The Aggie Theater resides in Old Town Fort Collins just south of College and Mountain. The venue has been entertaining Coloradans for over 105 years. I pass by marquee almost every day when I go downtown to work. According to the signage, quite a few bands make their way through the Aggie Theater.

I have been meaning to check out a show, but just haven’t made the time for it. On Monday night my friend Seth of Hoptocopter Films texted me and asked if I’d like to help him record audio for a live show of You, Me, and Apollo at the venue. I’d actually been thinking about going to the show for the head liner, Imagine Dragons. With You, Me, and Apollo playing too, it was like a bonus prize.

Maxwell Hughes took the stage first. He was a slap guitar player and played originals and covers in the style of August Rush. He played some pretty difficult pieces, and they were fun to listen to.

Next up was You, Me, and Apollo. I know most of their songs by now, but they pulled out a couple of new ones that I enjoyed. They played one song that had a 60′s swing feel to it that got most of the crowd moving in one way or another.

During their show I was monitoring levels on the live recording, so I didn’t to engage as much into the energy of their performance. They always bring it though.

Imagine Dragons took the stage last. I had heard a couple of their songs on 93.3 out of Denver, so I was somewhat familiar with their music. Imagine Dragons are out of Las Vegas, and hit it hard right off the bat.

It is hard to describe their style because they seem to experiment between indie rock and pop. Some songs almost had a dubstep feel, while others sounded almost top 40. They reminded me of a mix between 30 Seconds to Mars and The Killers. The coolest part was the giant bass drum the lead singer played on stage while he sang. During many of the songs he and the drummer had a “dueling percussion” exchange.

The audience loved it.

I had a great time at the show and can’t wait to see another one at The Aggie Theater. Thanks for the invite Seth!

After months of preparation, I finally competed in my first mountain bike race. I drove down to Pueblo, Colorado, for the Voodoo Fire, the first race in the Rocky Mountain Endurance series.

I didn’t know what to expect, since it was my first bike racing experience. My main goal was to learn how a bike race operates and concentrate on my nutrition. No matter how I did I was proud of my myself just for making it this far.

The morning of the race I arrived at the course early so I wouldn’t be rushed. I attached my bike’s front wheel, put on my racing kit, and warmed up on my way to the starting line.

At 8:00 am I lined up at the start. We left in waves, and I started with the Marathon men in the 20-32 years old category. There were about fourteen of us that rolled out together to start the 66 mile race.

We rode on pavement for a couple miles and then we took a sharp turn onto the singletrack. The fast course had lots of twists and turns and quick ups and downs. It reminded me a lot of the desert trails in Grand Junction.

Quickly I reached my peak heart rate and I knew I need to pull back, which was hard to do with racers flying up behind me and wanting to pass. I have never seen people ride mountain bikes that fast before.

I know it was my first race, but I thought I was in decent shape. Heck, I was in the best shape I’ve ever been on a mountain bike. I had to remind myself that most of these racers had been doing this for years. On the positive side, I have a lot of room for improvement.

There was never a time to relax on the trail. It was fast paced action the entire 22 mile lap. Since the trail was so narrow, most racers would go off course as they sped around me, narrowly dodging cacti just off the trail.

The last couple miles before the finish had some short, steep climbs. My legs and lungs were screaming as I cross the finish line to start lap two. I had finished my first lap in just over two hours.

I stopped at my duffel bag, changed out my empty water bottle, and downed half a gel. I hopped back on my bike and headed out for the second lap, covered in a layer of dust from the first 22 miles.

This lap I knew more of what to expect from the terrain, and the field was more spread out so it didn’t feel so crowded. My legs were in pain though. I tried to pull back a little bit so I would have something left for the last lap.

I sat back and raced my race at my pace. It still hurt, but I knew it was sustainable for me. At this point I also developed a sharp pain in my back. After weaving in out and of canyons, I reached a long stretch of sand on top of a plateau. The trail was rutted out horribly and I bounced along painfully, even on my full suspension Specialized Stumpjumper.

