Tools of the Trade

Still life with frame and chain.

Twenty-some years old, and still going strong.
The only thing she lacks is a granny gear.

As my post-marathon recovery enters its third week, the imminent conclusion of the academic year, the arrival of warmer weather, and the coming Memorial Day weekend have renewed my enthusiasm and ambition in the realms of fitness, recreation, and exploration. Two Fridays ago, after a slightly early finish at work, I claimed a section of the driveway for the joyful toil involved in disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling the road bike I was given by a family friend when I was in high school. Despite a lack of professional knowledge and a dearth of equipment pertient to bicycle maintenance, I still took great pride in getting reacquainted with the bicycle's components, as well as the elegant design and sound craftsmanship involved in this light yet powerful machine. Since then, I've put 35 miles on it, and I'm pretty sure that its gears are in better shape than my legs, at least for now. In any event, I've been enthralled by the synergy between the Trek's whirring wheels and my body's cycling heart– both creating something much more than the sum of their parts.

Ready for another season of New England summits.

Lest I spend too much time on the pavement between cycling and running this summer, I've made a list of mountains to climb and trails to explore. Wasting no time, this Memorial Day weekend is booked with plans for two separate trips. First, a two-summit day hike in New Hampshire with a group of friends that should see one of them successfully conclude an effort to climb each of that state's 4,000-foot peaks (all 48 of them). The next day, a long journey to northern Vermont with a good Jesuit friend to successfully complete a bucket list item of my own: reaching the highest point in each of the six New England states. [Stay tuned for a retrospective entry on this particular endeavor.] These boots (made for hiking) have seen many adventures, and I'm eager to stick my feet in them for many more miles of backcountry trails and rock scrambles above treeline during the months ahead.

Every good adventure deserves a break along the way.

One of the books that I read last year, Matthew Crawford's Shop Class as Soulcraft, explored the relationships between people and machines, and the effects of a technological age on the ability to understand and manipulate the workings of the tools that we use. Crawford expresses concerns about making items so "user-friendly" that the user no longer has direct control over them; he cites automatic faucets in public restrooms as a key example. While I happily leave skilled work on my community's vehicle fleet to the experts, I do find a measure of satisfaction in being adept at checking and replacing certain fluids, changing tires, and handling similar minor issues in order to keep a Prius like the one above running smoothly.

Crawford Notch, NH

My summer adventures into New England's splendid and varied natural scenery will certainly entail keeping myself in shape. Yet they'll also involve the use of some tools whose utility, craft, and intricacy impress me anew. From hybrid drivetrains to rugged bike chains, from boots to Birkenstocks (a delightfully soothing reward for my feet after a day of running, hiking, and/or cycling), fresh appreciation of the items that bear me into the wilderness is laying the groundwork for savoring the places to which I'll travel, and the people with whom I'll soon share those journeys.