I had a partially written blog entry from about a week ago. Basically the content of it was me whining about things far and wide, from the media coverage of Michael Phelps (don't ask, I was annoyed by the coverage of his eating habits) to the fascination with sports that most people only care about every four years unless you are a participant in said sports, know someone who is or have a kiddie in the development leagues of baseball, basketball, table tennis, etc.
For something entirely different, I had a pretty challenging and emotional ride today, riding from my doorstep in Idaho Springs up to the peak of Mt. Evans. If you've ever lived in Colorado, one of the first questions you may get asked from a new friend or acquaintance is something along the lines of, "how many 14'ers have you climbed?" I've always been exasperbated by this question. First of all, I don't climb. Never have and likely never will. I love the earth and the gravity that keeps me (usually) firmly attached to it. I cringe at the thought of a climbing rescue at work, though my paycheck reminds me that courage sometimes comes with a dollar sign attached to it.
So...I climbed my first 14'er today. Climbed it on my damn bike of course! The ride was pretty sweet, though my knees were definitely not liking the torque and tug of 5500 feet of climbing stretched out over 25 miles from my house. I really feel like I do my best "work" at altitude, as I feel stronger and more lucid the higher the elevation. The alpine environment is my friend, even though it may not be a tree's friend. As I climbed today I imagined myself in the Tour de France climbing Mt. Ventoux or some such thing. The weather up above the tree line was great, as long as you were headed up hill. About a week ago we got some snow up here and up along the road to Mt. Evans there was about a foot of the wet white stuff on the shoulder. Gawkers were stopped along the way to see some funky white sheepy looking things and some other random creatures having a meal at altitude.
The last mile or so of the ride up to the summit was pretty gnarly, filled with very narrow roads and a bunch of switchbacks. Coming down was pretty dang cold, but every foot descended seemed to add a degree of warmth.
I'm back at home licking my wounds or fatigue from the ride, but actually feel pretty awesome. I totally amaze myself sometimes and today's ride was one of those times. WTF? I'm that sick kid that couldn't finish the run in gym class and now I'm climbing a "classic Colorado 14'er."
Now if someone out here asks me how many 14'ers I've climbed, I'll just tell them to shut up and ride that thing...
TC
