By John Rezell

      She hiked this trail many times before, enough that she knew where we usually dropped down to the shore for an icy plunge into the Little North Santiam River, or where a stream trickled down the mountainside for a quick drink, not to mention countless othe...

By John Rezell

     It just flashed in my peripheral vision.

     Only for a moment.

     Just an instant.

     But I knew.

     Oh, ...

The first Chanterelle find of the season. Photo by John Rezell

By John Rezell

    There’s a magic to the universe. I’m can feel it.

      Problem is, in my humble opinion, we often overlook, if not downright ignore it. We simply think too muc...

        By John Rezell

      My daughter Sierra stepped into my office and deadpanned that she had something to tell me and something to ask me. Which would I like to hear first?

     Since we’ve been ...

     "It's morning, I wake up, The taste of summer sweetness on my mind ..."

      — Rob Thomas, Streetcorner Symphony

      By John Rezell

      On one of my first gra...

EDITOR'S NOTE: I spent Memorial Day weekend camping in the wild, cut off from news and the Internet. I returned to learn that my childhood hero, Bart Starr, passed away. Here is a rewrite of the blog I wrote almost four years ago when he was about to make one of his last appearances at Lambeau Field.

By John Rezell

      I'm shedding more tha...

       By John Rezell

     Beneath the sea of colorful jerseys hearts beat in a cacophony of rhythms, some chirping at the rate of a hummingbird, others the leisurely pace of a sloth.

      Behind dark sunglasses eyes sparkle with anticipatio...

       By John Rezell

     There's an aura that buzzes around extraordinary people, an electric field you can actually feel in their presence. You need not say a word nor shake a hand, but you feel it deep inside your soul there is something very, very special a...

     By John Rezell

      If you haven't watched it already, listen to Notre Dame women's basketball coach Muffet McGraw talk about women coaching in women's sports. After hearing her take, I couldn't help but think back to my daughters' experiences in sports. Without question, the women wh...

     By John Rezell

     From the moment my first byline story appeared in our high school newspaper, my Grandma Rezell beamed with pride, and each time I saw her after that she'd find the chance to pull me to the side and say, "I've got a great story to tell you one day ..."

     EDITOR'S NOTE: This is the first of a series of Thank You essays to people who have helped make me who I am today.

     By John Rezell

     If you’re really lucky in life, you’ll cross paths with someone who really understands who you are, deep down to your soul. If you’...

By John Rezell

     Cats have been on my mind a lot lately.

     No, I haven't been watching videos online. I've been out riding and hiking. And it appears it's just a matter of time before we cross paths.

     Again.

By John Rezell

     I just heard of the passing of Paul Sherwen. So sad. He was a class act.

     My primary interactions with him were back when he was the Media guy for Motorola as Lance Armstrong rose to prominence. He always managed to get me time with Lance, and was surprised when Lance would give me access other writers weren't privy to.

     My favorite Paul Sherwen story comes from the 1995 CoreStates race ...

Watching the total eclipse in Dallas, Oregon will be remembered forever. Wow.

Linda Brennemann with her son Benjamin on Mount Washington in Pittsburgh, 1995.

EDITOR'S NOTE: As I celebrate the 2nd anniversary of publishing, this excerpt from my book "A More Simple Time: How Cycling Saved My Soul" tells how it all started, when I went to a local race at the Ziggurat in Laguna ...

By John Rezell

It's my brother Jim's birthday! Also the anniversary of the Wright Brothers' first flight.

Not even I can come up with a stretch transition to get to the point of today's news.

Nope. It goes back to Barb, my sister and the oldest of the clan.

As I've worked on my book on the early days of covering bike racing in the US, tentatively titled "A More Simple Time: How Cycling Saved My Soul," I hear Barb's voice in the back ...

By John Rezell

Although I write every day for my job, I've been on a long sabbatical from writing for myself. That feels strange. That has to change.

I've been writing for as long as I can remember. It all began with the desk.

My sister Barb is the oldest of five in the Rezell clan. Must have been around third grade when she married and moved out.

She left behind this magnificent old wooden desk with ornate trim and a dark, varnish f...

By John Rezell

Just before dropping behind a ridge, the early evening sunlight slices through the trees, lighting up the golden bark of a huge Ponderosa pine at Whispering Creek Campground.

Aside from the buzz of an occasional yellow jacket, it's quiet as an empty church. There is not another soul for miles. Quiet enough to hear a trickle of water in the small creek down the ravine just behind my campsite.

On one level, this feels so rig...