October Break 2009 in Tejas

It took me 15 hours to get to Plano, TX from my house going the KS, OK route as opposed to my usual hypotenusal route via the TX panhandle. Right triangularly speaking, I decided to go the three-four route instead of the five. It was long. Don't know if I want to go that route for the return trip. A friend said though, that the OKC bombing memorial (RIP victims; Timothy James McVeigh there's a special place in hell just for you), was a pretty touching tribute to the loss that day. Worth checking out in a Schadenfreude kinda of way. Maybe, but that just makes it a 15 hour trip.

Ruby's doing great! She remembered us when we walked through the door. Her tail waggin' mightily and when she's super happy she does this mouth vibrational thing on your hand because she can't control herself. It was great seeing everybody although Mason and I were tired from sitting all day trying not to let boredom kill us and trying to be aware of other drivers. Driving's kinda like lifeguarding. Aware with boredom letting you know he's around by constantly tapping on your shoulder. I swear, Oklahoma has the biggest congregation of the world's $hittiest drivers. Second only to drivers in Phoenix, AZ.

Monday was spent getting a USB compatible LP player so's my daddy can convert his LPs to MP3s. Once we got it I got crazy playing some old LPs I left behind back in the day. It was a sonic blast from the past: Devo, Yes, Van Halen, Carol King (my Dad's), Kansas, Johann Strauss (Dad's again), EW&F, Pink Floyd, Styx, Led Zeppelin, Beatles...all on LP! Brought back some awesome memories. Mullets, high-top tennis shoes, parachute pants, power boosters, walking barefoot in the summers, pimples, concert T-shirts, skin tight bell bottoms, Members Only jackets, bandannas, aviator sunglasses, checkered Vans (shoes), upturned collars on Lacoste shirts, and "feathered" haircuts. What also helped was jamming after a meal I made for my folks: vegetable stir-fry with coconut milk, tofu, broccoli, onions, and yellow bell peppers, topped with fresh basil leaves on a bed of rice. Yummy. Washed it down with Spaten's Optimator. Oooo-weee! Man, listening to LPs with a full tummy hanging out with my parents and son on a super rainy day with a hint of the Optimator's buzz was kinda like Christmas. All the software works. Did a trial run, works nicely. The only things was the sound was clipping so we turned down the gain manually from the turntable. Oh, we purchased the ION TT-USB that's iTunes friendly.

Tuesday. It's going to suck going back to Colorado with the weather so beautiful as it was today. Mostly Sunny, high of 74°F. Took my old pal Ruby and my son for a 2 mile walk to burn off some energy sitting all day yesterday due to the thundershowers. After dinner, I helped my Dad figure out the bugaboos on ripping and burning on his new ION TT-USB onto the iTunes. It's all about hanging with my parents and father-son bonding on this go 'round. Didn't tell hardly any of my Texas chums I was coming down because the hours go so quickly and I don't ever want to regret NOT spending time with my folks (if you would've asked me in my twenties, it'd be a completely different story). Early afternoon, my Dad and I are going to check out a record store in Dallas. We're pretty much bitten by the LPs again. I'm eyeballing John Coltrane's A Love Supreme used on vinyl boi! After dinner Mason and I worked on some "worksheets" so that his brain won't go completely gelatinous whilst on vacation.

Wednesday was my Mom's birthday. We celebrated that joyous day by me making dinner and dessert. Dinner was fettuccine noodles in pesto with salmon flakes and dessert was from scratch carrot cake and the cream cheese icing. Not to toot my own horn but the dinner was pretty damned tasty y'all.
Driving around Dallas is pretty interesting. It's almost as nutty as SoCal driving. 4 lanes of people exceeding the speed limit by a good 10 mph. Aggressive but you get to where you're going pretty quickly. Started to pack the big stuff that evening. Was feeling a bit melancholy because as usual, we had a great time enjoying each others' company. I hate that penultimate day of leaving's feeling you get in your heart and head. We hit the hay early for the sake of quality REM time for a day's worth of mindless driving. It's that glucose deprivation thing you get because your mind has to be pretty darn alert...