I dropped back into the canyon after what seemed like an hour, and the trail began twisting and turning erratically. Just as I climbed out of the canyon and onto another plateau, I heard a horrible crunching sound and my wheel locked up.

I pulled off the side of the trail and looked back. My rear derailleur was lying inside my rear wheel. On closer inspection I saw that my derailleur hanger had broken, which sent my derailleur into my rear wheel, breaking it and a couple spokes in the process.

I sat down in the middle of the desert and tried to remove the broken hanger, but no matter how hard I tried it wouldn’t budge. Frustrated, I walked my bike half a mile to the aid station I had passed earlier in the race.

Thankfully I had broken down somewhat close to civilization. I found out that other unfortunate racers had had to walk their bikes over five miles across the hot desert to reach the aid station.

I reached the tent and drank a couple cups of cold water. I surveyed the damage again, and it began to sink in that there was no way I could finish the race with my bike in that condition.

I felt disappointed as I sat there in the sand looking at my rear wheel.

This wasn’t how I had pictured my first bike race. I had been training for months. I had been eating right and training hard. I had driven all the way down to Pueblo to ride.

I wasn’t angry though. I knew I had given it everything I had. Even if it didn’t go as planned, I had no regrets.

Here I was, sitting in the middle of the desert, exhausted from riding hard for the last three and half hours. Four months ago I had stumbled across the RME series and thought, why not? Why not give racing a shot.

I had turned thought into action.

Sure, I’ve got a long way to go. But this is a personal journey. I’m learning to push the limits of what I thought was possible, both mentally and physically. I won’t let this small setback keep me from reaching my full potential.

A year ago I would have felt embarrassed and ashamed at my inability to finish. But I have learned that failures in life are nothing to be ashamed of. I know the pain and sweat that I have put into this. No one can take that away from me.

I picked myself up, dusted of my jersey, and moved on. I have another race to prepare for. And once again, I will give it everything I’ve got.

No man is an island. We weren’t created to go through life alone. We were created to be a part of a greater community. Even though community is a “buzzword” right now, that doesn’t take away our need for it.

According to the dictionary, community is defined as:

a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals

When we share common interests with other people, it gives us a place to belong in this vast, meaningfully unconnected world. Though we have tools like Facebook and Twitter, deep connection cannot take place outside of face to face interaction.

All of the technology in the world can’t replace a meal with friends around the dinner table.

One thing I have learned about community is that I have to be intentional. Community rarely just happens. Since moving to Fort Collins I have been proactively developing a community of friends and acquaintances.

Here’s a list of places that I have been able to find community in Fort Collins.

1. Mill City Church

My friend Nick first invited me to Mill City on my second day in town back in October. I liked the simplicity of the church and the people I met there. I began to make friends, and shared a connection with many of them in that we went to ORU. After a time I got involved on the worship team playing bass, and met even more amazing people.

Each week I get together with someone from Mill City outside of service, whether over coffee or having them over to my house for dinner. As a church it is important not to rely on Sunday only to build community, but to be involved in each others’ lives throughout the day to day struggles and triumphs.

2. Meetups

One of the first places I checked when I knew I was moving to Fort Collins was meetup.com, a website devoted to connecting people around a common interest in real world settings. I found an internet focused meetup called Fort Collins Internet Pros and joined right away.

I have been to almost every meeting since then, and have met some really cool people. This past meetup I even co-presented on the topic of Google Webmaster Tools.

I also looked for a WordPress meetup, but found the closest one was in Boulder. After a couple months of living in Fort Collins, I mustered up the courage to start a WordPress meetup in Fort Collins. I saw a need, and I wanted to do something to fill it.

I was nervous about how it would turn out, but after two meetups we have over 50 members signed up for the group. I have also developed a good working relationship with a couple of people from the meetup.

