Saturday, September 15, 2012

Peak to Peak

“Now there’s a real mountain man” said the middle-aged* guy without (as far as I could tell) a hint of mockery.

Despite having lived in the foothills of the Rockies for over 10 years, it’s not often I’m mistaken for Grizzly Adams so at first, I wasn’t sure what he meant.  Turned out he was expressing admiration for my walking stick.  Not yet having made the switch to these new-fangled trekking poles, I’m still rocking it old school with a shoulder high hickory staff.  Apparently this marked me out as an experienced hiker.  A veteran amongst all these rookies.  Hard core. 

His companions were suitably impressed.I wasn’t too sure myself but then it wasn’t yet 6am.  And at that time of day, I’m rarely at my most impressive.  Even worse, having slept in the back of my truck at the trailhead, I’d awoken to discover my bag contained coffee and a stove, but no cooking pots.  Which meant I was starting the day without caffeine and that’s never a good thing.It wasn’t an auspicious start to my first real-live attempt at a 14’er**

Mind you, if I was that big an animal, I probably wouldn’t be tackling Gray’s Peak in the first place.  Drive an hour or so along the freeway from Denver, then bump up 3 (admittedly steep) miles and you’re at the trailhead.  Add a wide, well-trodden and easy to follow trail, this particular 14’er is a classic “beginners peak”.  Throw in the bonus of another 14’er, Torrey’s Peak just a short dip away and it’s one of the most popular trails in Colorado.  We’re not exactly talking Wilderness Experience here. 

In fact, there were at an estimate, several dozen other hikers setting off up the trail in the pre-dawn light.Any serious hiker would have scoffed at such an endeavor.  Not so very long ago, I would have scoffed at such an endeavor.  Back in the day, I was an experienced hill walker and with my disproportionately long legs, could leave most other trekkers in the dust.  

But, in my time as a Colorado resident, I had yet to venture above 12,500 feet and as well, let’s face facts here, I’m not as young as I was back in the day, so I wasn’t entirely sure how my old carcass would cope.  I have the fond notion that when I do have my first heart attack, it would be nice if other people were around.

Anyway, real mountain man or not, I resisted the urge to set off at a fast pace, knowing I had some 3,600 feet (1,200 meters) of altitude gain ahead of me.  Possibly as a result of this, I found the going not too bad.  In the beginning at least.  The thing about climbing mountains is you need to go up.  And the further up you go, the harder it is to breathe.  After an hour or so, I was extremely glad to have my trusty mountain man walking stick along with me.  Not only did it help as a lever to push myself up some of the higher step ups, it gave me something on which to lean while desperately trying to suck oxygen into my lungs.

To be fair, I seemed to be doing better than most others around me.  I was passing more people than passed me, and of the latter group, I usually overtook them later while they were resting.  Not that I was racing you understand, not me.  Not a competitive bone in my body.  That didn’t stop me feeling a bit smug though.

Although there were 2 young guys who cruised past me on the final, steepest stretch of the climb at a point when I was wondering just beginning to wonder if this bloody mountain even had a top.  Without a trace of breathlessness, they were chatting about the Tour de France and I didn’t even have the energy to correct their misapprehension that Mark Cavendish won it this year.

I was still ruminating on the injustice of this when hey ho, would you look at that.  Here’s the summit and you know what?  I didn’t really feel all that tired.  After all this time I’d finally made it to the top of a 14’er.

Only took me 3 hours too so after a look around, and asking a fellow peak bagger to take the obligatory hero shot, I headed down the trail to knock off Torrey’s seeing I was up here.  The two young guys passed me on the way down, chatting about Ultimate Cage Fighting this time but I don’t know enough about that to tell you if they were correct or not.

What I do know is that the 600 or so vertical feet (275m) to the summit of Torrey’s Peak was a darn site harder than the equivalent stretch of Gray’s.  It could be that I was tiring…well, yeah I was definitely tiring but my fellow hikers seemed for the most part, to be struggling too.   I certainly wasn’t the only one stopping to “admire the view”.But the top arrived eventually, as tops generally do if you just keep going.  And the view was every bit as spectacular.  And the sense of achievement just as great.  The 2 young guys were still at the top when I arrived and as it turned out, were very personable.  From Indianapolis apparently, where they don’t even have hills so I had to admire that.