While in Texas, it's been snowing like a banshee back in Colorado. In fact they got close to two feet of snow; and where we live the drifts pile up close to 5' high. The snow up there translates to rain here in Texas. I check the NWS site for the route and I'm expecting crap. When I woke up this morning it was gray and not the 100% chance of thunderstorms. I quickly packed up the rest of the junk into the truck to take advantage of the calm before the storm (it pays off because I get a text from my Dad saying they're getting hammered). After we said our goodbyes we hit the road. Hit all manner of weather out in the Texas panhandle. Finally settle in Dalhart; get some Chinese take out and we veg in our jammies (incidentally, it was by far, my most greasy take-out to date-yummy!)! My fortune cookie says,"

We'll get cracking by dawn...
My Dad lets me liberate one of the Spaten's for when we bed down. I do believe it's time for a Spaten. Grandad said the storm front's moving eastward, so by Friday (tomorrow, as I currently type), it should be clear but colder than the Western Front (a not so obscure WWII reference). Quick check at NWS' website and it's going to be sunny. Ah yeauh; bust out the sonnenbrille. As I flip channels I go to an MTV, reality love show and I swear, Ray J--not to be insulting--looks like one of my friends (Chip!). Raton Pass was a sheet of ice and the blowing snow on I-25 made for interesting driving but the snow sure was pretty. It's good to be in Colorado. I'm glad I took this old route back because I-70 (the route I took going to Texas) on the Kansas/Colorado border was shut down due to snow and blowing snow (still!).

We make it back to attend our daughters' parties at their elementary school; but I see the work that's ahead of me shoveling the snow out so that we can at least get to our house. Nutty but it's on par with October blizzards we usually get in Colorado. It's trick or treating at Grandma's Saturday. I'm going to enjoy the weekend before work starts up again Monday...

Hillbilly Weekend

Seeing that I totally blew off splitting wood until the September, freak-ish snow storm, that event reminded me to get my arse in gear and consequently I rented a hydraulic wood splitter this past weekend. Wasn't having a whole lot of luck renting because all the other hayseeds around me were doing the same thing until i called the last rental joint. It was also conveniently located 10 minutes from my house. What a fortunate break. The sucky thing was this past weekend was GLORIOUS weather-speaking. How would I spend it? Splitting wood in my worn-out steel toed Doc Martin industrial rated shoes, ear protection, straw Stetson hat and my overalls my li'brah gave me back in the day. Remember Captain Kangaroo's Mr. Green Jeans (yes, I'm dating myself)? I pretty much emulated that except inside the overalls think instead of a 5' 7" devastatingly handsome filipino wannabee competitive cyclist. All I need is a corn-cobb pipe, an ox named "Babe", and some banjo lessons to complete the hillybilly transformation...
I figured seven straight hours would do me completely in so I busted ass splitting as much of the "trunk" sized pieces of wood as opposed to the smaller stuff I could tear up using the mauler and chainsaw. When it was all said and done, I probably split 4 Toyota Tacoma pick-up truck sized beds (filled to the top!) worth of hardwoods (evergreens suck but they'll burn). We loaded two bed-fulls on Sunday next to our house and I'm guesstimating we have another two we can load up to stack next time. We better do it soon because the snowy season is pretty much upon us in the high-country (my Suunto altimeter says 8,500'); that was Saturday...
Sunday, my father in-law Bob whom unlike other peoples' in-laws, I actually think he's a badass, came over to help replace our small firebox-stove with the bigger, cast iron firebox (fireplace stove) in our barn (left behind from the previous owners). The latest one we have in our living room has an ill-equipped firebox volume rating deficit compared to the square feet it has to heat. Enter the stove from the barn. It's at least 2.5X more volume than the lame one in our living room.
We'da considered a pellet stove but that requires electricity. Where we live the snow malingers until April where freak, spring snowfalls are so heavy they snap trees in half which snap power lines, that leave us without electricity for days on end! So, while a pellet stove might seem practical, it won't do a thing without electricity. Our well pump runs on electricity too so once Mother Nature unloads her snow on us we keep a bathtub full of water just in case...
We take the barn from the stove to our house on an industrial grade dolly. Afterwards Melissa and I pick up the 200 lb "wimpy" stove from our living room outside. Okay, so while I consider myself to be fairly manly (at least manly enough to move a 200 lb stove with my wife), sadly I was not. When Melissa and I were moving the stove, I had to take these baby, shuffle steps and sadly I was the one to call "break" every 10 feet. Yes, I'm a wimp and one of the first signs is to publicly admit it...
Well kids! Seems like we're getting our ducks in a row to make this winter a smidge more manageable and hella more comfortable. Hella is a Système International d'Unités (i.e. a S.I. recognized unit). With the old firebox our living room would be barely in the sixties during winter. Now (albeit it's not the December deep-freeze), I can walk around in just my boxers and flip-flops and be actually warm. It's great. At night, we pack the firebox with wood and when I wake the house is still warm. Simply amazing. I wonder why we didn't get it done sooner (well, I actually know why: it's because I'm a talented and gifted procrastinator-that's why!).
I'm in Texas now visiting my parents and I forgot my cord to my digital camera so next time I'll show you the picture of our new stove. You gotta earn the privilege to be comfortable up here in the high country. I'll take this type of living any day though over city living back in Denver. Denver's nice; but not so much my thing anymore. It's quite a paradigm shift when you start bike riding conversations with, "Damn y'all, my chainsaw's the $hit!"