3. Overland Mountain Bike Club

My other “first stop” when checking out Fort Collins was to see if they had any type of mountain bike association to help me get plugged in to the local mountain bike community. I love mountain biking, and a great way to connect with others is over a shared love for an activity. I joined the Overland Mountain Bike Club a few weeks ago and have already been on a couple social rides with the group.

They also have a program called the Diamond Peaks Bike Patrol, a volunteer organization that helps patrol the trails around Fort Collins. I thought it would be a great way to give back to the community and learn more about Fort Collins, so I am currently going through the required training to become a mountain bike patroler. Once again, I’m meeting some great people.

Building community is important no matter where you live. It can also take a lot of work. But developing deep relationships is a key factor in living life to the fullest. I hope that some of the friendships I am building right now will be with me for the rest of my life. I know that kind of community is worth the initial investment.

How are you involved in community? What are you doing to build meaningful relationships?

Have you ever been to a coffee cupping? If you’re a coffee connoisseur like me, then you should. The experience will take your coffee tasting abilities to the next level. Coffee becomes less about the caffeine kick, and more about the subtle characteristics such as sweetness, body, and acidity. Kind of like a fine wine.

This past Friday I attended my first coffee cupping in Fort Collins. While a little off the beaten path, the experience was definitely worth it. Add this to your list of what to do in Fort Collins.

Located in Old Town, Jonathan owns and operates Harbinger Coffee out of a small kiosk. He features a new roaster every month, bringing in coffee from craft roasters all over the country.

He hosts a coffee cupping every Friday at 2PM at the single, small table in front of his coffee stand. There were about six of us in attendance for the cupping, so it didn’t feel too crowded.

The coffee was from a small batch roaster in San Francisco, who only roasts two pounds at a time. And the specific coffees were trying today had been roasted specifically for Harbinger The Coffee Spot. Pretty cool!

He only had two varieties of coffee, so instead of trying out 4-6 different roasts and comparing their characteristics, Jonathan had us play a game of sorts. He cupped the two coffees into three different glasses, and our challenge was to guess which one was the odd man out.

He poured the hot water over the freshly ground coffee beans. We stuck our noses down next to the wet coffee and smelled each one. After four minutes had passed we broke the crust on top of each glass and began tasting.

We each grabbed a spoon, dipped it into the coffee, and loudly slurped the coffee sample. Jonathan told us to think about the coffee’s sweetness, acidity, and body. As each coffee sample hit my tongue, I tried to categorize it by those characteristics. With each taste I tried to figure out which coffee was not like the others.

After a couple rounds of tasting each sample, we had each chosen which coffee we believed was the odd man out. We went around pointing to the glass we thought was by itself. By the end each glass had been chosen, so we knew a couple of us had to be wrong.

After Jonathan revealed the imposter, it turned out that I had guessed right. My coffee snobbery paid off once again.

If you are ever in the mood for great coffee and a great learning experience, I would highly recommend attending one of Harbinger’s coffee cuppings. I know I’ll be back soon.

There are less than three weeks left until my first mountain bike race. I’m excited to race my MTB for the first time, but I’m terrified at the same time. Will I be able to finish? Do I have what it takes to be a mountain bike racer?

The first race in the Rocky Mountain Endurance series takes place on the eastern shore of Lake Pueblo in Pueblo, CO. It is a 66 mile race around a smooth single track course. I’ve never ridden there before, and I know that is contributing to some of my nervousness.

I have always had an internal motivation to push myself to grow beyond my current abilities. I started mountain biking five years ago, but until now haven’t had the courage to commit to racing. I kept telling myself that I’m not good enough. What if I get out there and finish last? What if I burn out? What if my bike falls apart?

This January I told myself that enough is enough. When I found the RME series online one evening, I knew I had to do it. I needed a challenge that would push my limits and teach me how to take my skills to the next level.