Off down the hill then and as is so often the way, I found this to be more tiring than the hike up.  It was way further than I expected too and while it only took me a couple of hours, which doesn’t sound all that long but I was bone weary by the time I finally made it to the trailhead.  Still, I’d made it to the top of not 1, but 2 of Colorado’s 14’ers.  My heart hadn’t given out and really, I hadn’t found it to be anywhere near as hard as I had feared.  So I was feeling pretty good about myself.

Better yet, my 2 young friends were still in the parking lot, sitting on the tailgate of a truck.  They’d changed into matching t-shirts and the legend emblazoned across their chests cheered me even further.“Marines”

So yeah, I’m OK with them being faster than me.

* The definition for this is a moving target but it generally means “Older than me”.
** Colorado has 54 mountains above 14,000 feet (4,268 Meters), affectionately known 14’ers. 

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Half a Century

Well there we go. According to the calendar, I’m fifty year old, as of this morning and there’s no getting round it.

Fifty years. Whoever would have thought I’d make it, eh? What’s the old line? If I’d known I was going to live this long I would have taken better care of myself? 

Well, I’m not sure about that. Looking back, I probably wouldn’t have. Most of the fun memories have been when I’ve been doing things that on hindsight; probably weren’t all that smart in terms of long-term health. Those of you who were there know the things I’m talking about.

It could be that this is why it takes me a couple of minutes to get fully upright after crawling out of bed in the morning, and why my knees hurt so much of the time. And why people feel the need to point out my grey hair as if they think I’m unaware of it but never tell me I look young for my age any more.

For the most part, it’s been a good fifty years, but there are certainly reasons I look the way I do.

Here’s how it all began, back in Stirlingshire, Scotland in 1962. Just down the road from where Mel Gibson ran around with his face painted blue.


Being the third child, the novelty had worn off somewhat for my parents and as far as I know, this is the only picture of me as a wean.

Obviously, there were more as I got older. Usually dressed in my Sunday best and standing to attention which was how my old Ma believed children should be photographed.


As you can see, I had remarkably poor taste when it came to colour coordination and dress sense back then. Hard to believe as I sit here today in frayed shorts and food splattered t-shirt, like I’ve just fallen off the page of GQ Magazine.

In my opinion, things got a lot better once I hit my late teens. Here’s me at 16



And then 17



Looking quite stud-muffinesque as I’m sure you’ll agree. Or not. Dear Wife breaks out into fits of laughter when she sees these pictures but then, what does she know? She’s always had terrible taste when it comes to me. At least since I’ve known her.

The eighties passed, as decades do and…well let’s just say that I believe all photographs of me during that era have been hunted down and wiped from the face of the earth. Which is what will happen to the smarty-pants who thinks it would be funny to produce any at this stage. Clear?

Then in 1991, I packed it all in and set off to travel around the world and see where life took me. After years of working in the public sector, wearing a suit and tie every day, I embraced the opportunity to become a smelly backpacker. 

Although sometimes I cleaned up, for special occasions such as when my Australian friend Matt and I took Malaysia by storm as the singing duo, The Batik Brothers.


So idyllic was beach bum life I was living back then, I made a vow that wherever I ended up living, it needed to have palm trees. Of course, I didn’t expect to wind up in the concrete wasteland that is Phoenix, Arizona.


But that was where I met a gurl, and within a few months I'd conned her into marrying me.


Yes, that is a dog in the bottom right hand corner and yes, I have mullet. And of course, you noticed the mullet before you noticed the dog, right? Don’t worry, it gets worse.


Most people upon seeing that photo make some reference to A Flock of Seagulls. If you aren’t as old as me, you won’t get that but then to be fair, they were fairly obscure even by the time that was taken.

Into my forties then. Not happy about it but what are ya gonna do, eh? On the plus side, we finally escaped Phoenix in 2002 and moved to Colorado. What took us so long, I can’t explain.

Sadly, this was around the onset of digital cameras, which meant that everyone was paparazzi, snapping dozens of photos at every gathering and usually, posting them online.

For reasons unclear, it became a running joke to try and get photos of me with food in my mouth. It got so I could barely eat at a party without some unflattering picture appearing on the web within minutes. I tired of the game long before everyone else did.

So, I got into the habit of either pulling a face or putting a finger up my nose whenever I sensed a camera pointing in my direction. Hey, I said I was in my forties; I never said anything about being mature.

Digital cameras I note, also have the unfortunate tendency to make me look like I have a double chin. And a big stomach. Neither of which are true, obviously.

The upshot? Not too many photos of me during this period of my life. Or at least, none that I wanted to keep on file.

This one though, was taken when I was about 46.


