It’s quite amazing how different everything looks.  My great love is summer.  I love the aspens that usually come with ski town riding, the amazing green plants, and the bright happy wildflowers.   In the winter, you can appreciate more of the black and white, quiet serenity.  Sometimes it’s a mix of both having to posthole through high alpine trail in which the snow never quite melts away. Either way, I’ll take it!

I wanted to do a post where I could honor some of my favorite ski area/ski towns to ride in summer because I think that skiiers don’t often get to see these places when they are every color of the rainbow.

Steamboat. My newest addition.

Park City

Yummy

A-Basin

Snowmass

Monarch

Breckenridge

Vail

Ones worth mentioning that I can’t seem to track photos for…. Winter Park, Telluride, Big Bear, and many more.

It’s hard to believe in just a month’s time, the snow will start to trickle back into our lives in the high country. Not… yet!

I have been on many, many hikes in my life and rides above treeline, so I wasn’t all that intimidated by the hike. In fact, I ended up being slightly disappointed with the effort. Mt. Elbert is also rated easy. I couldn’t feel a huge difference in the change in oxygen between 12,000 – 14,433′… but that was just walking. Had I tried to ride a bike at that altitude, I bet things will be different. I still need to get my butt up Mt. Evans on my bike.

I could, however, appreciate the BIG views. I could appreciate that I was standing atop the highest peak in Colorado, and I could respect everyone else who was doing the same hike as me. Sometimes I take my fitness level for granted!

Signing the logbook

The flowers still find a way.

I love the jaggedness of the mountain!

This is one of my favorite things about being above treeline.

Despite my thoughts of it being “too easy of an effort,” I definitely ate my words!  I was really sore the next day and the soreness hung around for like 3 days!

I’m looking forward to the next time!

At this point you’re likely wondering why I wasn’t carrying a spare tube, a patch kit, tools…anything of a repair-wielding nature. The answer’s easy: I’m a roadie. Duh. Plus, wasn’t this a Gran Fondo-like race? I imagined lasagna stops around every bend, much less some seriously stellar wheel support. Turns out I kept up the maligned roadie reputation of never being prepared, having a mechanical, and then whining about it later.

Jokes aside, once wheel-changed, I started off again down Nelson, down 36, and right onto Lefthand Canyon. Having long lost contact with the 100 and 50-mile groups, I started casually coming upon the 25-milers. I settled into a pace, popped an electrolyte tablet and began the long gradual climb towards Ward.

By contrast, I later learned that my friend and Team Rio Grande racer Allen Krughoff had launched an early attack on the 100-mile group in an attempt to soak up some video coverage from the helicopter overhead. He also explained how he was practically being impeded by support people – the Mavic neutral wheel car, a moto, a photographer, maybe a scantily clad woman or two cooling him off from out of a car window? All I know is that his early race experience was just a scoch different than mine. But then again, “that’s racing.”

Being a lumbering 6’3’’, 180 pounder and riding a not-so-mountain suited 11-23 cassette, I kept forcing myself to back off the pace knowing I would likely be in no man’s land (riding between groups) for the next 80 miles and would endure some legitimate suffering. But, like a chubby Andy Schleck, my “racer” mentality started creeping in and I began lifting the pace and passing people out of the saddle.

While not quite lasagna-around-every-bend, the organization and support behind Centurion Colorado was spectacular. It was a smokin’ hot day even with our early 7AM start and it felt like nearly every time I was running low on water there was a feed station like an oasis on the horizon. I tried to keep count of how many water and sports drink bottles I consumed and I think it was somewhere around five of each by end of day. You always hear pros talking about “staying on top” of their hydration and fuel during big stage races and with 9,000 feet of climbing and what turned out to be a 5.5 hour day on the bike, it was crucial that you ate and drank as much as you could stomach. The racecourse for the 100-milers was like a page out of the Tour De France – it had all the distance, beauty, demands, and heat that a typical stage in France, in July, has. Plus, like real Pro Tour racers, we were treated to many closed-road sections where, I imagine, the guys at the front of the race used to amble around and practice some seldom-used tactics.

Meanwhile, back in the middle of the race, the joyous nature of so many riders early in the day began to wear off. This was demonstrated most explicitly on the grades of “Super James,” or the section of road between Jamestown proper and Peak-To-Peak highway.

Panting, grunting, swearing.

This is what you would have heard on this section as we toiled to get over the 10%+ climbs and 9,000 ft. elevation…oh, and the heat! Once over the top though, I really felt my legs come around. I even caught on to a few strong riders who I was able to work with on the descent down St. Vrain Canyon and into Lyons. It’s a bit of a misnomer, the idea of “working” on a downhill but those of you who like to ride (and ride fast) know that even one other person trading pulls with you can make it that much faster, that much more efficient.

