Finding Joy in 2014

They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.  -Tom Bodett 

It's easy to get caught up in disappointment this time of year.  The days are too short, the stresses of the holidays can cause pretty big mood swings (the least fun type of swing), and I never got around to making New Year's resolutions last January so how am I supposed to measure my success at living in 2014?  Honestly, there were some let downs this year.  I injured my back skiing on a beautiful day and it's made yoga quite difficult.  I cried for most of Mile 18 during the Ogden Marathon.  I never caught a fish and therefore never found my zen.  I think I might have irreversibly damaged my sanity by doing most of my field work this summer alone.  And the timing and balance between tomatillos, tomatoes, and squash was totally off in my garden.  This year has also been an introspective year, I've spent a good chunk of time figuring out what makes me happy so I can ultimately figure out what I should do with the rest of my life. What follows is a list of the things that brought me joy in 2014, in no sort of order.  If anyone knows what I should do with the rest of my life, based on this list of things, let me know.  For now I'm thinking professional vacationer.

1.  Every time I went trail running, especially the downhill parts.  Usually marathon training kind of sucks; it's all the hard work of a marathon with no one to cheer you on and no finish line ice cream sandwiches.  I learned from past year's efforts to focus on trails as soon as they were clear of snow and it was so amazing.  There were so many moments I felt my heart leap as I rounded a corner and caught sight of the beautiful canyon I was running through or got excited because the next section of trail was hidden in the forest.  I couldn't help thinking over and over, "How lucky am I?  I'm the luckiest person in the world."

How lucky am I?  I live a quick run away from these beautiful places: Green Canyon/Mt Elmer trail, Forest Service road between Lefthand Fork and Righthand Fork, and Millville Face trail.  

2.  Skiing on Becka's Mental Health Half Days.  I thoroughly enjoy skiing with friends and family, but there's something really great about skiing by myself for a few hours.  This year I really got into tree skiing, which is amazing, but the thing that makes me most happy is hitting the gentle slopes about mid-way down the mountain at Beaver (think Lower Harry's after you pass the ski lift or the middle 1/3 of Redtail).  The combination of slope, inertia, and control make me feel like I'm going so fast and skiing so lightly.  Plus the ski season really picked up this year around February, so much amazing powder.



3.  Doing line work on cross stitch projects.  I'm working on a blog post where I admit I love cross stitching and all the reasons why.  For now, let's just say I've picked cross stitch up again after a few years off and my favorite part is the line work.  It's the final part of a project, when you go through and outline all the stuff you've been stitching over the past month to years.  It's very gratifying, even though using a single thread of yarn instead of two makes it so the yarns knots up all the time.

4.  Morning coffee from my white jellyfish mug.  The days I get to drink my coffee at home before going into work are usually not the most productive, but they always start great.  I have my mug there, reminding me of good times in Maryland, my yoga mat unrolled with the intention to actually stretch out on it, and Morning Edition playing on the laptop (because I've actually slept through the live broadcast).  It's a good time to find my center and prepare for the day's to-do list.

5.  Learning the power of the pottery wheel.  Karina talked me into taking a ceramics class this fall and it was great!  I almost quit after the first class because I didn't know what was going on, but I stuck to it and learned to enjoy our teacher's enigmatic suggestions (i.e., mind your rim, you should stop soon).  Once I started thinking about it, it's pretty cool that the wheel turns the pot around and around so in order to make a change to the pot I just need to hold my hands in place and let the wheel do the work.  Focusing on the wheel rather than my issues with adding twists to blocks of clay made the experience more relaxing and rewarding.

6.  Marsh Yoga.  Yoga and field work were both challenging this year.  Yoga was hard because I developed sciatic nerve pain that made all the stretches my hamstring muscles enjoyed hurt my nerves.  Field work was challenging because I was by myself in the sun or rain most of the summer.  I thought I'd really enjoy being alone but it made me feel crazy.  The break in the crazy came when I decided to do a yoga pose at every site (I've got 50 sites) that was representative of each site.  It was fun because of yoga and stimulating because I had to figure out how to make a tripod with the field gear I had.  I also learned why all those stunning yogis wear form fitting clothes in their pictures: waders and other loose fitting clothes make the poses look less magnificent and more awkward.

7.  Starting and summiting King's Peak.  My solitary vacation this year involved hiking King's Peak, the highest peak in Utah, by myself in one day.  Most of it was pretty great, I felt bad ass and strong and amazed at the views of the Uintas.  It's nice to remember that I can do hard things and it's always great to get time in the mountains.

