Half Empty

I've never wanted to be that guy. The one who can rain on every parade, who can find the cloud that comes with every silver lining, who always sees the glass as half empty. And I'm sure that anyone who knows me well will attest that, ordinarily, I am not. "He has a sunny disposition," they'll say. "He's so pleasant to be around. A real joy. Look up 'good natured' in the dictionary, and you'll see his picture." It's true. Ask my mother. She'll tell you.

But even I have my limits. Lately, I've had quite enough. My patience has run out. I'm up to "here" (please imagine me waving my hand somewhere above my eyeballs). Consider the following image (captured from weather.com a few minutes ago) and I'm sure my problem will be obvious:

That's right. Another week of 65+ degree temperatures in Denver. I think they forgot about winter here because it seems that's all we've been having here for the last two months. And I, for one, am sick and tired of it.

For one thing, there's the skiing--or lack of skiing. Yes, there is still snow in the mountains.* But nothing that makes a ski snob like me want to drive an hour. So, not knowing what else to do with myself on a Monday, I've been forced to ride my bike and to endure sights like this:

Can you see why I've reached my limit?

And that's just the beginning. Because do you know how hard it is to dress for a bike ride on a sunny 65 degree day? Shorts or knickers (yes, I sometimes where "knickers")? Short sleeves or light jacket? Or would short sleeves and a vest be best? And do I need sunscreen? (Don't even get me started on sunscreen. I mean, sunscreen? In March? Seriously?!)

Of course, those things are merely scratching the surface. The real problem is much more fundamental. The real problem is that that I feel compelled to ride my bike in the first place. In my experience, bikes are not meant to be ridden from, say early October to early March. That's the time for packing on a few winter pounds, maybe catching up on some reading. And that's the way I prefer it.

Take today, for example. What I really wanted to do with my Sunday afternoon was sit around in my comfy chair and read my book until I fell asleep. Maybe eat a plate of nachos and an Oreo or seven. But could I do that? Noooooo. That's the kind of thing one does when its twenty-five degrees, overcast, and drizzling (like it probably was in Michigan, or Western New York today). You can't do that when it's 65 degrees in March. They have a word for that: "Sin." So I had to skip my nap. I had to go for a ride.

And what's worse--I'll probably have to tomorrow, too. Oh, the things we endure.

*At least in some places. A couple of weeks ago Jill and I attempted to snowshoe @ 11,000 feet and had to carry our snowshoes. Every once and a while we'd see a little patch or two and strap them on out of principle, but it really wasn't what we had hoped for.

Double Ought Nine

I'm not usually one to make New Year's resolutions. At least not out loud. But since I already resolved to post more on my blog this year, I thought a resolutions post would do well to fill some space.

Or maybe not resolutions, exactly. Resolutions sound so serious. Sin less, pray more, eat less ice-cream, stop wasting time on the Internet--that sort of thing.* Those serious things have their place and I do aspire to them, but I won't include them here since they violate the rather not-so-serious nature of this blog. So let's just say the things listed here are "aspirations"--at most--for the year.

• Bike more miles than last year. I won't say what I'm gunning for since some people (especially those who don't regularly bike) will undoubtedly find it a little obscene and wonder why I'm not using my time to do something more useful (like read to my son, or wash my car, or plant a garden, I suppose) --but I do have a number in mind. I also have an event in mind. I've once again shelled out the big bucks so I can suffer through the Triple Bypass.
• The sub-aspiration that goes along with the Triple Bypass is to get that nice skinny/bobble-headed biker looking going for me so that I can be faster and stronger--but I know that probably won't happen. But even so, I could probably stand to cut down on how many trips I make down the hall to the secretary's candy dish. I'd like to say one a day. But two sounds more reasonable.
• I'd also like to ride my bike more with other people. I rode alone way too much this year and discovered that I'm really not that good of company. I'm hoping to get a weekly tandem ride in with Jill and also to take a day to pull Adrian to the park in his bike trailer (I will be sorely disappointed if he doesn't like his bike trailer). If things go my way, I'd also like to find some fellas to MTB with most weeks (CL--are you listening?).
• Learn to like running. No, I'm not going to run a marathon this year. I pushed things a little too hard last month after spouting off my mouth here and ended up with very sore knees and ankles for about three weeks. More proof that I'm not a kid any more, I guess. But even so, I'd like to work a light jog (or lope) into my weekly exercise schedule.
• Grow a beard. Or at least try. I'll have to see if I can arrange a few weeks away from work so that I can pull it off, but I'm thinking that since my body is no longer putting much energy into growing hair on top of my head, it might have something extra to put into my face. Or maybe that's all going to my nose, ears, and eyebrows. Time will tell.
• Read a classic (or two). Maybe it's finally time to check "Crime and Punishment" off the list.
• Sweep the floors. Someday, I'll have to post on all the things that make me a lousy husband--my regular failure to sweep the floors would have to be on the list. I really hope to rectify that this year.
• Keep a budget. We kind of do this--but I want to be serious about it this year. Get software. Balance the check book. Refrain from buying something that's not in the budget or get stressed when we don't. The works.
• Call my grandmas more.
• Get a news magazine (Newsweek? Time? Any recommendations?) and read it regularly. I know next to nothing about what is going on in the world these days and am tired of faking it.
• Go to a play. I like Shakespeare--and I'm not just saying that. I think it's time to check out another production of the Bard's work. Then I can quote him in sermons and people will think I'm both up to date on current events and cultured. Won't I be impressive?
• Floss. I won't say daily (let's be reasonable here!). But enough so that my dental hygienist doesn't scold me after my next appointment. I just can't stand her scorn any longer.
• Drink less coffee more. What's reasonable? Seven, eight cups a day?
• Find a babysitter we can trust (and not feel guilty about asking). Use this babysitter to go on occasional non-church related dates with my wife.
• Go camping more than last year. That means go camping some. And even if we don't camp, spend more Mondays (my day off) in the mountains with Jill and Adrian. One of those Mondays, I'd like to climb another 14er.

