Why Still Rolling Outdoors

Still Rolling Outdoors exists because life didn't stop when my body became unreliable.

Some days begin in pain. Some don't begin at all. Capacity changes without warning, and plans rarely survive contact with reality. That's the terrain this work comes from.

I hike because I have to — to manage symptoms, steady my nervous system, and stay in conversation with a body that doesn't always cooperate. I fish to unplug. I ride to remember I'm alive. Somewhere between need and pleasure, deeper layers rise: grief, anger, memory arriving as sensation rather than story.

I spend time outside because it's one of the few places where life can be met honestly... Without performance or pretending things are easier than they are. The trail never asked me to be strong. Just present. Sometimes that means standing still and listening. Other times it means walking until rhythm returns, riding quiet roads, or sitting beside a creek doing nothing but existing.

This isn't about overcoming illness or turning struggle into inspiration. It's about staying engaged with life inside real limits — choosing motion when stillness feels like death, and stillness when motion feels impossible. Choosing aliveness without guarantees, and meaning without spectacle. Some days are slow. Some days cover miles. Some days take everything just to begin. All of them count.

This work comes from moments when I didn't know how to keep living, but showed up anyway. Still Rolling Outdoors wasn't built from ambition. It was built from necessity.

Go at your own pace. You're still rolling.

If you want to know how this archive came to be → The Story Behind SRO