I’m moving into a new house this week and, like anyone who’s ever moved, am purging of excess stuff. In truth, I actually don’t own much, but it’s enough that moving requires a few trips between houses. For once, though, I’m not embarrassed about having stuff. It’s good stuff.
Yesterday, I smiled with satisfaction after filling my station wagon with gear: a bike plus bike tools and parts, a SUP, a paddle, tennis rackets, backpacks, snow gear, running and hiking and climbing shoes, sleeping bags, helmets, you get the idea—an entire load of toys.
Of the two extra bags in the front seat, one held wine, whiskey, and gin (continuing the car-full-of-toys theme). The other held water bottles and thermoses. It seemed ridiculous to move so many when using them all at once is impossible. At the new house, I crammed them all in a giant drawer that’s now so full I won’t be able to add any to my collection.
Why so hesitant to ditch a few? Because each is connected with a memory or meaningful event. Sure, the memory won’t disappear with the bottle, but the bottle is a concrete reminder of the event. Some examples:
The Santa Fe Century water bottle with a red top and Native American pottery designs on the side reminds me of my first ever century ride. I was staying in one Friday night when my phone rang at 9 p.m. “Jenn,” said my buddy Wade, who was with the friend I count as my big brother, “you’re camping with us in Santa Fe tonight and riding the century there tomorrow. Be ready in 20 minutes. We’ll pick you up.” I rode every one of those 105 miles (yes, there were a couple extra)—even Heartbreak Hill, which many people walked up—with a smile on my face. At mile 67, I bonked but instantly perked up thanks to a pouch of Honey Stinger chews, a gift from another of the guys in our group.
The blue and orange argyle bottle, my dad gave me a couple years ago after Garmin’s development team stayed in his hotel during a training camp. It says 100% Clean, or something like that, on one side. On my way to a hut last winter, I noticed one just like it on the side of the trail and thought “How ironic!” This 100% clean bottle was dirtying up the forest.
I carried the black and red VeloNews bottle around with me on campus after earning it as a collegiate race reporter while in school. No one in my journalism classes had ever heard of VeloNews, but I nevertheless used it proudly.
Sport Systems was my go-to outdoor shop in Albuquerque, and the water bottle with Sport Systems’ logo reminds me of my home state. I felt so dialed into New Mexico’s cycling and multisport communities, and coming to the big bad world of Colorado outdoors people overwhelms me sometimes. So I cling to this bottle like a security blankie. Only, I don’t know of anyone else who won a security blankie in a post-triathlon raffle.
The Fox Racing Shox bottle helped quench my thirst at Bike Press Camp in Deer Valley this summer. While feeling the differences between their old and updated forks, I noticed I was parched and had misplaced my water bottle. Jim, the friendly guy educating me on mountain bike shocks, filled this bottle with much-needed H2O and handed it over.
I picked up a Stanley travel mug at Outdoor Retailer this summer and meant to give it to a friend but used it instead of a disposable cup during an interview with Anna Cummins of the 5 Gyres Institute (see page 32). I forgot to screw on the lid and ended up splashing coffee on my shirt. We rescheduled the interview so I could go back to my hotel and change. I ended up keeping the mug, because it’s actually pretty handy when the lid is screwed on properly.
When I went downhill mountain biking at Northstar at Tahoe, I opted for water bottles instead of a hydration pack, and these two Giant for Women water bottles were convenient from a local bike shop.
The list of water bottles and stories continues with stainless steel bottles included in Teva Mountain Games race packets, the red mug that came free with a cup of joe, a Purist by Specialized bottle I’ve favored since the Specialized launch and tri clinic for women last fall, the Cambelback Podium bottle embellished with a Limelight Lodge logo from a recent trip to Aspen, an elegant glass bottle that deceived me when I meant to buy sparkling water but got still in a fancy package, and an old Nalgene I’ve been beating up for ages but haven’t given up using.
Each silly bottle or mug is connected with a cherished experience. So, just as I wouldn’t change those parts of my life, I won’t throw out this stuff. It’s good stuff. I’ll store these bottles and the memories that go with them in my bottom drawer—for safe keeping.