That's probably more than enough--any more and I'll start to sound like Ben Franklin. And besides, there's coffee brewing here that needs drinking, apple crisp that needs eating.

I'll report back in ought ten and see how I did.

*(Good thing I proof read sometimes--I had those first two switched around for a moment making it sound like I aspire to pray less and sin more.)

Trail Ridge Road

Jill and I spent a few days at the beginning of this week (what we consider our "weekend) in Grand Lake, Colorado. We were at a friend's cabin just outside of Rocky Mountain National Park--not a bad location, if I don't say so myself. While we were there, I decided to take a morning to accomplish something I've wanted to do for a long time (okay, a year, not really that long)--ride my bike up (and down!) Trail Ridge Road, which is the highest continuous paved road in North America, topping out at (approximately) 12,138 feet. Great weather, great scenery, great time. Maybe this will become an annual event...

The Power of Logic

It was going to be a two hour affair. No more.

I'd get up early with Adrian. Slug some coffee in the car. Ride my heart out. And be back mid-morning.

That's what Jill and I decided last night while we sat on the front porch, discussing what to do today (before we got interrupted by the fire department, who were called over by a neighbor who hit a gas line while digging in his front yard. He was embarrassed (or should have been) because it was his second offense in six months. I was grateful because it turned out to be an excellent opportunity to meet half the people on our block who came out to gawk. Maybe I should do more digging in the name of evangelism...). We had initially talked about me cashing in my Father's Day present and riding the "Peak to Peak Highway"--a 70 mile jaunt through the mountains from Blackhawk (were Jill could spend the morning gambling and eating at casino buffets) to Estes Park (were Jill could eat Carmel apples and find lots of delightful souvenir t-shirts, mugs, and "collectibles). However, we didn't want to take the time today. So we decided on the previously mentioned two hour ride, which was to be up a little (13 mile) climb south of town.

And then I got to thinking. Why spend an hour driving (round trip) when with just a bit more time (okay, another hour), I could ride my bike to the beginning of the climb ? I'd save gas, be a half a step closer to fitness, and get an extra thirty miles in my mileage log. It made perfect sense. So (with Jill's blessing) that's what I decided to do.

And then I got to thinking. Once I'd already ridden the thirty miles to the top of Deer Creek Canyon, why turn around there? With just another hour of riding, I could loop through Conifer and Evergreen--perhaps stop for a good cup of coffee--and get another fifteen miles in the mountains. It sounded like too good of a plan to pass up.

And then I got to thinking. If I was already going to be spending the time to ride 75 miles, why wouldn't I just spend another hour and a half and log a full century? It'd be nice to roll through Red Rocks and maybe check out Golden and say "Hi" to the folks at Coors. I had to admit--it sounded like a most reasonable idea.

Apparently, I can rationalize anything.* Because as I rolled out the door this morning (an hour later than expected, of course) I had half an intention to do all that. It just seemed to make so much sense. It's hard to trump the power of logic.

But not impossible, of course.

When I got to the top of Deer Creek Canyon, I just had to turn around. And though I blamed the looming thunderheads (looks like rain, tut tut), the real reason I decided to head home was that I knew my little boy and my lovely wife were waiting for me. How could I stay away from a face like this?

*I think I'm understanding credit card debt--and sin--a little better from this experience!

Ride Around Town

CL and I took a ride around Denver this morning. All said and done, he put in 52 miles, I put in 58. It was CL's second longest ride ever--the only one longer being a ride around Lake Okoboji we did in Jr. High (A day we both remember for different reasons as well. It was the day Chris got his beloved cat, Buddy. Also the first (and I think last) time that I experienced the unpleasant surprise of sour milk on my Raisin Bran. And I just thought it was frozen...). To commemorate the big day, I decided to take my camera and snap a few random shots from the bike.

Also a shot of the local wildlife...regrettably, I missed the other notable bit of wildlife--a man riding bike with a parrot on his shoulder.

Fumes...

Seems to me this blog is running on fumes (if that). I guess I'm settling into life in the bigdirtycity--ski days and bike rides no longer seem blog-worthy. Thankfully, we have a baby coming in a month (give or take) so I'll be able to keep it going with a few thousand pictures of the little person. I know that's what folks really want anyway.