Another at 48


This one starts to give you an idea of where the mystery stomach came from.

At least I remembered to suck it in for this photo, taken just after I’d come off my bike. Again. My ability to stay upright on a bicycle hasn’t improved with age.


Earlier this year at 49, I shaved my head for charity, which instantly transformed me into a badass. Oh yes it did! Here, I survey my empire.
 

Really though, I wasn’t a fan of the full-on bald look, but once things started to grow in a bit, I got used to it. So my hair has stayed short.


Which brings us to 50. Still forgetting to suck my stomach in for photos, but otherwise, contented enough with life.


Regrets? I’ve had a few. But then again, ah well, I’m out of space.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

2012 - By the Numbers

Days to St. Baldrick’s - 40

Days to MS150 - 121

Number of Days Cycled - 12
Trainer – 5
Mountain Bike - 1
Touring Bike - 6
% of Goal - 12%

Miles Cycled on Touring Bike - 103
% of Goal – 4.1%

Miles Hiked on Colorado Trail - 0

14’ers Climbed - 0

Number of Nights Camped - 1
Caravan - 1
Outdoors -0

Time between 5pm and Sunset – 22 minutes
Time between Sunrise and 8am – (51 minutes)

Days until Spring – 49
Days until Daylight Savings begins - 39

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

A Kojak Moment

OK, so what’s this “Shaving my Head for St. Baldrick’s” thingy that I’ve been on about in my New Year’s Not Resolution posts?

Shaving my head? Sounds like a trip, right? Well, if you’ll forgive me, I’m going to get serious for a bit

The St. Baldrick’s Foundation (www.stbaldricks.org) is a volunteer driven charity that funds research to find cures for childhood cancers. According to their web site, 160,000 children are diagnosed with cancer worldwide each year. One every 3 1/2 minutes. Not only that, Cancer is the number one disease killer of children in the U.S. and Canada.

Now I’ve been blessed in that so far at least, no child I know personally has been stricken with cancer. However, in recent years we’ve had more than enough of it in our family. My Mum was diagnosed with breast cancer but she beat it. Stomach cancer took my Dad in 2010. My father-in-law beat bladder cancer a few years ago but is now fighting prostate cancer.

How messed up is that?

Cancer is a hateful, cowardly disease and frankly, I’m fucking sick of it.

Which is why I have so much admiration for people like The St. Baldrick’s Foundation and the work they do to help efforts to beat it once and for all. If you haven't already, take a look at the web site and see some of their success stories.

Right, I’ll climb off my soapbox now and explain about the head shaving stuff.

Each year, round about St. Patrick’s day, the St. Baldrick’s Foundation coordinates head shaving events at locations around the globe; more than a thousand in 2011. Over 45,000 people (more than 5,000 of them women) volunteered to have their heads shaved allowing the Foundation to award over $21 million in grants to help fight childhood cancer.

One of the volunteers was my mate Robert de Jong and it’s him wot deserves the credit for inspiring me to step up and do the deed this year.

It’s not going to be easy. My head hasn’t been shaved down to the wood since I was about 7 and who knows what we’re going to find under there. Tattoos, shopping lists, old girlfriends' phone numbers, there could be anything. And while they may have more silver highlights than I care to notice, I am somewhat attached to my flowing locks. I mean, I am pretty darned gorgeous.

So what I'm saying is, I’m more than a bit scared.

But what the hey. I've looked like a dork before, I can do it again. And who knows, maybe I'll look badass. (Yeah, right). Still, if me walking round looking like a billiard ball for a few weeks can help some kid with cancer, well then it’s not that big a price to pay now is it?

And if you wanted to help by making a donation, I’d be very, very, very grateful.

www.stbaldricks.org/participants/andrewsmith

Note: I can't get the links to work tonight for some reason, so please just copy and paste.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Giving up already, huh?

Yep, you got me. It’s only January 18 and already my "Stuff to Do in 2012" list (see sidebar on the right) has shrunk from 8 items to 7. "Run a Half Marathon" is already gone.

I thought about deleting it quietly and hoping nobody would notice, but despite evidence to the contrary, I do have some ethics. That and I’ve already talked about it here so there’s a good chance I would get called out on it anyway.

So what happened?

Well, as I wrote a long time ago, in The Loneliness of the Short Distance Runner I’ve had a love-hate relationship with running ever since attempting to take it back up in middle age. I want to run, I really do, it’s just my legs won’t cooperate. Despite many stops, starts, annual resolutions, teeth gritting, new shoes, new training programs, and who knows what else, it seems my old bones just won’t tolerate the pounding any more. No matter how slowly I take it, how long I spend building up a mileage base, the end result is always the same.

