Making it...

Making It © Mike Moore Studios 2026

 Making it. There's not much in the way of bigger rushes, than simply making it. Make it with a little flair, or something extra? Even better! But still, just the simple act of making it keeps us coming back. This little hill in the picture above is steeper than it looks, and the approach has been cropped away so you can't see it all...what I'm trying to say is I was happy I made it. I was happy enough to lay my bike down, walk down the hill and try to take a pic that captured that feeling, not sure I made that, but you gotta keep trying.

Making it. I've spent most of my life on an island, I thought I was the only one "here", save for a few passersby. I thought I had depression. Doctors have agreed. In the last few years that diagnosis was amended to one of anxiety with depression. It's never been a picnic, but these were the cards I was dealt, and I've tried to deal with it as best as possible. I was making it.

Both my kids have been diagnosed with ADHD, it is apparently genetic. The gift that keeps on giving. I always thought the depression and/or anxiety label wasn't exactly right for me, that there were too many other components. My therapist and primary doctor both thought it a good idea for me to get an ADHD screening. Surprise, and no surprise! I got it, and I got it.

Making it. The doc added a new med and I'm about 2 weeks into it. I feel like my focus is improving, when I'm not wandering away chasing shiny squirrels. I'd decided early on I wouldn't weaponize my condition, wouldn't use it as an excuse. It is interesting to look back on my life through this new lens though. Being called lazy, accused of not paying attention, always sucked because it never felt right, I knew more was going on in my head right then, than had likely gone on it that person's ever. I understand better why I've never really been a "rah rah team player" kind of guy, why I'm not a fan of authority, why I question nearly everything, why the noggin never turns off, etc. etc. I think a lot of folks my age probably have it, but when we were kids unless you were just a completely hyperkinetic whirlwind...you were in the general population, and you played those cards I mentioned earlier. I guess we can blame the red Jello. Mental health care for children wasn't a public school priority in Texas in the 70s, nor is it likely now.

Making it, means carrying some baggage too. Part of me wants to apologize to everyone I've ever known that's had to put up with some less than rad version of me, but that would likely take a substantial amount of time, and effort, and I AM known for being a little lazy (😉), so I think I'll let that be. Another part is pissed that I have it, that I've had to deal with it, and worse...that I passed it to my kids. It is what it is, and knowing is better than not knowing, I'm making it, and life will most assuredly go on, but it would be cool to get some credit for time served.

I am eternally grateful to all those that made some space for me in their lives and here's hoping I made that space just a little better. At at least 2/3s of the way through on this ride, I'm admittedly tired of just making it. I'd like to excel a bit, "live up to my full potential", since apparently I never did. (Ouch! I guess we can put that in the things from the past that hurt a bit). Life is good, and getting better everyday. I've got my fingers crossed behind my back, but I'm stoked.

Good times!

Hills to climb...

Hills to Climb © Mike Moore Studios 2025

 We've all got hills to climb. Sometimes they're quick and punchy, sometimes they seem to go on forever. Even with 12 speeds, the rough and rocky nature of this climb had me tapping out before I made it to the top. What to do? What else? Just keep going! Maybe you don't get to the top of the hill the way you intended, but find a way. Take a deep breath, or 50, have some of that water, then just start putting one foot in front of the other...you'll make it. When you get to the top, take a minute to look back and see what you've accomplished, feel good about it, then get back on and go. There will be more hills.

When I was younger, my only interest in hills was making it down them as quick as possible using whatever tricks I could find. Now, as I'm square dab in the silver years, I'm beginning to see the beauty, and necessity, of all sorts of hills. Not gonna lie, sometimes they straight up SUCK in a make you wanna puke sorta way. The relief you feel when you make it verges on transformative, if you let it. If you don't? Quite likely not the end of the world, it may feel that way at the time, but use your experience to make it up the next hill. Maybe it's a line choice, maybe someone else can help with some guidance, let you know how they made it. Listen and learn, take it to heart, but at the end of the day...the hills are up to you to climb.

Avoiding the hills won't make them go away, trust me I've tried, there will always be another one lurking. Face the hill, have a plan, and start climbing. Being at the top looking down, is infinitely better than being at the bottom looking up. The view from a tough hill you've made it up can't be beat.

Good Times!

It's the New Year! Who wants a resolution?