Until that time comes, a few random thoughts from on my bike ride yesterday. Read them at your own risk. I can't guarantee your entertainment (you get what you pay for).

1. Pregnant ladies can't be trusted--at least not about the weather. They have a core temperature of approximately 187 degrees and will tell you it's warm enough to bike without gloves--even when it's 35 degrees. For the record, that is not warm enough.
2. Homeless guy playing trumpet. I saw one yesterday--he wasn't very good, but at least he was practicing. I had a flashback to fifth grade trumpet lessons--sitting next to CL in Mr. VH's garage on hard steel folding chairs blurting out our rendition of "Oh When the Saints." And then I wondered what life was like for him in fifth grade, pictured his mom signing him up for music lessons, wondered about the dreams she had for him, he had for himself. Just a reminder that the homeless are people. And that they never pictured life turning out that way for themselves either.
3. The creepy guy in the white van. He's been showing up on a daily basis this week, parking on the street--just in view of my office window. I think he lives down the block. I also think he's a drug dealer. I'm basing this on the fact that strange people pull up next to the white van, in their zippy little Civics, he (the driver of the white van) gets in the car with them for about five seconds, something happens (I haven't gotten out the binocs yet), then they both drive away. I'm wondering when this necessitates a call to the cops--I hate to waste their time. Plus, I enjoy watching him--this keeps me entertained at least ten minutes a day.
4. Ethical dilemmas. As every Seinfeld fan knows, we (cyclists, drivers, humankind) are supposed to have a deal with the Critter Kingdom--especially pigeons and squirrels. The deal is: we approach, they move. Well, the pigeons on the bike path haven't been cooperating. One nearly hit me last week. So, I've been trying to help them out--when I get close, I bark like a dog (this works well for squirrels, geese, and deer as well). So here's the dilemma. These particular uncooperative pigeons are under the bridge--right by a homeless guy. I don't want the homeless guy to think I'm barking at him--but I also don't want to get hit in the face by a lazy pigeon. What should I do?

That's about it. Hey, it was a short bike ride.

Best. Monday. Ever.

Okay, maybe not the best Monday ever. But top five. Or top ten. I've had some really good Mondays.*

Here are some highlights:

• The French: My parents came out for a quick visit this weekend. We decided to send them off in style with breakfast at a local bakery: Trompeau. Real French folks serving real French pastries. Oiu oiu! I don't care if it's unpatriotic (or unmanly). I love their ham & swiss croissants. The pear/chocolate are also good.

• Hot Deals: We had to go to Runner's Roost to exchange some things for Jill. We were delighted to find a 40% of sale and--best of all--shoes in my size. Apparently, my size is now 14D. I never knew that. They are really, really white--but I'll work on that.

• Smart Barbers: I got my hair cut yesterday. My hairdresser theorized that I spend a lot of time outside. Her reasons? My wild, bushy eyebrows. Apparently, she thinks there's a connection. No longer are they a mark of shame. Now they're a badge of honor declaring to the world that, despite my soft pastor's hands, I am indeed a rugged outdoorsman. Who wouldn't want that?

• Celebrity Sightings: I think I spotted Josh Blue on my bike ride. He was standing shuffling along the Cherry Creek bike trail. Of course, I can't be certain. It may have been a homeless guy who bore a striking resemblance. Do you think Josh Blue spends a lot of time outdoors?


• High Calories: Jill and I finally got her birthday date in. Cheesecake factory! Tiramisu cheesecake is, in fact, very delicious.

• High Culture: We want to Plainsong last night at the Denver Center for the Performing Arts. I love legitimate theatre. And it's not just because the theatre crowd makes me feel tough. Great story. Great actors. Great night!



• The Tax Man: We had our taxes done yesterday. In reality, this didn't start out so great. Our accountant--who seemed blissfully incompotent from the start--looked at us at the end of our hour and said, "Uhm, sorry to have to tell you this--but you owe another $2,500. I guess we goofed last year when we estimated your payments." This was not a highlight in our day. In fact it was something of a low point (Despite the fact that it gave me a good sermon illustration for Sunday's message on Matt. 6:24-34). But things got better--both for the reasons mentioned above and because of the phone call we got twelve hours after our appointment. Turns out the tax man goofed. We're getting a refund! Or we think we are. We're trying not to get too overly optomistic in the (likely?) event that he goofed again.

Wow--seven things. It seems biblical to stop there!

*I know people are supposed to hate Mondays. But as they are my day off, I really, really like them.

Moab!

A few weekends ago (after Jill and I took our trip to Creede) I jumped in the car with two buddies (Chris and Nick) for a couple days of mountain bike. It sounds cruel to leave Jill at home, but she really wanted to go to work.

Here's the cliffnotes version of our trip:

Friday:
6:54am--Stuff junk in the car. Neatly of course.
7:18--Drivin' drivin' drivin.
12:34--Stop at Wendy's for lunch. This would prove to be a poor choice.
2:07--Set up camp.
2:18--head out to Slick Rock Trail. A little scary. A lot steep. Mucho fun.
Dusk--Grocery store. Delcious noodle supper. Beer. Diet Coke. Cool Ranch Doritos.
Later--Bed time. Animated discussion about "Blankin' Robert Plant" in the back ground.