8.  Sibling/nibling together time.  I've got great sibs and one of them had some great kids (the niblings).  I enjoy spending time with all of them.  This year all the siblings got together for super secret Christmas pictures and it was amazing.  Looking at the pictures of them I'm reminded of the qualities I love in each of them and how much fun we have laughing together.  And any time I get to cuddle with Tyler, the only one of the niblings that will sit still for cuddles, lifts my heart for weeks at a time.

9.  Finally catching my breathe trad climbing.  I've finally started getting back into my rock climbing groove after years of being really afraid of lead climbing.  One day, after months of thinking hard about it, I had this moment leading a trad route when I was able to calm my breathe, quit shaking, and finish clipping in the protection I had just placed.  It was a miracle!  Remembering to breathe rather than freaking out that I might spontaneously let go of the rock I'd jammed myself into made the whole climb better and faster and infinitely more enjoyable.  Enjoyable climbing was really what I've been looking for.

10.  Figuring out a 'for' loop in R.  My other secret hobby I've developed this year is statistical programming.  I love that the text changes color when you get it right.  I love that with a few lines of code I can get through a process that would take hours in Excel.  I really love that I can make a little function to do whatever I want and that after 9 months of work I can now make that function run through all the rows and/or columns of my data set with a simple 'for' loop.  I love programming.

Note the lack of red warning messages.  Yay!

11.  Every time I rode my bike uphill, especially all the mountain biking.  It's twisted, but I love riding my bike uphill.  I have these moments when I'm down in my lowest gears, pedaling away, that I feel like my body and mind were meant to be powering a bike uphill.  It's alright on a road bike, but gaining elevation on a single track mountain bike trail can't be beat.

12.  Finishing a leisure reading book.  I've taken up more leisure reading in the past two years and it's the one sit-around activity I never regret.  I love and hate that moment at the end of book where the story is all wrapped up.  It might be what closure feels like.  But there is some pain because it means I need to find something else to read.  Right now I'm partial to books by Tom Clancy and Steph Davis.  And if Tina Fey were to write a second book my quality of life would improve by 30%.

13.  Sitting under my heated blanket by my Christmas tree.  Reading or cross-stitching or just drinking cocoa, it's the best place to be.  I still haven't taken my tree down because I love it so much.  Being able to sit in my living room is closely related to my other favorite winter activity: shrink wrapping my windows so a breeze doesn't come through them.

14.  Vacation planning.   As a life strategy, I generally avoid planning too much, but I love planning the activities for a few days out of town.  I love sitting down with my maps and finding some place I haven't been before that merits a mention on the map.  I love finding the best, most scenic route to a new place.  I enjoy figuring out what watersheds we'll be going to, how many times we'll cross county lines, plotting elevation profiles, etc.  I have big dreams when it comes to vacations and they often come true.  In 2015 I've got plans for the Tetons and my dream bike tour.

That one trip we decided to stop at all the dinosaur-related landmarks we could find on the map.  Amazing.

Well, I've found 14 joyful moments and there are still more I can remember from this year. Clearly, I live a good life. Continuing in no sort of order are other great things that happened this year:

• Scallops 
• Learning to love Canada geese 

• Taking some cool pictures 

• Ragnar with really great people 

• Marshy sunsets 

• Marsh bike 

• 4 wheeling in the Ashley National forest alone with Phyllis 
• Downloading the data from my pressure transducers 

• Winning 3rd place in my duathlon while my friend won first place 

• Ride Around the Wellsvilles V.2 

• Trying to catch a fish, the times my line was not knotted 

• Rides on Brent's new bike

• Boats 

• "Fargo" and "Orange is the New Black"

Ahh.  This year really wasn't a disappointment.  Thanks for being a part of it.  

Type II Fun - Tombstone Butte

I'm really struggling to get back into the swing of things at work.  I finished my field work for the season and feel like taking it easy, but there's still work to do.  There's also a lot of outdoor fun-having to be done in this beautiful autumn weather, which has put me in a bit of a panic.  In an effort to satisfy both of these feelings (need to work, need to play), I've decided to recount a vacation Brent and I took to Moab in April.  The plan was to climb Tombstone Butte and Lost World Butte, soak up the sun, maybe chill out in the hammock.  You know, an easy going rock climbing adventure.  What came about was less easy going, more hiding and suffering, but still fun.  You know, Type II fun.

