The parents in Juneau

Date: June 12 and 14
Mileage: 12.1 and 17.1
June mileage: 372.6

My parents flew up from Salt Lake City for a few days. This is the first time they've visited Juneau. They weather's been blah and I've already dragged my mom on more hikes than I think she would prefer, but the Alaska bug has burrowed in. She seems genuinely excited for the next day's adventures, even if the shopping is somewhat sub par ("How many Glacier Soap stores are there?")

My dad caught his first king salmon, a 25-pound, 34-inch monster. Later we trekked up Mount Roberts; Mom motored the whole way up, and didn't even complain when the hot chocolate stand at the Tramway was closed. Later we had the most delicious, melt-in-your mouth salmon dinner. Nice to have someone in the house who can cook, again.

Mom thought Pugsley was a riot, and Dad and I went on eBay and searched for his first non-motorized bike in what must be decades. He bought a nice, steel-framed Trek 820, perfecting for commuting and long jaunts around the Salt Lake Valley. I'm working on turning my parents into Alaskans, but first I'm going to turn them into cyclists.

I am not my job

Date: June 10 and 11
Mileage: 12.1 and 42.7
June mileage: 343.4
Temperature: 51 and 55

It's been a rough couple of months at my place of employment. And, like the stock market and oil speculation, things just keep getting bleaker. Today the Powers That Be pulled us all into the conference room. Being gathered as a group is never a good thing these days, and everyone in the room sat in shadowed silence, braced for bad news.

The latest cut is our retirement benefits. Indefinitely. There was wide-eyed shock before the protests began. "Human capital is all you have." "We are this industry." "Our attrition rate is at an all-time high right now. Those of us who remain are already weighted beyond capacity and hanging on by threads. We live in one of the highest cost-of-living cities in the U.S., and now you're giving us one less reason to stay?"

The PTB just leaned back in his chair, himself just a messenger of the Corporate Overlords. He nodded in empathy and didn't really have to say it. The economy is tanking. Our industry is dying. What are you going to do?

I don't know. I guess I'll just keep riding my bike.

Tracking Geoff

Date: June 9
Mileage: 41.1
June mileage: 288.6
Temperature: 46

I had to take a day off yesterday because I was so sore from my silly little mud run. It was a good thing because I got a lot of cleaning done - once I freed my hip flexors from their overnight seize-up enough to walk, that is. But I was still disappointed. I've reached a point where I can go for 10-hour mountain bike rides and not even feel lethargic the next day, but I can't run four measly miles. Just when I thought I was in pretty good shape ... I'm not.

This is the part where experts recommend cross-training. I think that's an excellent idea. After the mud run, I browsed the Southeast Road Runners' Web site and found a few more races I'm interested in: A late-July mountain run, a five-mile hill climb and a possible road 10K (not because I'm crazy about the idea of a road 10K; I'm just curious how long it would take me to run that far. I'm guessing 9-minute miles multiplied by six.) I am interested in joining more organized events this summer, but the bicycle club's schedules rarely work for me. The only mountain bike race is a three-day series with individual races that are discouragingly short (What do you even do in a three-mile race? Red-line until it's over?) Plus, the running crowd seems cool. Whether I actually motivate to train on my feet remains to be seen.

Meanwhile, I am spending my time virtual-stalking Geoff, who left Salt Lake on Friday for his pre-GDR bicycle tour north. Geoff has a satellite tracker. After mild panic made the family rounds during my Iditarod debacle (where, unbeknown to me, I went missing for anywhere from 24 to 48 hours), Geoff's mom bought him the SPOT receiver and threatened him with future panic if he didn't carry it along the Continental Divide. Now, all he has to do is push a button and his exact latitude and longitude point is broadcast on his very own tracking site. I have been watching him wend his way through central Idaho and imagining the spaces - the Salmon River valley, the snow-capped Sawtooth Mountains, the places I never visited enough when I lived there myself. Every time I hear from him and listen to his daily misadventures, listen to him rattle off a litany of mileage, wind and weather statistics, I'm reminded of the way bike touring can so easily descend from adventure to lifestyle to career. Geoff's in career mode right now, and he has a particularly tough job ahead of him. I really don't envy that job with the mindspace I'm in: flighty, unfocused, thinking about becoming a runner ... But I do check up on him a little more than is probably normal. Maybe it's because I really do want to be a part of the grand adventure. Or maybe because this is what our relationship has come to ... upside-down teardrop icons on a Google map.