It hurts like hell.

I genuinely believed that this time, this time, I had beaten the demon. I’d been running 2-3 times a week, almost every week for about 4 months. My mileage wasn’t high, just 2 to 3 miles at a time, but I was doing it you see. And more importantly, sticking to it.

And then I ran 4 miles. Not exactly an endurance race. I doubt any Ironman contender would have been losing sleep. But it was a big deal to me. 4 miles. That’s longer than I’ve run without stopping since I was in my early twenties. See me? See Boston? Get ready world. Man, was I feeling good about myself.

But then the next time out, a short 2 miler, and it all came crashing down. Every step felt like someone was hitting my legs with a baseball bat. Achilles tendons, calf muscles, knees, hips.

Hurt
Like
Hell

They say you should listen to your body while exercising and mine was using words which would have made a sailor blush. I made it 1 mile. 1 pitiful mile before calling it a day, and sitting down and feeling sorry for myself. And I haven’t been able to pluck up the enthusiasm for trying again.

So reluctantly and for the umpteenth time, I’m admitting that me and running just don’t get on. And the goal to run a half marathon has been shelved.

For now.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Stuff to do in 2012 - Part 2

Picking up where we left off last time, here are the details of my remaining goals for 2012.

4. Ride 2,500 miles on my touring bike.
This one is connected to number 4, but bike specific. When I bought my touring bike in February 2010, I rode the thing every chance I had, no matter the weather. This despite slipping and going down hard on ice during my second time out. And fighting ferocious headwinds for most of the spring. I did a short tour in August and then…never rode the bike for the rest of the year. Not really sure why, I just didn’t.

So, in 2011 I set myself a vague goal of doubling my mileage for the year. Not only did I not double my mileage, I barely equaled it. Again, largely due to a several month layoff for no good reason at all.

Not this year though. 2,500 miles is the target and while I accept this is quite ambitious, I pledge to give it a darn good go. No indoor trainer this time, these all have to be outdoor miles and on one bike.

5. Hike further along the Colorado trail, at least to Breckenridge.
A blast from the past now. This has been on my ‘to do’ list for way too long. I first began the 500 mile long distance footpath known as The Colorado Trail back in June 2007. My plan was to devote a week’s vacation each year and hike it in segments. As I wrote on The Gunsmoke Files at the time, the first week was harder than anything I’ve ever experienced. The altitude gain, the weight of my gear, my general lack of preparation, every step was miserable and I’ve never been more glad to see the end of a hiking trip.

It was May of 2009 before I made it back out for the next leg. I was just planning on doing a short portion, not too far from home, over the course of a long weekend. The first 8 miles were terrific, striding out with a pack that felt weightless and a song in my heart. Then I hit the snow. I floundered around up to my dangly bits for about an hour before admitting that I had no idea where the trail was and it was futile to keep searching. Later, I learned that the pass over which I was attempting to hike wouldn’t be clear for another couple of months.

And here we are, 3 years older and no further along the trail. My vacation time is more or less spoken for already this year, so there’s no room for a long hike. However, I should be able to knock of this particular section in a couple of days.

Once the snow melts.

6. Finally climb a 14’er, dammit!
10 years in April. 10 years. That’s how long I’ve lived in Colorado and I’ve yet to scale one of the 53 mountains over the height of 14,000 feet. That’s 4,267.2 meters for those of you reading in foreign.
There’s a couple where you can drive almost to the top, then walk the last few yards and Dear Wife has hinted more than once that she’d quite like to do that. But no! Before I’ll allow myself to behave like a complete tourist I’m going to climb at least one, all the way to the top. It can even be one of the easy ones. The ones known euphemistically as “Beginner’s 14’ers.” I’ll take that.

But this year, I need to climb one. Once the snow melts and the trail is clear.

7. Camp out for 10 or more nights
Last one, and another which sounds easier than it’s probably going to be. 10 nights in a tent. Or not in a tent, but under the stars, or otherwise out of doors. As I’ve said, the bulk of my vacation time is spoken for, so most of these nights probably need to come on the weekends. Maybe tied in with rides on my touring bike. Or hiking the Colorado Trail. Or just getting out into the woods.

I’ve written before, the ground is a lot harder these days, and my old bones don’t react as well as they used to when it comes to parking them on rocks and tree roots. But I still loves me some camping.