According to outdoorsy types (i.e. Backcountry.com), there are three types of fun ranging from fun while it's happening and fun to remember (Type I) to miserable while it's happening and miserable to remember (Type III).  Type II fun lies in the middle, miserable while it's happening but good to recall; Type II activities include getting lost, rained out, blown away, or generally beaten by the elements.  Remembering Type II trips usually involves a pretty selective memory, but there are very real rewards like unexpected views or events that you'd never have seen if things had gone according to plan.  Our visit to Tombstone Butte falls into the Type II category, things did not go according to plan and there was some suffering, but no regret and it's been really fun to recall.

The desert southeast of Moab.  

I'd spent the weeks before our trip psyched to go climbing in the Southern Utah sunshine because I hadn't been on a vacation in two very busy months.  I needed a vacation.  I deserved it!  And it started out according to plan - we arrived before midnight, skies were clear and we found a flat area to pitch our tent free of cow poops.  Then we woke up to this view:

I do not like cows.  I believe they signal impending doom.  

Cows!  Thank goodness we decided to sleep on the other side of that fence.  Tombstone Butte lies on BLM land between Green River, Utah and Canyonlands National Park, where there's a bit of grazing and a fair amount of OHV use, but generally very few people.  I love it.  Tombstone Butte is a 300-foot tall, square block of sandstone, thus classified as a butte rather than a tower, but it begs to be climbed just as much as any other free-standing chunk of rock does.  The Rigor Mortis route is particularly eye catching.  Tombstone caught our attention a while back when Brent and I were aiming to climb Lost World Butte, and has been our camping area of choice when we're in that area (good views + free site = best!).  The butte is composed on Endtrada sandstone on top of a pedestal of Chinle sandstone.  I love sandstone, but honestly, this is the worst sandstone.  The size of the sand grains in the rock and the pressure the rock was formed under determine the strength of the rock itself.  While it's not the softest, Entrada sandstone is pretty dang soft and small ledges are prone to crumbling if you look at it wrong.  However, much of the climbing in the Moab area is on Entrada sandstone because it weathers into towers and buttes like this.

Tombstone Butte

The whole thing started out typically Type I.  I dawdled taking pictures while Brent racked up and it only took about 10 minutes to get to the start of the climb.  We did our best Bear Grylls run/jump/getting psyched approach.  Like many towers, the first pitch was a forgettable chimney, dirty and soft, but easily climbable.  Pitch 2 was real Type I stuff - a beautiful, sharp crack that was challenging to lead and fun to follow (and Brent got to the use a piton I got him for Christmas).  

Pitch 2 - Rigor Mortis - Tombstone Butte

I might call our feelings at the bottom of Pitch 3 confident.  We were about 200 feet off the ground, skies were clear, and the crack left to climb was quite striking to look at.  We were ready for the most picturesque and difficult part of the climb.  This is when we entered the Type II zone, delimited by the clear memory of the songs stuck in my head.  The rest of the narrative will follow the lyrics of "We Can't Stop" by Miley Cyrus and "Holy Diver" by Dio because they were stuck in my head and definitely affected the quality of the experience.  Miley lyrics will be in blue, Dio in red.  I highly recommend watching the linked video to "Holy Diver"; you can click the link to listen to the Miley song if you don't know what it sounds like, but having typed out all these lyrics, it already seems like an unfair comparison.  [Note: Brent does not support my knowledge of Miley Cyrus lyrics, if there was any music stuck in his head it was totally bad ass.]

The start of Pitch 3 was clear but difficult to execute as it required some stretching and there was a loose block at the top (and bless his heart, Brent doesn't want to kill me with a falling rock) [It's our party we can do what we want.  It's our party we can say what we want].  The next 30 feet were a huge challenge though.  I've mentioned before that aid climbing is slow (and repetitive, like Miley's lyrics).  Instead of climbing up the wall like you would climb a ladder, using your hands and feet to move you up and leaving protection as you go just in case you fall (i.e., free climbing), aid climbing is more like building a ladder as you go.  Gear is placed in the features of the rock and attached to 'aid ladders' (webbing sewn into steps), the climber moves up by pulling on and stepping up the ladders.  In this way you can climb cracks that are too thin and small to climb using the strength of your hands and feet alone.  Aid climbing can get you to lots of really cool, seemingly un-climbable places, but it requires lots of gear.  Climbing without all the gear you want is decidedly not Type I fun.  

Note the aid ladders and harness full of gear.  