So at long last, we pulled into downtown Lyons, cruised for a bit down 66 and over to Bohn Park. And finally it was done. Cue the joyous feeling and endorphins I referred to earlier because it hit me like a freight train of grins and giggles. And, more importantly, cue that lasagna station I mentioned before because like an Italian bambino at the hem of his Grandma’s apron, I pounced on the Bacaro lasagna that was being dished up in the post-race expo. Add a couple Evol burritos, a Coke, something like five brownies, a banana, another Gatorade, more water, and my Centurion Colorado race was a wrap.

In true Tour De France fashion, I have to say “chapeau” to Centurion for an incredible day of cycling. I’ll be back next year…‘cause “that’s racing!”

Fremont (foreground) and Mystic ascend Mount Elbert with Mount Massive in the background

I’m not going to go to tearjerker mode here, don’t worry. Just the facts. Talus was a 1-year-old dog I adopted from an amazing rescue organization, Western Border Collie Rescue. Despite being handled with great care and kindness, Talus had been exposed to the distemper virus before making it into the hands of the rescue. Neither myself nor the organization could have known this when I adopted him. What followed was a heartbreaking descent into illness and perhaps the most intense two months of my life before I had to say good-bye to the spunky, sweet border collie on May 2, 2009.

On the day he came into my care, I wrote him a letter of 10 promises. Most of them were what you’d expect: he’d never go hungry, never have to sleep on a hard concrete floor again, he had free passes for the shoes to be chewed, he would have a friend and defender till the end, those sorts of things. And I promised him mountains. I promised him the incredible freedom and big sky of the hills, all the way to the highest point in Colorado.

The illness cut my promise short.

The best I could do before the seizures began to overtake his strong little body was a sunset climb to the top of Mount Sanitas here in Boulder. By then, his legs were wobbly and weak as the disease slowly infected the part of his brain that controlled coordination. I decided to sling him on my shoulders and with my eyes glossy with tears, brought him to the highest summit we could reach in his lifetime. We stayed up there until the stars sparkled above and the matrix of city lights illuminated the landscape from Boulder to Denver. Two weeks later, he was gone.

Talus with his foster dad Andrew (left) and me on his adoption day.

It’s been just over a year now and I’ve stared at those ashes and empty collar many nights. I’m not ready to let go of the ashes yet, not until I’ve kept my promise. I know the act is purely symbolic, but I feel life had dealt my friend an unfair hand. The last thing his memory needs is a broken promise. Of course, any memorial tribute is a balm for the living not the dead. My own catharsis and a fitting honor to Talus’ memory waited over 14,000 feet.

As I set out on a picture perfect morning for the top, my team consisted of my cousin David and Uncle John, my 10-month-old border collie pup Fremont (from the same rescue) and Mystic, a friend’s dog that had been Talus’ best pal in his short life. The weather was ideal and when we reached the top, four of the crew had made it to the summit of their first 14er: John, David, Fremont and Talus.

I don’t know exactly why mountains ease the harshness our loss. After all, the pain of a lost friend lives only in our memories, an intangible void that is somehow soothed in sacred places. In my time in the mountains, I’ve seen ashes spread, dignified memorials and tasteful tributes. I’ve also witnessed marriage proposals, anniversaries, major goals – all while climbing the non-metaphorical mountains.

If anything, mountains have a way of restoring our dignity and validating the hard work we put into climbing them. From the high reaches, we gaze down upon a world of daily difficulties, broken promises, selfish pursuits—social Darwinism in all its glory. It seems fitting to honor those we’ve loved and lost by rising above the bustle and chaos, if only to say good-bye with an open and undistracted heart.

Talus made it to the top. As I watched Fremont romp and wrestle with his doggie friends in the summit snows, I know the “T-Man” would have loved every minute. I paused a moment before sliding his remains back into my pack, my heart lighter and now fully equipped to let him go.

When my teammate, Jeff Kerkove, told me he thought I had a really good shot of going to race the Marathon World Championships in St. Wendel, Germany August 8, I laughed in his face. In order to race a UCI World Championship race, you have to be selected by your country’s cycling federation. For that one day, you wear a jersey and shorts that says your country’s name on it, and not your normal team racing kit.

Even though I laughed at Jeff, I decided that even though it seemed like a long shot, maybe I should look into it. After all, I tend to underestimate myself because I’m just someone who loves to ride my mountain bike! When I saw the news on the US Marathon Worlds Team, I had to read it about 3 times and pinch myself to make sure that it was actually my name on that roster. On August 8, I will be wearing a red, white, and blue jersey that says “USA” on it with 3 other US riders. We will be representing the endurance racing community from our country as well as our cycling body.

Click the thumbnail for the full story, or click here for the press release from Ergon.