Crested Butte with Kevin and Dah-veed

This sign symbolizes my frame of mind for this weekend-no school.

The week leading up to this past Friday seemed to be the longest week ever. Seemed like the Space-Time continuum had a repetitive hiccup and instead of 24 h days, it seemed like 30+ h days. One of the main reasons were finals week at our HS. Being the nice teacher that I am I gave the kids who wanted to turn late stuff in the benefit of the doubt and I accepted it all without penalty. Not all the kids took me up on this offer but the ones that did certainly kept me busy to the very end. Another reason was proctoring and grading the district tests in addition to my comprehensive final exam on the last day. Damn, that was a busy week! My mind had only a singular event (preoccupation): Crested Butte! Friday comes and Kevin meets me up at my place and we BAIL (traffic was a biscuit do road upgrades)! My darling daughter makes me some cupcakes with a written note before we leave and I eat them with a warm, fuzzy feeling inside...

When we arrive at Dave's some 3.5h later, after eating a late dinner in Gunnison (and a trip to the liquor store to get a 12-pack of Left-Hand Brewery's finest Milk stout and a 22 ounce Black Butte porter) we doze off. David's house sits in front of the Taylor river, in a town right next door to Crested Butte. An amazing piece of property, home to a pretty amazing individual. Dave's like a poster child for Cabela's with a General Custer (minus his last stand!) veneer whose interior resides a Renaissance man o'sorts. Class act through and through...
Here's my truck with our Yetis in David's driveway the next morning.

Saturday has David committed to a wee bit of work so Kevin and I eat and warm up at the outdoor patio, next to the creek in downtown CB like our reptilian ancestors did some 315 million years ago at Izzy's (not eating at Izzy's mind you but the whole warm-up thang) and head up to Mount Crested Butte like pilgrims for our hajj to Schofield's Pass aka Trail 401. We could've parked closer to the trailhead but we started off with a slight to killer 11-mile uphill warm up on skinny 4X4 fireroads up Gothic.

We dressed for cold and thank goodness we brought it all up to Snodgrass mountain to stage. Cold ears are a deal-breaker so Kevin and I both wore our yamulca-inspired, under-the-helmet head-ears covering. We had thermal base layers, winter-weight jersies (Kev even brought a jacket), and leg warmers (coincidentally though we forgot our shorts and rode Free Willy-style--NOT!).