Most of all, I need to do this for myself. I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. But this race series is all about me proving to myself that I can do this. There is still fight left inside of me. I am strong and powerful. I have what it takes to be a mountain bike racer. I have what it takes to live this life to the fullest.

As the race draws closer I continue to train hard and push my limits. Some days I don’t feel like training. Some days every muscle in my body aches. But in a sick kind of way, I enjoy it. With each twinge of pain I know I am getting stronger.

I know I am alive.

Bring it.

This past weekend I drove seven hours to Moab to participate in the Moab Skinny Tire Festival. I have ridden my mountain bike all over Moab, but have never experienced it on a road bike. I found the event online a few months ago and have been dieing to get back to the red rock canyons out west, so I recruited my friends Daniel and Cherissa to join me.

We loaded our camping gear in my Rav4, secured our bikes to my Yakima roof rack, and drove over seven hours from Fort Collins through the Rocky Mountains to reach Moab, UT by sundown. After registering for the event we found a campsite at Goose Island Campground and pitched our tents. I would like to say we went to bed early to prepare for the ride early the next morning, but instead we made a pit stop at Moab Brewery. Preride fuel at its finest.

Saturday morning we crept out of our warm sleeping bags and were greeted by temperatures in the low 30s. The weather app on my phone promised 70s and sunny for the weekend, but desert mornings in the spring can be quite chilly. After a quick breakfast of oatmeal and french press coffee, we drove a couple miles to the starting line at Aarchway Inn on the outskirts of Moab.

The Moab Skinny Tire Festival suggested a start time of 8am, but since it wasn’t a race there was no mass start. The purpose of the event was to raise money for cancer research and the cancer center of the Moab hospital. According to the organizer, over $28,000 was donated to local hospital on behalf of the event.

At roughly 9am we left the starting line and began climbing out of the Moab Valley on the bike path paralleling Highway 191. The ride started as an easy spin to warm up my stiff, cold muscles. After a couple miles on the bike path it rose sharply and really got my blood pumping. I climbed above the highway below as my breathing quickened. Time to get to work.

This year I am training for the Rocky Mountain Endurance Series, a series of mountain bike races along the Colorado Front Range. This first day’s ride up to Dead Horse Point State Park presented a perfect opportunity for a training ride. The route gained over 2700 feet of elevation from the start up to Highway 313. I had my heart rate monitor strapped to my wrist, excited for a beautiful day and brutal climb.

Forty five minutes into the ride I reached the first aid station. My body had warmed up, so I removed my wind jacket and grabbed a peanut butter Girl Scout cookie for an extra energy boost. After exiting the aid station I began my ascent up Highway 313. I wound my way along the old highway surrounded by giant sandstone buttes. Even though I was pushing hard, I still made sure to soak in my surroundings. A trip through canyon country is sensory overload. You can’t open your eyes without seeing a breathtaking view.

I climbed switchback after switchback, passing other riders struggling to propel their bike in a forward motion. My legs felt good and I continued to climb with my Specialized Tarmac up the winding route, checking my heart rate monitor every so often to make sure I wasn’t pushing it too hard. My training plan tells me how hard to ride, and I try to follow it as closely as possible.

I finally reached the end of steep climb up the side of the canyon wall and the route flattened out somewhat as the desert landscape spread out before me. Sage brush and juniper dotted the red dirt in every direction. The Wasatch Mountains came into the view in the west, the Henry Mountains appeared faintly from the south, and the La Sal Mountains spread out before me to the east. The views around Moab are my favorite anywhere in the country. I will never get enough of the rock formations, giant red buttes, snow capped peaks, and towering canyon walls. Pedaling through this landscape, whether on the trail or road, is nothing short of magical.

