The Dudes

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These guys are awful.

In the archaic sense that they continuously fill me with awe. I'm still not sure what binds us so stubbornly: an opinion about cycling? An interest in tech? A love for videogames or boardgames? Maybe it's the urge to challenge ourselves in the outdoors. Or maybe it's the collective process of deconstructing what we want and who we are.

But it's also a sense of devoted care for one another. These guys have been the Wilhelm scream to my adventures, my struggles, and my delights. We've shared meals and jackets and beds and tents and emergency helicopter rides and bad advice and most of all, bicycles.

The hopes of finding something to capture all that failed long ago and we've since adopted the title "The Dudes" – genius, I know. But by no means is this fellowship organized beyond a name: there isn't even a weather warning when philosophical discussions switch to poop emojis and vice versa.

I love these guys and I love their banter. I get lost in it and it becomes a long song of "remember when"s and outrageous jokes and "let me look that up in the rulebook." Aneel's mosaic stories flourished with Spanish drinks and phrases. Tony's fits of laughter, a few decibels too loud, that enlivens the entire room. Kenya's generosity of compliments bound to stop anyone in their tracks to make sure they feel heard and appreciated. Josh's questions that water the mind and his constant tug between trolling and story telling. Brandon's weaving of bold punchlines and staunch integrity in every conversation.

Thanks for always having my back. Thanks for always.