The road to Schofield's involves riding through open range, private territory where all manner of insouciant cows were grazing not knowing of their soon-to-be-leather-couch, consumable fates. I say that rather non-caringly about their fates but let me remind y'all I am exactly a vegetarian for that same cavalier remark I made about our bovinaceous, fire road companions. I take pictures of the East River on our bird's eye perspective northwesterly trek towards Trail 401.

It's October so we miss the highlights of the changing of the Aspens because most photosynthetic creatures have stopped the anabolic processes of synthesizing starch from recycled, biogeochemical nutrients made some 4 billion years ago with products made from cellular respiration thus resulting in their decided deciduousness weeks ago. What makes it visually stunning is the composition of almost cloudless blue skies, barren rock, and this purpley colored bush thingy sporadically placed all over the ground. It's surreally stupefying being surrounded by it all. In fact, I'm sure Kevin and I had copraphagic expressions on our faces while we adsorb this audio-visual-proprioceptive anomaly. On the way up we pass Emerald Lake.
After climbing for ages and portaging our steeds over fallen trees from fierce, recent windstorms we make it to the plateau atop Schofield's. It was also amazingly muddy in the tree covered areas with snow interspersed as well. Did I mention it was a wee bit chilly too? These fallen trees made going warp speed impossible because we'd have to stop once we got into the smoovy-smoove flow of our fall line. It reminded me of cross racing where once you got a head of steam going, there would be barricades for you to dismount to clear the obstacle. Nobody in my class can bunny-hop these things...yet! The downhill had sections of scree where you had to really pick your line or else you might lose traction and biff yosef. Other cool manmade shizzle on the trail were skinny bridges to cross over the creeks. Not a very technical downhill but the trade-off (for endorphin release) was picture perfect postcard scenery and the novelty of being in this high-alpine environment. It took us about three hours...

Later, back at Dah-veed's we made a dinner consisting of Salmon, corn-on-the-cob, salad and copious amounts of Milk Stout (a la Left Hand Brewery) and Black Butte Porter from the Deschutes Brewery from Oregon (Kev's home state).

The dinner punctuated what was to be-in all accounts-a pretty glorious day. Apres-dinner consisted of viewing Dah-veed's pictures he took when he was in Italy. A full tummy with a silly, monkey grin on my face added to my mass being firmly ensconced into my sleeping bag as I drifted off to La-la land...

Sunday brought high elevation snow showers and the signal for us to head on back to Monday's reality. Conspicuously absent this go 'round was Hez-Chilly and Javier DeSoto Kol-yur. That was a fun weekend kids...