As Brent moved past his first two pieces of gear he found the crack could take a #0.3 Black Diamond Camalot (12.4 - 21.2 mm in width) ('cam') perfectly... and only the #0.3... nothing smaller or larger... for at least another 20 feet.  He could continue to "walk" the #0.3 up the crack, but it would leave an increasingly longer span between himself and his last piece of protection.  [It's our party we can love who we want.]  This simple math, measured by the rope, quickly added up to a huge risk, but with a potential payoff.  A fall, caused by that one #0.3 cam slipping or blowing out of the crack would lead to 1) shocking another tiny cam; or 2) decking on the belay space below.  But if he succeeded the crack might get wider or more narrow and allow him to use rock protection ('gear') of different sizes.  But it might not.   Since he was literally 10 feet above my head we could talk through this dilemma easily, but the answer wasn't easy.  [We can sing what we want.]

Note how far away that bottom cam is, that's the #0.30.  

The question came down to this: is the risk of falling low enough to justify continuing and increasing that risk, given the work we'd already put in and the reward of topping out?  And he asked me what I thought he should do.  Brent almost never needs my help with risk assessment.  I question myself all the time and rely heavily on Brent to help me assess risk, but he's the wiser and more skilled of us.  Because it was his life at risk I just didn't feel like I could make the call.  [But I could sing "Red cups and sweaty bodies everywhere.  Hands in the air like we don't care."]  I was literally no help.  I couldn't see when the crack would change size, but neither could Brent.  I couldn't tell how well that critical cam would hold, but he couldn't tell how long it would be before he could use something else.  We could both see how far away from the deck he was, we both knew how far we'd come and how much we'd like to reach the top...  It was a really tense moment (for me, Brent doesn't seem to remember it this way).  ['Cause we came to have so much fun now.  Bet somebody might get some now.]  I didn't want to tell him to back down because I trusted his skill, but I didn't want to tell him to move up because I didn't want to push him to put himself at more risk than he wanted, so I said the least helpful thing: "I can't help at all with this.  If you move up I'll be really worried and I don't see a way to climb down.  But I won't be upset if you want to bail."  Guess what was happening while I was doing all of this worrying.  Brent was continuing to climb, which continued to change the arithmetic of the situation.  [If you're not ready to go home, can I get a hell no?]

Moving up.

Then something amazing happened: the crack, through eons of erosion, widened enough to begin using more gear, spaced at more reasonable intervals.  But that's not the end of the difficulty.  ['Cause we're gonna go all night, 'till we see sunlight, alright.]  The crack got varied but also really soft.  And it was a really long pitch, ~180 feet.  [So la da di da di.  We like to party.]  And the wind started blowing, and it never stopped.    It was a difficult climb that stayed difficulty.  [Dancing with Molly.  Doing whatever we want.]  Brent spent about three hours climbing the third pitch, mostly out of hearing distance, so I had hours to stand there and think (while also giving a competent belay). [This is our house.  This is our rules.]   I studied my anchors (solid, painted nicely) and my Cinch and wondered if I'd ever read the owners manual (no);  [And we can't stop.  And we won't stop.]  I enjoyed the views and practiced left-handed SLR camera selfies (never take that brake hand off the rope).  [Don't you see it's we who own the night?  Can't you see it's we who 'bout that life?]  During this musing a few people pulled up next to the butte in side-by-side ATVs to watch and, thank the Lord (!), someone was listening to Dio loudly on their stereo.  

The Cinch

The top half of the pitch continued at a regular aid climbing pace (even and slow), but I had a great song to ponder the lyrics of.  [Holy Diver.  You've been down too long in the midnight sea.  Oh what's becoming of me?]  I still don't know what "Holy Diver"is about, but the song structure is more pleasing than that other song I was playing in my brain and the lyrics are more aggressive.  [Ride the tiger, you can see his stripes but you know he's clean.  Oh don't you see what I mean?]  Fact: after this trip "Holy Diver" became my power song when I program because it makes me feel like I can make the computer do what I want.  [Gotta get away.  Holy Diver.]  Anyway, I was enjoying myself there, safe from the breeze in my favorite flannel.  If I played my cards right I could start climbing with my new "Ride the Tiger" mentality.  And then it was my turn to climb.  [Shiny diamonds.  Like the eyes of a cat in the black and blue.  Something is coming for you.]   

