I touched down in good ‘ole Missourah this afternoon…my home state. Born and raised. I’m sitting in a hotel room in St. Louis with my wife and kids, waiting for my good buddy to show up and hang out. I can’t help feel a sense of nostalgia when I come back here. I don’t make it back very often…every few years. But, when I do, I always miss the Ozarks. The leaves are 2 weeks past peak fall colors, but still half on the trees and colorful—enough to appreciate just the same. The friendly people, the diversity—the good old friendly folks. The weather is supposed to be perfect this week. 60s and sunny. Perfect weather to run a 100 miles of Ozark singletrack in hillbilly land. I can’t wait. Giddyup!