It has been 6 days since I got the news, and it still seems like I’m dreaming. I have never raced my bike overseas, but it has always been something I wanted to do. Going to World Championships had never been something on my radar because I never thought I could be good enough to do that. I started bike racing because it was a fun cross-training activity to complement running. It wasn’t something I did as a junior. In fact, when I was younger, I thought people on bikes were dorks in neon spandex. However, when I became obsessed with riding mountain bikes halfway through my undergrad, I started to have loftier goals, like maybe going pro. I am now in my 5th year racing as a pro. There have been times when I wondered why I spent so much time, money, and energy on bike racing. There have been times where I felt so fortunate to even know this sport exists. And there have been times where I have to do a triple take at the computer screen because I can’t believe my eyes.

I know this sounds cheesy, but if you love something, no matter how much you don’t believe it or believe in yourself, you never know what you can accomplish. Having the courage to step forward and say, “I am not afraid to take a chance and go for it” DOES pay off. I have 2 more weeks at home to prepare, and then it will be time to participate in the greatest accomplishment of my cycling career to date. Who knows what’s in store for the future?!? I look forward to the journey and challenges along the way. Go USA!

Meet Kelly Idema, ranger/naturalist for the city of Boulder’s Open Space and Mountain Parks division. She not only gets to ride her mountain bike for “work”, she also gets to play with guns. I thought I’d figured out a good scam with this writing gig, but man…she’s got the system beat.

Your tax dollars at work.

Idema took a few minutes to explain the ongoing trail development east of the Marshall-Mesa trailhead, with singletrack currently under construction past Cowdrey Draw. This trail will eventually connect to the CostCo area in Superior. After a short spin over the “Hump” on the old Morgul course, you can connect to the (probably familiar to most of you) Coalton trail and loop around to the stoplight at Hwy. 128 and 93. It ain’t Sun Valley or Durango…but it’s coming along! Thanks Open Space, BMA, and all of you who are making it happen.

As for Idema? Damn, she was just too nice to resent her…but man, she has it figured out!

Missing in Action

I’ve been a little MIA lately, from blogging, the local strongman competitions, and even the local climbing crags. Indeed, friends, the twins arrived and they’re taking up a bit of my time! My best half, Rebecca, is resting up and everybody’s healthy. Luca and Dominic arrived July 8, and both tipped the scales at over six pounds. They’re chowing like little milkpigs and they even let us sleep a bit.

They’re cute little suckers and look for ‘em in upcoming blogs on firecracker wars, how to meet chicks at postpartum yoga, and the ever-popular topic: keeping social services off your back. Right on!

I got the opportunity to spend a whole week in a state I had always wanted to visit. As the Ergon sales manager, part of my job is to visit bike shops and make sure that the buyers are educated with our brand, check to see if they have any comments or complaints, and also simply to make a contact on a personal level with all our dealers since Ergon is ordered through the distributors and not directly. When I got the word that Oregon was next on my itinerary, I planned it so I could race the Cascade CreamPuff on the weekend, and work during the week.

I got to see a huge chunk of the state, visiting Portland, Bend, Oakridge, and Eugene by car! I made sure to taste the local singletrack flavor in each area. When I think of Oregon, I think of moss, loamy singletrack, and thick trees. Here are my impressions of each area so if you go to Oregon, you know what to expect!

Portland.

Banana slug.  I have never seen anything like this before!  I thought it was a snake at first!

I forgot what this called, but you can actually eat it and it’s sour and tart. YUM!

I rode a trail called Scappoose. The guy at the bike shop said to park next to a blue gate and the trails all loop on each other.

I couldn’t get over how big the trees in Oregon are compared to Colorado. They are a LOT wider in diameter and so tall!

It was so dark in some sections of the trail that it almost seemed like nighttime. Clear lenses are a must. It was literally like being in the jungle!

There are some really cool trails around Mt St. Helen’s that I didn’t get to ride because you have to drive far, but I would love to check those out!

Oakridge/Eugene area

Portland sits at sea level, but Oakridge is in the mountains with an elevation of close to 1500′. The trails were a little drier and not quite as “jungly.” There was a LOT more moss and the rivers were soooo big, deep, and clear. It was mind blowingly gorgeous.

At the CreamPuff

Bend.

I headed East and was absolutely shocked to find myself in the high desert. Who knew? It looked a lot like spots on New Mexico and Colorado. The singletrack was no longer like carpet, but very fine, dry dust and smaller dry pine trees.

I have an Epic Cam helmet camera, I just didn’t have it with me so sorry for the Blair Witch quality of this video!

I rode Phil’s and Ben’s trails.  They are very beginner and mellow.

Oh whoops. haha

I can’t wait to get back to Oregon and explore some more!