7:08am--Rise and shine to heated debates in next campsite.
7:32--Start water for coffee.
7:56--still waiting for water to boil.
8:02--Pour water into nelgean with great haste. Ponder Nick's new french press. Make with haste.
8:04--Spit out large chunks of coffee. Acknowledge our ineptitude with the french press.
8:28--Catch Shuttle that drops us @ 25 miles into desert at the top of porcupine Rim trail.
9:47--start riding.
9:52--whoop with delight.
10:01--pass crazy guys "doing some drugs" (their words not mine) along side of trail
10:07 Whoop some more.
11:48--Hunt for trail. Trust hightened sensory perception of aforementioned crazy guys.
11:57--question sensory perception of crazy guys.
12:43--more whooping.
1:51--accept oatmeal from crazy guy. "It's all natural...I mean no green, man." (Imagine Otto like voice).
2:35--laughter as I endo (flip over handlebars)
2:42--grimace when discover that bike is not functioning properly.
2:55--CL miraculously fixes my bike (mostly).
Later--finish ride.
4:37 (ish)--Discover toppled tent. Chuckle.
4:41--discover bent poles on new tent. Swear under breath. Consider leaving to beat storm.
4:53--Make comfort food--brats.
5:01--Contented by brats, decide to stay.
5:06--wind changes.
5:07--decide to leave.
5:41--stuff remaining goods in car and leave.
Later--eat Taco Bell. This is also a poor choice.
Much later--grind teeth, hunch over, squint, and pray as we drive over Vail Pass in snow.
2:30am--arrive home.

Okay: Here's the good part. The pictures...

We're Back

Well, we're back--"We" being me and my computer (which has been undergoing major surgery the past few weeks but is finally fixed--I think) and, more importantly, me and Jill from our vacation.

The short version is that Jill and I went to Creede, Colorado for a few days and had a great time. We did all those things married people do--you know, went to bed early, went for a few walks, played games (I taught Jill Yatzee!) and read (for the record: Jill and I listened to The Last Juror, I finished Whale Warrior, and also completed Terrorist and Lone Survivor). Then we came home so that Jill could go to work on Friday and Saturday and I could go for a little bike ride in Moab, Utah.

Here's the longer version:
Jill and I headed out after church Sunday afternoon on what turned out to be about a five hour drive down U.S. Highway 285. We chatted a lot, ate "Pull and Peels" (more my thing than Jill's), and then had a jaw dropping moment when we came around a bend and suddenly had a huge mountain range (the Collegiate Peaks, I believe) extending before us. The pictures never capture it, but we paused for a few tries anyway.



Monday, we headed from our little cabin on the Rio Grande to the town of Creede. In the summer months, Creede is supposed to be a happenin' little town--it has a lot of theatre, artsy-fartsy stuff. But in the fall (as we expected), there wasn't much to do there but sit around in the local coffee shop and talk about high-powered rifles, camouflage, and musk (its hunting season, in other words). Not really our thing. But that was okay. We had a very greasy burger, stopped by the Forest Service to get some maps and recommended hike routes, and then headed out of town to take one of the recommended hike. A good time was had by all, but a better time would've been had if the place we ate for lunch had put a little more hamburger in with their grease. And if we had Daisy along (sniff, sniff).

Tuesday Jill and I drove a little ways up from our cabin so that Jill could hike and I could bike. The goal (for me) was to make it to make the 14.5 mile MTB ride to Wheeler Geological Area and see the sights. I made it--eventually. And in retrospect, I'd even say I had a good time. But for much of the ride, I could only think, "Wow, I'm not very bright. This was not a good idea."

Here's a few free cycling tips for you from one who's been there. First, elevation makes things harder. (Yes, very good, I know). And on a related note: 11,000 feet (the elevation of my ride) is much higher than 5,000 feet (where I live). And the second tip: if you make it about 5 miles into your ride (okay, 3.5 miles into your ride) and you're wondering if it would be best to turn around--if you really have what it takes to mountain bike 30 miles over tough terrain with much less oxygen than you're accustomed to--you've probably bitten off more than you can chew. You're probably going to have a miserable couple of hours ahead of you. At least, that was my experience. I made it to my destination, but for a good two thirds of the ride home I felt lousy. I don't want to scare my mother or sound overly dramatic, but I was cold. I was tired. I was exhausted (I had to stop and push my bike up several small hills). Like I said, I wasn't very bright in choosing to do that ride. But of course, I'd do it again in a heart-beat if I had the chance.

That was Tuesday. Wednesday was a bit more laid back. We had intended to go "somewhere", but it looked like snow, so after going out for an even greasier burger than Monday, we hunkered down at the house. Perfect.

Thursday we made the drive back home, swinging by Great Sand Dunes National Park. There are sand dunes there. They are very great. So I guess the park is aptly named. We didn't spend much time there, but some day we'll go back, hike up them, and get lost in the wilderness

That's all for that portion of the trip. I'll tell about my little bike ride in Moab later this week. For know, here are some more pics of the rest of the trip (push the play button if you haven't figured that out already).

