least not until I am a safe distance in the lead.

Speaking of Yahoo Freecycle, I scored a bike trainer for free the other day that I am trying to learn how to ride. It is the type that consists of three rolling drums that I am supposed to balance on top of while pedaling. So far, I have not moved out of the doorway, so I can catch myself when I start to fall over. B makes fun of me, because I am riding indoors wearing protective gear. In my defense, my elbows would be rather bruised if I were not wearing the elbow guards, because of all the bracing myself against the doorway. I suspect I will be a much better rider once I get it mastered. In the meantime, I am actually having a lot of fun. There is nothing boring about stationary biking if there is nothing to hold one upright. At least not yet. My knuckles are white from the time I climb on until the time I dismount.

Until later...I suspect the deed is done by now, the trip to the landfill is over, and my help would probably be appreciated again.