Around two and a half hours into my ride I turned off Highway 313 and entered Dead Horse Point State Park. The turnaround point of the out and back was at the lookout at the end of the park. I had been to Canyonlands National Park a few miles away quite a few times, but had never ventured to the smaller state park next to it. As I soaked in new views of the canyons surrounding Moab, I increased my pace to the turnaround point. One, I wanted to finish strong. Second, a tasty lunch awaited me at the turnaround point. I continued to pass fellow riders as I cranked up the last hill, and then coasted into the parking area of the lookout.

I took a few moments to catch my breath and rack my bike along with the hundreds of others already spread out in the parking lot like a road bike smorgasboard. I walked over to the lunch table, grabbed a roast beef sandwich and brownie, and clippity-clopped in my road bike shoes to the overlook. I found an empty seat on an outcropping of sandstone, lowered myself down onto the warm rock, and unwrapped my sandwich.

By this time the sun had peaked in the cloudless sky. I looked out over the vast expanse of dirt and rock that is Canyonlands National Park. The dirty Colorado River wound its way through the canyons thousands of feet below me. The snow capped peaks of the La Sal Mountains in the distance juxtaposed the dry, barren landscape. I had been waiting for this moment for a long time. I was finally back in my Moab.

The first one I checked out was Kaladi Brothers Coffee. According to legend Kaladi is the name of the shepherd that discovered coffee beans after noticing his sheep became excited once eating a certain red berry, what we now know as the coffee cherry.

Kaladi Brothers Coffee sits just north of Denver University campus and was very busy when I showed up. They roast their own coffee beans using an unorthodox air-roasted coffee method. You can buy it by the pound, or get a fresh cup. The free refills were nice too. I worked there all morning as students and other patrons filtered in out. They had tons of vintage espresso machines and photos as well, including one of the first espresso machines ever built.

From there I drove to Crema Coffee House where I spent the afternoon. It was just north of Downtown Denver in a more run down neighborhood. When I walked in I could immediately tell this place had a hipster vibe and feel, with the crazy artwork and eclectic baristas. When I glanced over their coffee selection I discovered that they had two of my favorites, Stumptown and Herkimer. Both of these coffees are roasted in the Pacific Northwest, and I used to live just a few blocks from the Herkimer coffee shop in Greenwood.

I ecstatically ordered a latte made with Herkimer beans and talked to the barista about Seattle for a bit as he made my latte. I sat down on a wooden bench made out of a log and worked on my laptop while sipping my tasty Herkimer latte. It was quite good, made even more so because I knew it had come from Seattle. A twinge of nostalgia hit me as finished the last sip.

The next day I made my final stop at Pablo’s Coffee, a local spot in the Alamo Placita neighborhood recommended to me by my friend Kathy. It was a little bigger than Kaladi and Crema, and their coffee, roasted in house, was amazing. My second cup was an African blend and tasted strongly of blueberries. So good. I bought a pound of their coffee to take home with me and settled into a booth to get some work done. They didn’t have wifi, but thankfully I picked up an open network.

I could tell Pablo’s Coffee was a neighborhood shop because every table had at least two or three people conversing over a cup of coffee. I love places like that.

Last night I attended my first Ignite presentation series at Ignite Fort Collins. The tagline is “Enligten us, but make it quick”, so I showed up ready for anything. The schedule said there would be 14 presentations, each on a completely different topic.

The rules of an Ignite presentation kept the speeches interesting the entire night. A speaker puts together a five minute talk about whatever they are passionate about. A slideshow accompanies them, with slides that change automatically after 20 seconds. The amount of slides equals their five minute presentation. Since the speaker has no control over advancing the slides, it keeps them progressing through their talk until the end.

Many speakers would be in the middle of describing a slide, when it would advance and they would have to quickly wrap up their point and move on to the next. However, some would speak too fast and have to wait with awkward silence for the next slide to appear.

I met some great people in the audience and we commented on the different presentations, noting the memorable, funny, and entertaining ones. The topics ranged from duct tape to massage in schools, and everything in between. A couple speeches drug on, but most were engaging because of the fast paced nature of the format. I learned about many interesting subjects such as permaculture, TEDx, and being creative in the business world.