Little Pocket of o' Sunshine

Mondays are a weird day for me. They are my official day off--but I usually feel like garbage for a good part of them. I think I suffer from what I once heard Rob Bell refer to as a "Preacher's Hangover" --I feel exhausted, may or may not have a headache, and can't help but thinking "Oh my, what did I do?" and more to the point, "What did I say yesterday?"

In order to deal with this condition--and for our general mental health--Jill and I do our best to get out of town for a while on Mondays. We usually head up to the hills (it seems like a more entertaining option than heading out to the plains)and do some hiking and biking. That was the plan this morning, but a dark cloud was hanging over Denver when we awoke. We thought it might end up being a quiet day at home reading.

However, thanks to the wonders of the Internet, we discovered that the place we wanted to go only had a 30% chance of rain for the day (and not until the afternoon). So we loaded up the dog and headed out.

Things looked bad on the way out of town. We couldn't even see the mountains that we were driving towards because they were covered with thunderheads. Jill commented that it looked like they were being devoured by "the Nothing" in The Never Ending Story (great book, lousy movie). However, because we believe absolutely everything that we read on the Internet, we persevered on. And we were glad we did.

The place we went to is known as "Buffalo Creek" and is part of Pike National Forest. The biking was mediocre, but the scenery was great. And the interent didn't fail us--we got our little pocket of sunshine.

The place was basically wiped out by a forest fire ten or so years ago and is now in various stages of re-growth. There are also a lot of interesting rock formations etc. The pictures don't really do it justice (it seems nearly impossible to take good mountain pictures) but here are a few attempts...




PS. Sorry to you who check this regularly the lack of updates lately. I blame Harry Potter and the way my computer has been acting up. Grrr.
In the spirit of true repentance, I will do my best to do better in the future. .

Bachin' It: An Ode to Jill

I've been "bachin' it" the last few days. Jill has been in NY visiting her family since last Friday. That means that I've spent a lot of time doing "sermon research" (watching movies and reading), going for long bike rides*, eating nachos and drinking Pepsi One (that one calorie really does make a difference).

But she's finally coming home today.

That's probably good--on many levels. It's good because I miss her, of course. But it's also good because our household probably can't tolerate her absence much longer. Things just seem to go down hill when she's not around. And it's not just the fact that she has a much lower threshold for messiness than I do (why put in the dishwasher today what you can put in tomorrow?). Here's a short list of the (minor) catastrophes that occurred while Jill was gone.

• On Saturday, I went for a road ride with a local bike club. 60 miles should not have been a big deal. But I forget to take food (I thought we were out. Talking with Jill Sat. night, she reminded me that we were not--I just hadn't looked in the right spot). Well, I blew up--big time. I've never felt so awful on a bike. Toward the end, I even wanted to puke going downhill. Sunday, my lungs/chest still hurt. I'm sure this would not have happened if Jill were around.
• Food wasn't the only thing I forgot on Saturday. I also forgot sunscreen. I got my first burn of the year (pretty good, really). Saturday night my increasingly "noble forehead" had little strips of burn where the sun snuck through the vents in my helmet.
• Sunday, I decided to make myself a frozen pizza for supper. Frozen pizza is usually one of life's little pleasures for me (I even splurged and got Digornoes). But it's less pleasurable when you forget to take the cardboard out from under the pizza when you slide it in the oven. Thankfully, no fires.
• Monday night, I read a spooky article on rattle snakes right before bed. I tossed and turned and had bad dreams all night. I suspect my beloved wife would've censored my reading material (or, more likely, told me to go to bed earlier) and prevented this too.
• Even Daisy has been affected by Jill's absence. Last night, I had to let the distraught pup out three times. This morning I discovered that it was because of a nasty case of diarrhea. It could've been from her snarfing of the neighbor's peaches. But I think it was because she missed Jill. Regardless, it was very nasty. But even that wasn't the worst of it.
• The worst of it happened on Sunday. I decided to pick up some ice-cream with my Digornoes. Coffee/fudge = good. The bad part was that I didn't realize until I got home that it was "fat free." What a disaster. That too, I trust, would have easily been avoided if Jill were at home.

*CL: I road the first section of the Colorado Trail on Monday. It's sweet. I'll post pictures when my computer starts cooperating. That may or may not be after the Second Coming.

Piece of Cake

Well, Saturday was the big "Triple Bypass" . Some of you may recall from an earlier post that I was somewhat apprehensive about the ride. But it turns out, things went better than I dared hope.

I came. I rode. I rode some more. I conquered.

But I think I got off easy.

For one thing, there was the weather. It was perfect. "The best ever", is what I'm told. Partly cloudy. 70s. No raging headwinds (only mild ones). Only a few minutes of rain (and that during the last 30 minutes of the ride. This is unusual---people usually expect a good thunderstorm at some point during the day.) Compare that to last year, when there was so much rain, snow, cold, and carnage that at least half of the riders quit. I can just imagine what those who actually finished will say when I tell them I rode this year. "Yeah...well, back in MY day, in ought 6, it was so cold we got hypothermia coming down Squaw pass. And that was just the beginning.."