Weekend Riding (and test riding a Superfly) before the Snow

This is the result of Monday's-today's-snowfall...
Went for a ride with teammate and general homeboy Kenny Saturday at Marshall Mesa in Boulder. His aging Specialized Enduro was needing a new owner that wasn't a weight-shaving, discriminating racer (he was racing well on a 30 lb steed). He ended up getting a 20 lb. (9 kg) or so Gary Fisher Superfly. I hear good things about 29'ers but haven't actually ridden one-until today (Saturday). You really can't take anybody's anecdotal evidence or read about other peoples' research and come up with a conclusion until you actually ride one (not in a parking lot). Gary Fisher prides himself with having geometry that puts everyone at ease at the cockpits of any one of their bikes. When I got on Kenny's (Kenny and I are of similar morphology) the stance my body was in was NOT significantly different than on my Yeti. I felt a bit higher but the angle of my lower back in relation to my pelvis and pedaling attack felt ahhhhite. As I pedaled there was a disconnect with the visual input my brain was registering from the rocky topography I was to expect and instead, my receptors from the contact points on the bike received a circa 1970 Cadillac-esque, buttery ride. In a skiing sense I was expecting hardpack input but all I got was a powder run. Very cool and my pedaling translated to instantaneous watts to the rear wheel. Practically speaking, a 29'er would be great for the majority of terrain I ride around here. On non-technical downhills it would absolutely slay! I would have a hard time on the long, technical downhills at Moab like Top of the World, some parts of Slickrock, bombing the downhill at Klondike Bluffs, and some parts of Moonlight Meadows. It would be okay at Sovereign. It might could be a beeyatch at the Firecracker 50 and some parts of the XC races at WinterPark. Around here though, it would reign supreme. I just got a new fork for my Yeti so it'll be awhile 'til I get one of these bad muthus. Doesn't make the trade-off for a dual suspension seem worth it for around here...
Later, I took Maura to her soccer game where she scored two goals! On one particular play (they don't call offsides at U-9 games), an opposing competitor was driving down the field and Maura chased him down and jammed-up his shot on their goal. She was awesome! The coach kept her in long than usual due to sick teammates and she was great! I love watching her play soccer. I think she has no greater joy than winding up a corner kick or blasting in a goal (and of course hanging out with her Dad). She would've had three if she had better aim. Elk season's here too and there was a big old bull Elk grazing right next to Maura's field (that's when I don't bring the camera). Soccer's not only an international game but has interspecies appeal as well...

Sunday, when the rest of Team M went to church I did the old Pleasant Park/Highgrade standard again. When they got back we went out for a hike at Lower Maxwell Falls in Evergreen. Mason's only 4 (quatre in metric units) but he hikes like a champ. I put him on my shoulders when the uphills get steep and technical but really he can hold his own. We had a snack at the waterfalls and headed back prematurely due to some cold precipitation. Had a lovely dinner with the family to end the weekend. Note to self: this is one technical singletrack! I'd like to ride soon but I'll have to wait until the snow melts.

WinterPark Labor Day Extravaganza

Team M went to WinterPark for the Labor Day weekend. It was extraordinary. The girls went to day camp while I, the cycling Dad, cycled whenever they finished each day. We stayed at a pretty cozy, somewhat luxurious condo. When the girls were busy Mason and I played at the playground, walked, chased each other, and talked. The playground here at WinterPark had a skateboard/bmx/scooter park. Here's a kid landing backwards after doing an airborne 360 coming off the lip of the tub.

That Saturday they had a teenage battle of the bands while simultaneously having a skateboard competition. It was great, free audio-visual entertainment and Mason was digging it (me too).
This kid won his age division.

When the girls got back, I rode a quick 40 miler battling a ferocious head wind on the way back because the weather was starting to change. From WinterPark I rode to Sol Vista-used to be called Silvercreek (to check out the Rocky Mountain Downhill Mountain Bike Regional Championships)-and back. Our condo had a sweet hot tub where my tender gams got some hydrotherapeutic lovin'. I was also launching Mason up and into the pool when I wasn't in the hot tub.

Being that WinterPark is more of a destination spot for off-road cyclists I ironically brought my road bike instead. I'm still feeling the effects from Tipperary (mostly psychological) and what the road bike offers is a type of zoning out/disconnect from the hassles of the day and places a white-noise alpha wave hum in one's cranium. It's simplistically soothing and it's almost an out of body sensation I experience when I ride at a slight tempo with no iPod, going solo, in the middle of the mountainous, continental divide (water drains either to the Pacific or the Atlantic here). No other drug compares to cycling's purity and mind-altering state. I can see why the whirling Dervishes go into a trance-like hypnotic state spinning themselves into a tizzy. Instead of me twirling my legs are, thus sending me into a dervish-like state of happy, happy, joy, joy. My whole body is acting as one and once everything is synchronized: breathing, leg spin, heartbeat-the holistic trifecta due to cycling-I am at peace. Skiing is a reasonable facsimile thereof...

Saturday we went to Grand Lake.