So 10 nights it is.

There we are then, my goals for 2012. Progress to be recorded and reported for your viewing pleasure right here on The Gunsmoke Files.
How about you come with me?

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Stuff to do in 2012 - Part 1

Those of you with memory spans longer than that of goldfishes will recall that I promised to discuss my Goals for 2012. These can be found in a box over to the right side of the screen, along with another marking my progress. But what do they all mean? I’m glad you asked.

1. Shave my head for St. Baldrick’s Day:
My pal DeJo did this last year to raise money for the St. Baldrick’s foundation, (www.stbaldricks.org) a group committed to funding research to find cures for childhood cancers. I found out about it a bit too late to take part, but in a moment of madness, I agreed to keep him company this time out. So, on March 11, my flowing locks will be shorn and I’ll be doing the Kojak thing.

There was a time when baldness was a mark of shame, of ridicule. Now guys shave their heads in order to look badass. Last time I had a crew cut was about age 10 and whatever adjectives came to mind back then, badass wasn’t one of them. It will be interesting to see what’s lurking under there and just how ridiculously dorky I look.

The whole point of the thing is of course, to raise funds for cancer research so you can anticipate thinly veiled attempts at begging for sponsorship as we get nearer the time, with links allowing you to make your donations. Come on, who doesn’t want to see me with a baldy heid? Watch this space.

2. Complete the MS150:
The what? Another charity event, this one’s a 2-day, 150 mile bike ride to benefit the 88,000 people in Colorado and Wyoming affected by Multiple Sclerosis. I’m confident I can ride 75 miles without too much trouble but hauling my sorry carcass out of bed to do it all again the next day…bit more of a challenge.

Again, more details will follow nearer the time and again, you can blame DeJo for this one.

3. Cycle 100 days.
This one falls under the catch all of “Ride my Bike more” and basically means that I’m committing to going for a bike ride 2-3 times a week. Silver touring bike, gray mountain bike, red mountain / dirt road bike, whichever. I’m also including time spent on the indoor bike trainer, so no excuses about the weather. OK? 100 times.

I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted already and I'm not even half way through. Time for another coffee, then we’ll tackle the rest.

Sunday, January 08, 2012

New Year's "Not" Resolutions. Again.

Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, you’ve heard it all before.

“Here are my new year’s resolutions and this time I’m really going to stick to them; I mean it!”

Even, I’m sad to say, on these very pages. I’m very good you see, about setting targets for myself. I get all gung-ho and excited about them. I make spreadsheets to track my progress, and bookmark web sites which will help motivate me, and get books out of the library and all the rest. Setting targets? All over it.

Achieving targets? Eh, not so much.

So why will this year be different? Well, maybe it won’t but I’m banking on the fact that when it comes to the targets I’ve set this year, I really, really, really want to achieve them. That has to help, right?

Plus, 2012 is something of a milestone year for me in that it will mark my 50th circuit around the sun. (Whoever thought I would last this long, eh?) So there's a little extra motivation to get stuff done. Espcially stuff which will help the pretence that there's still some life left in me.

Not only that; instead of calling them resolutions, I’m going to call them goals. See the difference? But there’s more. I have a fiendishly clever master plan.

Look over to the right. No, not that far, just to the right of the screen. See those 2 boxes?

“Stuff to Do in 2012” and…here’s the kicker, “Progress on Stuff to Do.”

So there you go. Out there for the entire WorldWideIntrawebz to see. Or at least my readership, which to my knowledge, currently numbers around 3. 4 if you count me.

But still, there’s accountability right there. If I fail to make adequate progress, you’ll all be free to curl your collective lips and sneer derisively. Which maybe you do upon reading my blog anyway, but at least I’ll have the repetitive nudge of seeing the goals and my progress, or lack thereof, every time I log on to update The Gunsmoke Files.

Of course, if I won’t see them if I don’t log on to update The Gunsmoke Files, but let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.

So, join me next time out, and we’ll take a look at them.

Wednesday, January 04, 2012

So where the hell have you been?

I’ve been right here. Here in our odd little house, tucked away in the foothills of the Rockies. Mostly.

So why haven’t I been writing?

Well, I’ve been traveling on business a fair bit too, and have spent way more time in airport lounges and on planes than I would have chosen to. Nowhere glamorous unfortunately. Since the Asian trip I wrote about back in January 2010?, I’ve been nowhere more exciting than Texas. But I’ve been there more times than I care to count. Oh, and Ohio once. For about 5 hours.