Here it comes, barreling at you like a hopped up spider monkey—2025, baby, and I’m kicking off with my annual anti-resolution resolution. That’s right. Pass on the promises, dodge the self-improvement platitudes, and swerve hard away from the "dang, I didn't learn Origami this year" guilt spiral. Who needs another regret in the dumpster fire of modern existence? Not me, amigo.

One bike ride logged this year. One. And the art? Less than that. Am I sweating it? Not yet. The real world has yanked my leash lately, and while paying attention to it isn’t my A-game, I’m trying. If I learned one thing from G.I. Joe, "knowing is half the battle". The other half? I’m guessing bullshit and duct tape, but don’t quote me on that.

Let’s talk 2024. Oh yeah, it brought its fair share of ass kicks and bitch slaps. Newsflash: 2023 wasn’t a picnic either. And guess what? 2025 will probably come at ya too. That’s the deal, folks. Life shows up, punches your ticket, and rides you around the sun whether you’re grinning or grimacing. The secret sauce? Somewhere in that maelstrom of chaos, there’s also love, laughs, and moments that make you wanna throw your head back and howl at the moon. Focus on those. Ignore the rest—or at least try to.

But wait, let’s circle back—because I lied...

"Resolve This" © Mike Moore Studios 2025

There is one tiny little resolution, buried under all this blather. Not really a resolution. More like a grudge match between me and a chunk of dirt. There’s this 25-foot section of trail I’ve never conquered, at least not this direction. It's not as flat as it looks, weird angles, obbstacles straight out of Beelzebubba’s design catalog. Dozens—maybe hundreds—of attempts, and every time it spits me out like gas station Sushi. But 2025 is the year. It’s not a resolution, damn it. It’s a goal. And goals? Goals are made to be CRUSHED. Good GOB, could I be any more cheesy? Most likely.

Here’s the final scoop: take care of yourself. Take care of others too, if you’ve got the bandwidth. Why slap a time limit on it? Forget “new year, new me.” Just keep trying to be less of a dick every day. Improvements? Sure, let’s sprinkle those in.

Good Times.

When you get bucked off...

"Bucked Off" © Mike Moore Studios 2024

 

There’s that old cowboy mantra — "When you get bucked off, get back on!" — rattling around in my head like a rock in a hubcap. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not one for motivational nonsense. Those kitten posters telling me to “hang in there” just make me wanna roll my eyes. Sure, hope the little furball makes it, but seriously, we all got our own battles, right? Suck it up, buttercup. (Kidding… mostly.) No one deserves to go through hell, but do we really need discount hobby shop wall art screeching “Live, Laugh, Love” at us like some demented suburban mantra? Makes me wanna “Hurl, Puke, Vomit.”

Dammit… I’ve drifted off the trail here. Focus.

Okay, so picture this: I’m just your average overgrown manchild, who, in a moment of misguided showboating, managed to “injure” himself. Yeah, injured. Nick, my ever-wise buddy, pointed that out. “You didn’t get hurt, man. You injured yourself.” And damn it, he’s right. It’s been a while since I’ve been legitimately injured, and I guess I’d just forgotten that it could still happen. I’ve never been the gnar god, with skateboarding or mountain bikes, keeping it relatively low key — just trying to stay around maybe a “twist your ankle if you mess up” level. But, you know, sometimes life will give you a taste of knuckle sammich.

Fast forward to today. My third ride since getting cleared to run free again. Back at the scene of the crime, BLORA. Knocked out a solid 10 miles, the sun shining, wind in my face, and — miracle of miracles — no trips to the ER.

(Side note: tried to do this on Tuesday, but forgot my helmet like the aforementioned manchild I am. I took it as a sign from the Ride Gods, packed up, and went home. No tantrums, no broken bones, just a wounded ego.)

Now, on the way back home, I pass another trail — Miller Springs. The legs were feeling like they were plugged into an electrical socket, so I thought, why not? Stopped and knocked out a few more miles of a favorite hunk of trail still recovering from tornado redecorating.

So now here I am, tapping out this rambling mess of thoughts. Bottom line? I got bucked off, but I’m back on, baby. Feeling invincible, ready to tackle the world, and hey, there’s some amazing leftover vittles waiting for me. Life’s good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some vacuuming to do and some scrubbing bubbles to set loose.

Have Fun!