But the weather wasn't the only unfair advantage I had. You might also consider the distinct advantage my body type has for around half of the miles of the TBP. Weighing in at around 220, I am able to descend much more quickly than your typical 140-150 pound cyclist. I easily cruised down Loveland pass, for example, at speeds of 45mph before tapping the breaks (my riding partners who weigh about the same cracked 50.) Clearly, with nearly half of the ride being down hill, I had it easy here too. I can just hear the skinny guys say: "Yeah, you Clydestales may have to carry an extra hundred pounds on the way up. But it sure pays off on the way down!"

And then there was my gear. Compared to most people on this type of ride, I have nice, but not outrageously nice, cycling gear. But compared to the guy I passed going up Loveland pass, mine was completly over the top (no pun intended). If you look closely at the pictures to the right, you'll notice that he's riding up Loveland Pass on an old Schwinn Stingray.* It has a bannana seat. Chopper bars. According to the old Schwinn catalogues, it was around 39 pounds.** And you'll also notice that this fine gentleman is riding without padded shorts etc. Instead, he's dressed for comfort in cut-off jean shorts, a Rolling Stones t-shirt (taking with him at the top he was quite proud of that shirt!), and boots. Ouch.

Like I said, with the exception of the 120 miles, 10,000+ feet of climbing that the ride involved, I had it easy.

Now about that.

For those of you interested in the details, we left Evergreen around 6:20 and immediately started climbing the 18 miles up Squaw/Juniper Pass. That took a little under 2 hours. Coming up was great, but to tell the truth, going down was a little cold (the west side of the mountain doesn't get much sun at 8 am!). Once we got to the bottom of that (Idaho Springs), we started the loooong, slow climb up to the top of Loveland Pass. This seemed to be typical for the last two passes. A fair amount of elevation gain spread out over a lot of miles. This could make for a long, slow grind, but I rode conservatively and I felt fine for most of it. It was only toward the end of Vail Pass (Pass number 3) that I wondered what on earth I was trying to prove. However, at the top I had some oreos and watermelon and felt revived for the 25 mile descent to the finish. That was a good way to end.

Here are the stats, which I'll be determined to beat next year:

• Start time: 6:20 ish.


• Finish Time: 4:20 ish.


• Average Moving Speed: 14:3 ish.


• Time on Bike: 8 hours and 25 minutes ish.


• Max Speed: 45 mph ish.


• Total Mileage: 121 miles (ish)

And here are some random pics from the day, including the actual piece of cake referred to in the title of this post (the ride really was not that). It was my birthday cake, two weeks late, because I was trying to hold off on the ice cream in order to keep in nice, svelte climbing shape.

One of the five (?) reststops on the route. Somehow, me and the guys I was riding with managed to find each other at these.

Going up Loveland Pass.


"Silent Bob", chatting it up Loveland Pass.

Me: at the Top of Loveland Pass. Only a little lightheaded.

Crazy Guy: at the top of Loveland Pass. No more lightheaded than usual.

MMMM. Cake. What Jill did while she pined away for me...

*I don't know if he rode from the beginning. But I am quite certain we saw him roll into Avon some 60 miles later a few hours after we got in).

*My bike probably weighs about 23 with all my stuff. The real "Weight Weenies" (read: "rich guys") get their bikes down around 15lbs

Things I Like About CO, Part I

I've been doing my best to enjoy some of what CO has to offer, so here (and in the following few posts, as I get time) are a few shots of things I like about living here. Note the theme: mountains, bike rides, mountains.* These shots are from a few bike rides a did before going to M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i. They include a road ride up Deer Creek Canyon, and some mountian rides with pals CL and Nick. Warning: by viewing this slide show, you risk seeing me in all my spandex-clad-biker-glory. View at your own risk.



*Note: These are not all the things I like about living here. I also love my job, my church, my dog, my house, my grill, etc etc....

A Manly Man...and other news

Well, Monday night at 7:19 pm it became official--I'm a manly man now. That was the moment that I finished assembling my new grill. That's right, we have a grill now. And I assembled it. And from this point forward, we'll be eating meat. Lots of meat. That I "Barbecue" (not "cook"--cooking is for ladies. Barbecuing is for manly men).
Here is a picture of the new beast in all it's glory.




Here's a picture of me, doing what manly men do. Pretend that's steak, not chicken.

In other news, the Platte River is VERY high right now. This is the point on the Platte River Bike Trail (which runs next to the Platte River) where I had to turn around today--there was just no getting through that one.

Here's a point a little further down the trail. I chose to walk around the other side, through the rocks where it was dry. This guy was slightly smarter than his friend, who tried to ride through that water. He ended up submerged up to his mid-thigh and, ultimately, tipping over into quite a deep pool of water. I shouldn't delight in the misfortunes of others, but I really wish I had had my camera out a few seconds sooner.