Why Texas? Well, it’s where my company’s Corporate Office is located and as I took a promotion early last year, my presence has been required there on a regular basis. What can I say, they need me. In addition to the travel, promotions tend to lead to a lot more work and less free time, which has made it harder to drum up the enthusiasm for writing. That could of course, be a problem this year too but I’ll play it by ear and do the best I can. Sweet readers, I love you dearly but the pay check will always come first.

There have been health issues too. Not for me, although I’ll admit, that miserable old git, Father Time has been breathing a little heavier over my shoulder recently. Dear Wife though, was taken very seriously ill towards the end of 2009 and that sucked up a good amount of emotional energy. Good news is, she’s recovering well, is looking a lot healthier and is exercising more than she has done in years. Back on the negative side, my Dad succumbed to cancer at the end of 2010 but fortunately I was able to spend a little time with him in the summer. Ma is now in an assisted living place and enjoying life, despite getting dottier by the day. But hey, who isn’t?

We have two new dogs since we last spoke. After The World’s Most Irritating Dog ™ died in January of 2010 we went for six months without a pooch in the house and it were ‘orrible. Later that summer we became an Australian Shepherd household again, adopting

Jasmine from a rescue in Colorado and

Marley from a breeder in Missouri. They now vie for our attention 24 hours a day and the house is covered in dog hair once more. Incidentally, Jasmine is world famous round here, being the poster child on the back of the van used by the local Humane Society. See us? See celebrities?

To combat the hours spent shackled to my desk, I’ve been trying to spend as much time as I can out of doors. To that end, I invested in a new touring bike and some lightweight camping gear (how did my camping stuff get so heavy just sitting in the shed for years?) and have been doing my best to rack up the miles. Colorado isn’t an ideal place to get into shape, given that there are no ‘easy’ hills. Everything is up, and up, and up and when you’re starting at a mile and half above sea level, there isn’t a whole lot of oxygen to begin with. Nonetheless, on my last trip at the beginning of June, I was able to ride up hills that my car would struggle to drive so that’s encouraging.



I’ve also started going to the Colorado Rapids football games (real football, not American football). Major League Soccer is on a par with, I would say, the English First Division, so the quality isn’t exactly top rate. And the Rapids tend to be frustratingly inconsistent but when they’re on form, can put together some quite impressive football. Last year they surprised everyone, including I think, themselves, when they came into form towards the end of the season and went all the way through the playoffs to win the championship for the first time in their history. They didn’t come close to repeating that this year, although in their defense, they’ve had a lot of problems with injuries to key players.

We also took another step towards old age by buying ourselves a caravan (camping trailer) this year. I’ve been hankering after one for a while following a series camping trips where the weather has been almost comically bad. When the two of us go together, we take books and iPods and all the paraphernalia but with the big Five-Oh lurking around the corner, lying on the ground for days at a time has lost some of its appeal. The idea of sitting at a table to read and being able to stand up to get dressed is sounding more attractive with each passing year. Like me, the caravan is old and temperamental and it’s so small that truly, it’s little more than a hard sided tent. However, we’ve had a couple of trips in it already and love the thing.



So that’s about it. That’s where I’ve been for the last 24 months. The Cliff’s Notes version at least. But look at this…a whole new year on the calendar with a world of opportunities and adventures to be had.

Want to come along?

Sunday, January 01, 2012

You call yourself a Blogger?

Seriously? 11 updates in the last 2 years? And you call yourself a Blogger?

No, I don’t. Not really.

I can’t say I’ve called myself a Blogger for quite some time now. Work, health, life and yes, death have all thrown up obstacles to my maintaining The Gunsmoke Files over the last couple of years. That and a general lack of enthusiasm on my part. Mostly the last one.

But in my defense, does anybody even read Blogs these days, much less write them? What with Facebook and Twitter and a kazillion other ways to stay connected 24x7, who takes the time to sit and write anything more than 140 characters on any kind of regular basis? And who wants to read what they have to say? Will I even have a readership, if I start this back up again?

Well, based upon the number of people I’ve spoken to in the last few weeks who’ve asked why I no longer update The Gunsmoke Files, there does appear to be a sizeable audience still out there. OK, maybe not sizeable. Three. Three people have asked me in recent weeks why I no longer update the Gunsmoke Files.

Dammit, my audience needs me!

And so, for you three, and you know who you are, I shall dust off The Gunsmoke Files, and step once more into the role of Your Faithful Correspondent. With regular updates. I promise.

Enjoy.