The view from the bottom of Pitch 3

The first 30 feet of the route that Brent had struggled with were literally heinous (utterly odious or wicked)!  That lower part of Pitch 3 was a pretty perfect sized crack to jam my fingers in but was too tight for my feet to get any traction on, so I could hang but I couldn't actually move up.  [Race for the morning.  You can hide in the sun 'till you see the light.  Oh we will pray it's all right.]  It was a mess to belay.  Brent was more than 150 feet away and the wind was blowing, but that didn't stop me from yelling "Pull the rope!" every time I thought I'd lifted my hips enough for there to be slack in the rope.  [Gotta get away.]  Even though there wasn't any rope to take in and it is difficult to winch someone up on a top belay, Brent gave it a shot. Brent told me I could aid off that critical #0.3 cam, but he'd used it for that full 30 foot stretch so it was too far above my head to reach and I didn't have any other gear to use.  [Between the velvet lies, there's a truth that's hard as steel.  The vision never dies.  Life's never ending wheel.]  I'm still not sure how I got up that section of rock (Brent probably pulled me up), but once I got my hands on that #0.3 cam and rested I was back to singing "La da di da di, We like to party." 

Brent at the top of Tombstone Butte

Most of the following 150 feet were perplexing but alright.  It took a lot of work to pull out the cams and stoppers that had been bounce tested.  There was lots of pulling and pushing and a good deal of tapping on gear, plus some strained prying with the nut tool.  [And we can't stop.  And we won't stop.]  The beautiful, brand new pink Tricam would not come out, even though I spent enough time on it that Brent had to question what I was doing.  Then it got torturous again: the crack widened and became more shallow.  [We run things, things don't run we.  Don't take nothing from nobody.  Yeah, yeah.]  It seems that at this particular section, about 50 feet from the top, a block of the cliff face had come off recently enough that the exposed rock didn't have any sort of hardened varnish, so it was just sand (read: NOT sandstone).  Everything I pushed and pulled on blew away because it was just sand.  [It's our party we can do what we want.  It's our party we can say what we want.]  How in the world had Brent protected this?  [Holy Diver.  You're the star of the masquerade.  No need to look so afraid.]

At this point in my complaining I must make a ridiculous confession: sandstone formations often look like genitals to me.  The towers make sense, descriptions of those often include the word "phallic"; but the cracks or canyon walls that are shaped like ovals with pointed tops and/or bottoms look like lady parts to me.  Thus, as I pushed my way up through this section I couldn't help but think that that must be what it looks like and feels like to be birthed as an adult.  [It's our party we can love who we want.  We can kiss who we want.  We can sing what we want.]  It felt just as silly and un-graceful as that admission sounds.  Once I got through this final difficulty I could see and hear Brent again, yay! [To my home girls here with the big butt.  Shaking it like we at a strip club.]   

Pitch 3

Getting to the top of things is usually a reason to celebrate, and it was nice to sit and catch my breathe, but it was actually quite unpleasant at the top.  It had taken me an hour to follow up the final pitch, and while I was bruising myself on the rock Brent felt like he was being punched in the back of the head by the wind.  [Remember only God can judge ya.  Forget the haters, 'cause somebody loves ya.]  On other towers we've explored the top a bit, looked for a summit register, and stretched a little before climbing down; none of that was happening there.  More than being unpleasant, the wind made exploring without a rope less safe and neither of us was interested in more wind or belaying.  [We all so turnt up here.  Getting turned up, yeah, yeah, yeahhh.]  

The top

Our choice to rappel immediately wasn't as easy as it would seem tough, because the bolts supporting the ropes we rappelled on weren't great, they weren't even OK.  All that wind (which is always stronger at the top of things than the bottom) and the soft, sandy sandstone made it so the rock the bolts were embedded in was literally blowing away.  Given time to think through things calmy we'd have probably searched for another set of anchors rumored to exist, but that didn't seem like a reasonable option.  [So la da di da di.  We like to party.]  So we rappelled very carefully, trying to keep an even speed and not bounce on the rope.  I wish I could say this was the first time we'd been left with this choice.  We arrived at the ground safely though.  

Of course there was one last selfie before we rappelled to our potential deaths

Once we were back safely on the ground you'd think the Type II fun would transition back to Type I, but it didn't.  That night a storm blew in, making climbing the next morning a no-go.  Not one to say 'quit' after driving for 6 hours to enjoy the desert, I decided to go to Canyonlands National Park for some sight seeing.  I'd never been to that park before and was definitely pleased with the views.  As an added bonus, we spent most of the day in the car with the radio, successfully dodging the stuck song issue.  