A Small Acomplishment (or My First One)

Well, I had my first attempt at a mountain yesterday. Not a big deal, really. I rode out to Bear Creek State Park, through Morrison, and part way up Bear Creek Canyon (I think I have the names right--Mom and Dad, this is the Canyon we drove up on the way to Vern's). Despite Friday's self deprecation/flagellation (that flaGEllation, not flaTUlation), it went just fine. Of course, I only went to Idledale, four miles up, but it was something. And one day (tomorrow?) I'll ride all the way up to Kittridge (7 more miles).

Here's a pic of the road I rode. As you can see, nice gradual grade, lots of twists and turns, and better scenery than the downtown Denver bike trails. I was able to "settle in" and actually enjoyed myself--both on the way up and the way down. (And yes, I stopped to take the picture. Maybe next time I'll shoot a video while riding.) Sorry photography experts--I didn't quite nail the old "rule of thirds"...

And here's one of my turn around point. No significance, really. I just figured I ought to make some record of my first attempt at riding in the mountains. Even if it was only four miles up (in my defense, I rode 16 miles to get to those four miles). For posterity's sake, I guess...

Oh, and bike geeks, check out my new matching silver saddle/bartape. If you can't be fast, you should at least look fast.

PS: No bike posts for at least a week, I promise.

PPS: Little digital cameras that you can stick in your pocket are awesome.

Acting My Age (or: It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time)

The other night when I was talking to my mom on the phone I was reminding her of what a good, responsible son I was/am.* After all, I never dropped out of college to go be a ski bum (no offense, CL), never hopped in an 84 Dodge Ram 50 pick-up and drove cross country, sans spare tire, just to impress a girl (no offense, John), never got a piercing, tattoo, or perm (no offense, Micah), never drove the old Ford Tempo over 75 miles per hour (and that was in South Dakota, where it was legal), never stood on the side of the road with my thumb out, hoping against all hope for a ride (well, that's only partially true...). Yes, I told my mother, I had had a safe, sensible** childhood.


Of course, she didn't buy it.




"Well," she said, "you're only twenty-six. You've got plenty of time to do something stupid. Plus," she added, "There was that time you tried to ride your bike for twenty-four hours. I wouldn't exactly call that sensible."

Okay, maybe it wasn't sensible. But it was fun. And guess what Mom--now I can do you one better.

A couple of weeks ago, I signed up for a ride to be held in Colorado this July called "The Triple Bypass." As you may have gathered from the name, this ride is supposed to be hard. Very hard.

The hard part isn't the mileage per se. The ride is 120 miles--I've ridden that distance enough times to be comfortable with it (yeah, I know, aren't I awesome?). But the catch is that I've ridden that distance in Iowa and Michigan. And, for the geographically challenged among us, I should point out that there are no mountains in Iowa or Michigan. But there are in Colorado. And there's the rub.

Those foolish enough to attempt the Triple Bypass will attempt to ride over three of these mountains: Squaw Pass (11,140 ft), Loveland Pass (11,990 ft.) and Swan Mountain and Vail Passes (10,560 ft), which all come out to (and I quote now from the website) "over 10,000 ft. of lung-busting gain in elevation!"

Sounds delightful.

Now some of you may be thinking that I'm being a wuss. Or that, having completed the previously mentioned 24 hour challenge, this should be no big deal for a stellar cyclist such as myself. If you're in that camp, let me repeat some key facts here.

1.) I've never ridden up a mountain. Ever. Never mind three mountains in one day.

2.) I live in Denver, a city which (contrary to popular belief) is one of the flattest places on earth (it's really just an extension of Kansas, you know). Yes, the mountains are close, but it takes some doing to get to them. This makes training for such an event difficult (but admittedly not as difficult as if we lived in say, Illinois).

3.) A 24 Hour Challenge is relatively easy. As one person put it to me, you just make sure to "Stay on the d***n bike. It's a mental game.*** But in the mountains, I fear that the forces of gravity my prevail over my mental power. I think you actually need strength to ride in the mountains. And that leads me to the all important ...

4.) I'm really not in good shape--at all. I've been working on my "pastor's paunch" over the winter, and it's coming along all too nicely.

I was reminded of #4 twice this week. On Sunday, Jill and I took another ride to Chatfield State Park. As a part of that ride, we road up to the top of the reservoir. Compared to riding in Denver, this means riding up quite a significant climb. But I suspect that compared tor riding up a mountain (or three), it involves riding up a molehill.

Well, I didn't do exactly shine at Chatfield. I wasn't quite seeing spots, but I was close. I was wheezing. Straining. Grinding. I looked down more than once to see if I had a flat tire (I did not. And by the way, I can no longer use altitude as an excuse--as of this week, we've lived here six months, which is about how long its supposed to take to get fully acclimated). All in all, it was not at all an impressive display of physical (or mental) prowess.

I let myself figure that it was just a fluke. A bad day.

It wasn't.

On Friday afternoon, I rode to Cherry Creek State Park. Once again, I was faced with some relatively minor climbs. Once again, I wheezed like I had already donated one of my lungs for scientific research. If it weren't for the middle aged women I passed on the way home (decked out in their denim shorts and purple sweatsuits with their hybrid bikes) and the homeless guys (with their flat tires and 85 lbs of gear on their Huffies) my ego would've been completely shot. Perhaps that's not a good sign. Perhaps I am really not so sensible after all.