The atmosphere of the room was one of support and excitement. The audience engaged with every speaker. Ideas and passions spread throughout the auditorium.

I left that evening inspired to try new things and ideas. I might even apply to give a talk at the next Ignite event.

Sunsets have meant a lot to me this year. I spent many evenings reflecting on life while watching the circling sun retreat behind the horizon. In many ways I feel it is a reflection of my own journey. The sunsets also brought me peace.

This has been one of the hardest years of my life. I faced trials that have tested me to my core. In the midst of pain, however, I have also found beauty. Immense beauty. No matter how ugly life my be, there is always beauty if only you look hard enough.

I love a sunset that spans the horizon and fills the sky with rays of yellow fire. The tapestry of color crescendos with a burst of white light as the sun dips below the surface of the earth. The peace of the moment surrounds your being and words are irrelevant.

A sunset defines God’s love and beauty in a way that words cannot. As 2011 comes to end, spend a moment to reflect on life and bask in the sun’s waning glow.

Sunset from Carkeek Park

Sunset over the Pacific Ocean from Cape Flattery

Sunset over the Oklahoma horizon

Fire ball sunset from Carkeek Park

Sunset from West Seattle

Sunset at Neah Bay

Sunset through an Oklahoma thunderstorm

Sunset over the cliffs of Cape Flattery

Sunset over Horsetooth Reservoir in Fort Collins

Sunset reflected off Mt. Rainier

Sunset over the Olympic Mountains from Golden Gardens

Sunset from the most Northwestern point of the contiguous United States

My last sunset over the Puget Sound at Carkeek Park

Thank you to everyone who has helped me continue to see the beauty in life.

This fall I finally got to go mountain biking in Oklahoma. I couldn’t wait to ride the singletrack in my hometown of Ardmore. Though I grew up ten minutes away from Lake Murray State Park, I didn’t get into mountain biking until after I’d moved away from home. And every time I came home afterwards I never had my mountain bike with me.

My last trip home I drove instead of flew, so I brought my bikes along for the ride. The first chance I got I put on my bike gear to check out the local trails. I arrived at 7am on a Saturday morning and had the trailhead almost to myself. The oppressive summer heat had given way to cool crisp mornings, the perfect temperature for a good, hard ride.

I saddled up my Specialized Stumpjumper Comp and rolled out on the Buckhorn Trail. The trail network has been built up over time by a small group of local mountain bikers. The closest bike shop to Ardmore is over an hour away in Norman. Locals, though few and far between, are dedicated riders. A network of almost twenty miles of singletrack lies along the western shore of Lake Murray. And it isn’t just some flat dirt road with a couple trees.

The trails are a blast and will challenge even the most technical rider. I rode through rock gardens, climbed some tough hills, switchbacked around rocks and trees, dropped off of some big ledges, descended some gnarly downhill sections, and balanced across a few narrow wooden bridges. Even though I was only half way through I was already starting to suck some wind.

I ran into a couple of the local trail builders and joined them for the second half of my ride. They took me on a race loop they had built for the annual Red River Shootout Mountain Bike Race that is held at Lake Murray. The race is a part of the Tour de Dirt, the name of Oklahoma’s Mountain Bike Championship Series. They cleaned difficult sections of trail easily and I could tell I was on their turf. Not wanting to be outdone, I followed their lines and cleaned most of the features myself, but a couple of technical sections stopped me in my tracks while they whizzed on through the scrub oak forest.

After finishing a thrilling three hour ride, I was ecstatic. I can’t believe I grew up only ten minutes from Lake Murray, home to some of the best singletrack in Oklahoma. I can’t wait to bring my bike back to Ardmore, Oklahoma and ride the trails again.

View trail map from the Oklahoma Earthbike Fellowship