Grand Lake was made from glaciers several million years ago and is a tourist trap. It's right next to the RMNP. I remember grabbing some decent coffee at a coffee joint 10 years ago when Team M and friends camped out near Shadow Mt Lake. Sentimentally, it's still here and I order caffèlattes and we drink our beverages underneath some shade, geeking on all tourist variants. It was Funkfest 2009 too at the park but it was more of Lame-o-fest because of the (lack of) quality of the funkers. There's some innate proclivities I have for mountainous lake-side settings. The ultimate for me is the California side of Lake Tahoe. Like the (Nevada side) ski mountain says-"Heavenly". We stopped inside the Grand Lake Brewing Co. right off of main street and acquired not one, but two, 22 ounce bottles of toothsome, Plaid Bastard (scotch ale) to sensorily imbibe in this concoction of ephemeral, liquefied "heaven" (not only that but boy did it taste yummy!) during din-din.

Sunday, I rode up to the top of Berthoud Pass, where I got drizzled (Snoop Dogg's favorite form of precipitation) on just a bit at 11,000 feet (3446 m). ...
On the way back down I was in the downhill zone and passed a bunch of riders riding their brakes due to wet surfaces and being general scaredy-cats. Again we chilled poolside and later that evening I lost a game of Settlers of Catan. Not even close to winning.
Monday-Labor Day-was dedicated family time. The kids were digging the climbing wall (as was I thus resulting in my hammered forearms) and watching the people practice in the skate park.
After lunch, we went up to the ski mountain where the kids rode the alpine slide and did the bungee dealio.
As were walking towards the alpine slide, I commented to sweet Melissa that it'd be funny if we ran into Kevin and Nicole and their family. So as I was setting up for the action, alpine slide shot, a gal doing the same for her family said, "Mike!" Lo and behold it was Nicole waiting to capture her family on film. Cool. After Kevin completed his run, we chatted about our (lack of) performance at the Tipperary Creek XC event and planning a trip to Moab soon. My teammate and general homeboy Kenny called us to inquire about which 4-pack ski season pass we were going to acquire. Being at WinterPark, we said the WinterPark 4X. That reminded us to actually purchase the passes while we were there and for Melissa to purchase and own a pair of ski goggles that wasn't as old as our oldest child. I barely remember the days when he had passes (pre-kids).

Just being with the family (including Mother in-law and Brother in-law) was real meaningful and relaxing and reinforced our decision to have a family. I-as compared to most married males-like my in-laws. Y'all childless peeps out there if you think a relationship is trying, include multiple kids in the picture and you can see the law of averages for long term relationships hover 'round the 50th percentile. It takes work but the pay-off can be huuuge. We spent as little money as possible except when we didn't. Hanging poolside, riding, talking, drinking choice beverages and having premium family time?...excellent.

It reminded me how cool WinterPark used to be in my mind and how a little getaway with nothing really too planned out can go along way in recharging the body and reinforcing the meaningfulness of a family. Work really interferes with this...

Tipperary Creek and Koppenburg

Did Tipperary Creek. It kinda sucked because I cramped majorly after the end of one climb. Nutritional supplements don't help lack of riding fitness. It was fun though. Click here for the course profile/details of this challenging course. It's a one lap, 25.8 mile course with 4000 feet (1223 m)of climbing. From the get go we were flying and by the time I was in the single track I was probably top 15. It stayed that way for a while until I had the leg cramps of all leg cramps. Thought my climbing legs were too good to be true. Me being in the top 15 leaders that made the break from the beginning was for nought because about another dozen or so people passed me as I was doing my Fred Sanford walking imitation (both the quads and the hamstring of my left leg!). The downhill was crazy. There were people on both sides of the singletrack fixing flats due to the nastiness of the babyheads and tree roots. My poor hardtail couldn't hang with the dual boingers when the entire trail was strewn with rocks heading downhill at warp speed (o my god it was fun). It'd been pinch flat city. It was a wicked fun course. All manner of alpine rocks, roots and run-offs made for a fun day. Came in 28 out of 60 or so (the list stops at 50). This was Saturday.
Today was the Koppenburg (in Boulder). Here's why it's called the Koppenburg

The race is road cycling event with dirt road sections modeled after the infamous European Roubaix race. The 5.5 mile loop consists of a 2.5 mile dirt section that ends with a short but very steep hill. The 200 meter long "Koppenberg" hill has a 17% slope and takes its namesake from the legendary hill in the Tour of Flanders hill in the Tour of Flanders. The remainder of the course is rolling paved road. There are no dirt downhill sections and the entire course is rideable on a road bike which makes for a very safe course.

