Friday night ride(s) with the Homey Trinity

Last night was night riding night. Hez-chilly, Kev, and I--aka the Homey Trinity--rode last night. We were all sporting our lighting systems. Night riding is an whole body exercise in proprioceptive, self-control. What you take for granted day riding is what you need to be extra careful for at night. Scanning is of the utmost, not just of what's ahead but the hidden obstacles out of the range of the lights at the ground level. The cool thing is when your visual senses are on high alert, the watts applied to the legs via the neuro-muscular systems seem to go on autopilot. It's like powder skiing sort of-you see the contours of the snow ahead but your feet are currently submerged in the snow out-of-sight. Day riding gives you a commanding view what's coming up because everything-including peripheral vision is illuminated; night riding has a distinct cut-off created by my handlebar mounted L.E.D. system that creates a distinct visual boundary (e.g. the distinct cut-off H.I.D. car headlamps create at night-especially on curves). The ski adage: don't look that way or else you will (go that way-i.e. don't look at cliff boundaries) is especially fitting for night, mountain bike riding. Due to the dry conditions the boundaries of the trail (i.e. the sharp cutoff before you go careening down the mountain) are sketchy and super dusty. There was a couple of times I eyeballed the loose stuff on the edge of the singletrack too long and sho 'nuff my nearly bald front tire broke traction and I was heading down a slippery slope. I had to physically bunny-hop (or shift my whole weight via body english, gran mal-style) my bike back on the singletrack so I wouldn't biff it at low speeds.

When it was over it was very, very satisfying. 2.25 hours of pretty solid riding, probably 1200' feet of climbing? The weather was excellent and seeing the surrounding areas all lit up with a 360 degree panorama at the apex was surreal. The quarter-mile drag strips at Bandimere was lit up, as well as the motocross track made it seem as if we were overlooking a miniature train track setup. We all concurred that living in Colorado is a damn, beautiful thing!

Way Into the Off-Season

Yeah, we live nearby

Cycling is a priority but not quite as high up on the list as my daughters' soccer commitments. This weekend was in the Springs and thankfully not in Pueblo. Being in the Springs means that we can hangout with Melissa's Uncle and our cousins-which is always fun. For starters we got to see my cousin's-Casey-touring skills at the Olympic Training Center. He is one of the tour guides there. We hooked up with him for his 1:00 tour. When it was over we-including the rest of his tour group-all clapped for him. When we were leaving his Mom, Melissa's Aunt, said, "we love you!" in front of the tour group. It was too funny. Great tour; great presence from Casey.

Maura's team lost 4-2; but the cool thing was my daughter scored their two goals. Maricel's team lost as well but they're starting to gel-especially on defense. The weather was absolutely gorgeous both days. Fall in Colorado's absolutely stunning and super pleasant/mild. The rest of the Green family met us at Maricel's game; afterwards we hungout one last time at their house (in a cool neighborhood), said our farewells and headed back home.

Sunday, Melissa ran the Neder-Nederland 10K and when she came home I did the Highway 73 to S. Brook Forest to Shadow Mountain back to 285. Another absolutely gorgeous pre-Fall Sunday. Climbed about 2000 feet (609m) in 30 miles in 1h and 47 mins. 32 minutes of descending and an hour and 17 minutes of climbing. It was pretty steep in some places where I had to stand. Wasn't used to that since mentally I've been in the off-season for quite some time-even have hair back on my legs! The weather wasn't even 70° F (20°C)! Absolutely gorgeous.
Here's 285 heading North as seen from our flyover...

Highway 73 connects Conifer to Evergreen, a pretty popular route on the weekends

On the downhills you can go as fast as the cars; on the switchbacks you can go faster.
Here's S Brook Forest, part of it goes through a National Forest.

Climbing, climbing, and more climbing


At 9,000 feet (2743m) the Aspens are starting to change.