So enough whining. Why did I decide to do this? Well, psychoanalytical reasons aside (someday, maybe I'll write an entry on how this is all Darryl De Ruiter's fault), it just seemed like a good idea of the time. And the fact of the matter is that when it's January, and there is snow on the ground, and you really haven't exercised for three months, well, it's easy to dream big and (ironically) overestimate just how in shape you are (or could be). And there are cookies. And a jersey (that I get regardless of if I finish or not. Hmmm). And besides, 3,500 people attempted this ride last year (never mind that half didn't finish--supposedly due to adverse weather. A much higher percentage finished the previous year). I figured that if they could do it, I could do it. And, really, it seemed easier than some of the rides I thought doing--say, the Leadville 100. Now that would have been stupid (but then again, I'd sure like one of those shiny belt buckles...)

*Some portions of this conversation may be slightly embellished.

**I'll not put up with anyone posting comments to the contrary, reminding others of my less-than-sensible moments when I did things like, oh, use the bottom of a pop can to scrape the windshield (hey, the aluminium seemed soft enough).

***Free Marraige Tip: This is my general approach to completing endurance evants (note that I didn't say completing them fast or well). It may be yours too. That, however, does not mean your wife will find it encouraging or inspiring advice when traing for, say, a marathon.

The Windy City

I remember going on a bike ride my senior year at Dordt and sensing that, if I didn't lean hard into the wind, I'd be blown right into the ditch. At that point in my life, I was quite certain that Iowa was the windiest place on earth. Now I'm not quite so convinced. Denver, and the Eastern plains of Colorado, give Iowa a pretty good run for its money. In fact, I suspect that the real wind starts in the Rocky Mountains and has slowed down considerably by the time it gets to the Midwest.

I made this discovery while doing one of my favorite things on a bike today--taking a tandem ride with Jill. There are a lot of reasons to love tandem riding, but what it basically comes down to is that, although Jill weighs a bit more than my ipod, she's a whole lot more entertaining. (Jill did suggest today that one thing that would make tandem riding even more enjoyable is if we could get Daisy to join in the fun. "Do you think that she would ride in one of those Burley trailers?"). Daisy's absence aside, the only real downside of tandeming is that with Jill riding "stoker", I couldn't dispose of my, um, "cold bi-product" quite so easily as if I were riding solo--Jill generally doesn't appreciate the old "farmer blow"/"snot rocket" coming back her way. That meant that meant I had to resort to one of the most disgusting inventions ever made--the handkerchief (I'm all for sustainable living--but I draw the line at carrying around what amounts to a personal booger collection in my pocket).

Anyway, the wind. We discovered the power of the wind when climbing up to the top of Chatfield Reservoir in Chatfield State Park. Climbing up the reservoir leaves you very exposed (as the picture to the left hopefully demonstrates)--remember that there aren't a lot of trees here (outside of the mountains) and so when the wind blows down, it really pushes on you (not unlike Iowa in this regard). I think at one point, Jill thought that it was going to blow us right over. Based on our previous experience falling on the tandem, that would not have been popular.

On the bright side, the wind did make for a fast--and fun--ride home (Another great thing about tandems is the speed you can pick up going down hill. When Jill asks how fast we're going, my standard reply is "Not very", but on a descent hill its not difficult to top 40 mph). We really appreciate the trail system in Denver (it's like self-contained roads for bikes--it goes beside/over/under roads and there are separate trails for walkers/joggers on the side). But there's one catch. If you're going for scenery, you have to be fairly selective in what you look at.

On the one hand, yes, there is a lot of nice scenery. The Platte River Trail, which we rode today out to Chatfield, runs right next to the Platte River (hence the catchy name) and through several golf courses (it's really, really hard for me not to yell at the golfers when they're in mid-swing). So it's not unusual to scenes like the one depicted to the right (try to ignore the RV dealership there in the distance).

On the other hand, the trail also runs next to Santa Fe Ave (Highway 85) and past a lot of the normal junk you'd expect to see in a city. So you can also count among the highlights the place that cars go to die (pic. #1: "The Car Crematorium") and the place where Waste Management trucks apparently store our trash before taking it to the landfill (pic. #2: sorry Dad, I couldn't get a better shot of the RMT cylinders in action). I also had some pictures of big loaders doing whatever big loaders do that I wanted to include for Caleb S (if he's still into that sort of thing), but for some reason they wouldn't stick.

Not quite ideal and, in truth, it does make us miss the backroads of Michigan. But then again, maybe there's a moral to the story.* Maybe riding in Denver is like the rest of life here (or anywhere else)--a whole lot depends on your outlook. Of course there's always plenty of junk to be found--but if that's what you focus on, life/cycling is not going to be very enjoyable. Undoubtedly, we'd all be better off if we learn to develop eyes to see beauty where it can be found.

Maybe I'll have to work on that.

*My apologies--I didn't intend to write a morality tale today.