But don't be deceived last year's race proved to be difficult and a true test of attrition. The number of laps may be short, but between the climbing and dirt sections, its not as easy as it sounds. Good Luck !

I probably wouldn't've done it, but I registered on-line for it and it got snowed out (twice!). So the day after Tipperary Creek was the new date and I figured I paid for it, might as well enter.
From the gun we were cruising. In the dirt, sand bar sections made people's rear wheels all manner of squirrely; it made for pack riding a gigantic leap of faith to follow those wheels so darn close. The first gap formed the first time over the "hill". People who couldn't turn the pedals fell into other riders or spun out causing some major portaging going on. The leaders took off. Me and three other guys chased but I popped on one of the uphills. When the second group caught me I worked in there. After our pack dwindles to just the four of us we caught some people that got shelled from the leaders. So our four became seven. We noticed that a couple of people in our pack didn't take their fair share of pulls but we didn't yell at them or anything. After the 5th time up I said to our original three that we should regroup at the final climb and go like gang busters! Chris said he'd accelerate at the dirt road. At the dirt road, Chris took such a monstrous pull, he and Douglas had a sizable gap of about 20 meters and the gap kept increasing and I got dropped. I looked back at the other three and they were looking gassed so I dropped in the small cog and attacked as hard as I could to bridge. I caught 'em at the base of our last climb and we rocketed away. At the little climb before the stretch Douglas attacked and had a good gap. Chris kept him in sight and took an awesome uphill pull. As we crested, I came around him to catch Douglas's wheel. I motioned to Chris we should go hard left so that Darren couldn't catch our draft on the downhill but he caught us anyway. We were flying at the last, downhill right hand corner before the finishing line .5 kilometers away and Douglas took off again. He was marching such a huuuge gear, he cracked me before the finish line and that's when Chris came around me. It was a great weekend of racing and my legs are pooped!

Getting Ready for Tipperary Creek XC

Can't get in huge chunks of time on the bike nowadays but whenever I could, this week, I tried to squeak in an hour and a half every now and again. Saturday did Mt. Falcon in the blazing-a$$ heat! Did an hour and a half there. Not too technical but climbing in the heat's about a beeyatch. Sunday, squeaked one in while Mason was napping and after I vacuumed the house. Did a pretty intense climbing loop but that only took an hour and fifteen minutes. Today-my girls' first day of school-I got in another hour and twenty minutes at Mt. Falcon again. My girls were looking pretty snazzy on their first day of school. They were so excited they got up super early to get a head start on the day.
I felt pretty good climbing at Mt. Falcon, even with this annoying cold, and it was threatening rain the entire time so the weather was nice. It finally drizzled (Snoop-dog's favorite type of precipitation) at the top and made descending on the rocks oh so fun. I was in the zone though y'all. It was as if a phosphorescent green line appeared on the fall line beckoning me to follow the sweet line (of least resistance--obstacles) between the gnarly rocks with your knee's name written all over it. I was flowing so hard that I passed four people in dual suspension bikes on the way down not feeling it from their steeds and the phosphorescent line apparently hidden to them. It was shweeeet! Tipperary Creek's this Saturday. It's a tough race because of the altitude gains and a local masochist designed the course (but it sure is fun). 25 miles o'pain y'all.

On a sad note: RIP Charles Fuller-my Texas ex-pat, we will miss you. Etymologically speaking, you were a good egg.