Upon returning home I looked at the Mountain Project description of the route and the first sentence stood out more clearly than on the first reading:  "Some interesting situations."  We were definitely faced with some interesting situations, even if the lyrics in my head were kind of inane.  Good times. 

Do What You Want and Be Nice About It

Today is the day we celebrate my brother's birthday, so it's an appropriate time to acknowledge just how blessed my life has been because of both of my brothers.  I've acknowledged how great my parents are and all three of my sisters, but a little brotherly love has been lacking.  My brothers, Scott and Ryan, are really, really great and as I thought about what exactly was so great about them I stumbled on some lessons I've learned from the way they've chosen to live their lives.  This seemed easier than picking illustrative stories, because my brothers are trouble makers of legendary status, so I couldn't pick just one or two episodes in two lifetimes of hilarity.  Scott and Ryan are certainly different characters, but being the only  boys in the family sandwiched between older and younger sisters, they tend to react to things in a similar way (which I've read is a habit of middle children) so I'm sandwiching them together for this celebratory post.  Scott and Ryan are some of the happiest guys I know and I always look forward to hanging out with them because they bring a lot of happiness with them.

1.  Do what you want.  
"I do what I want" is a common refrain in my family's home, and it seems most appropriate for my little brothers who do what they want through a mixture of poor impulse control, mischief, and nerd-level curiosity.  And they seem to be pretty happy guys because of it.  I could ramble on for days with stories of Scott and Ryan doing whatever they want (throwing rocks, spraying Windex at people, making stop-motion Lego movies) because its been a pattern in their lives.  If you ever run into my dad, ask him to tell you some of the stories about my brothers he's written down in the journal of embarrassing stories he keeps, you won't regret it.

Sometimes they just want to wear cereal boxes and forks while shouting "Decepticons."  I don't get it, but I love it.  

Sometimes they want to build sandcastles

And sometimes they want to play video games

2.  Be nice to people and good people will stick around you.
Ask anyone who's met my either of my brothers and they'll tell you that Scott and Ryan are the sweetest people you will ever meet.  It's the absolute truth.  I think karma has finally started working in their favor after decades of being great to everyone.  The long term friendships I've watched my brothers cultivate (I can't tell if it's too much disclosure to mention by name the "other men" in their lives (OK, I'm thinking specifically of Vince and Zach)) just warms my heart and I think the relationships bring joy to those involved.  Even better, my family has been blessed because these two guys have snagged spouses that are also great, so now I have two more sisters that I really like a lot.  Those lucky ladies really snagged themselves a couple of sweethearts.

Scott and Stephanie - 2011

Ryan and Brittney - 2014

3.  Wander until you find the right path for you.  
Scott and Ryan both have lots of stories about the times they've wandered away from my parents.  Scott got lost in Ogden City Mall looking for a comfortable place to nap, Ryan was found wandering the streets of Clearfield blocks away my folk's place.  Neither was running away, just wandering some place because they were curious.  This habit of meandering somewhere unexpected seems to be life plan for both of them, but it's worked out well, as far as I can tell.  I don't even know how many times Scott has declared a major in his academic journey or how many different jobs Ryan has had before he settled on the one's he in now, but they both seem to be doing remarkably well after years of experimentation.  And both have chosen interests that I never would have guessed intrigued them when they graduated high school.  Even if it comes after a few years of uncertainty, finding a career that feels right sure looks like it will be worth it.  And they're both pretty young, so it could all change again.

The whole engineering - computer programming course these guys have taken sometimes makes all the sense in the world, in hindsight.  

Scott near the beginning of his academic journey

Ryan near the beginning of that same journey

4.  Wear a helmet.  
My brothers are the most accident prone people I know.  Just last winter Scott actually cracked his helmet going over his bike handlebars on his way home from work.  Ryan spent most of childhood with some sort of wound due to crashing a bike or a dump truck.  I'm doing a bit of mind-reading here, because I haven't asked them about their feelings on bikes in quite some time, but I imagine they riding because it's super fun and maybe an accident here and there is worth it if you're having fun.  The thing I know for sure is that they're still with us because they started wearing helmets on their noggins before the really serious crashing began.  I also know that whenever I hear Queen's "Bicycle" I think of Ryan.  So always have fun, but through in a little common sense protection in when possible.

Ryan throwing rocks with broken arm

Scott also throwing rocks

So there you have it, do what you want but be nice about it and wear a helmet on your meandering journey. Love you Scott and Ryan!