I had a deep-seated addiction to adventure racing. I was part of a French race in Costa Rica in '91, and after this, for some reason, decided to mould my future life in this direction, and redirect my career to accomodate it. This went on for years.
At one point, I simply needed a job where I could get a full-day workout as part of what I did during the week. As you all know, tree work fits that bill perfectly.
I answered an add in the paper for a tree climber, B.S.'d my way into getting hired, and enjoyed long days, running across front yards shouldering piles of brush, or dragging big limbs, stacking them onto the back of a flatbed truck. People used to ask me if I was on amphetamines.
A couple years and a number of races later, I had to choose between adventure racing, or my relationship with Elizabeth. I chose Elizabeth. I had to ask, "But what about my working as a treeguy?" (which I'd really come to love).
"I would be proud if you were a treeguy."
That, gentlemen, was the hinging moment, over a decade ago. Still got the girl, still got the job. Now you're stuck with me.