On the last big downhill, I got behind a delivery truck and drafted him back to Shadow Mountain. He lost me on the flats where I couldn't maintain his speed. My max speed was...

(or 81 kph)
Here's Shadow Mountain

Not too bad. I definitely have no endurance but it is after all the off-season. Thinking about doing cyclocross though. It's less than an hour for my category.
Great way to start the week (ending for some countries): my Texas won (and consequently I won a wager) and we hungout as a family watching my daughters play soccer-and did I mention it's pre-Fall weather in Colorado?

Labor Day

A slight change in plans. Instead of going with Team M to WinterPark the boys are homebound watching the house and dogs and doing Father and Son things. The weather couldn't be any more beautiful. Mornings being in the high 30's, how refreshing is that (it's pretty damn chilly if you're not up for it)? Pretty durn refreshing. The girls left yesterday so it's the Moose and me hanging out for the Labor Day weekend extravaganza of prosaicness and outliers.

We hit Flying J ranch. The scenery here at 8,000 feet plus is just nothing to take for granted (even though I do see this park almost every other day). First up was to take the doggies out for a walk. The singletrack here is beneath a canopy of thickly settled lodgepole pines so even in the middle of the day there is still plenty of shade with just some spots exposed. I let the dogs sniff away as we roll. I'm sure it's such a luxury for them with their otherwordly olfactory system to sniff at leisure at all the wild stuff Flying J has to offer. They're hyper from the gun but once we settle into a rhythm they kinda just walk side-by-side on the single track with Mason and me talking up a storm as much as a 5 year-old can contribute (come to think of it, my conversational skills are kinda lacking too). As we hike, some young kid on a skateboarding helmet riding with his Dad biffed it on some loose sand on the apex of a downhill turn. Nothing spectacular but I asked if he was okay and he was. I commented to the Moose on when we get back we should ride here being that the singletrack is so mild (except for said kid), topographically speaking, I kind of talked up doing a mountain bike ride for Mason. He seemed interested and once we got back to the house, we ate, I loaded the Moose's bike in my truck, and I wore my trailrunners (I would be his human outrigger just in case).

The first part's a loose downhill so I ran right next to him to make sure his front tire wouldn't wash nor his rear tire would slide past. So far so good and I'm pushing his shoulders up the climb as I run alongside him. That's pretty much the M.O. On the flat stuff he takes off. I'm imagining he's digging the way the wind feels against his face and hair and the occasional whiff of pine sap. He's instinctively avoiding the conspicuous obstacles (except when he doesn't). Every time we pass hikers going the opposite direction one if not all always holler words of encouragement to my five year-old mountain biking prodigy (he's my son afterall...). Next comes the cut-off to the shortcut. I shouldn't ask, but I do, and of course he takes me up on it. He could've done the full loop but I didn't want his first time off-road to be a chore. Next time, I say, we do the longcut instead of the shortcut okay? Like a good Moose, he always says okay Dad. Afterwards it's a caramel shake, a limeaid, and some artery clogging onion rings at the local Sonic for rewarding such a trooper. Never complained and came close to crashing several times in the loosey-goosey stuff (and that was just me!).

For our evening's entertainment we watch Toy Story 3 at the discount movie theatre. The Last Airbender was playing too but everybody and their brother gave that movie a pretty crappy review (even though I dig M. Night Shamalan).

So far so good Labor Day. I'm avoiding grading so far but eventually I'll do it (yuck!).

Monday. How many more times can one go to Flying J? Well if the one is us, another time! Took the doggies again since I feel so guilty for not taking 'em out during the work week.

A cold front's settling in as a forest fire begins out in Fourmile canyon in Boulder. Hopefully this brief front'll retard the growth of the fire.
It was another absolutely gorgeous day here in Paradise. In the mornings I'm starting to feel the bite of Fall. Speaking of mornings, when Mason and I were eating biscuits and (vegetarian) gravy as I was reading about Dublin in the NYTimes Travel Section, sweet Melissa told me about her singletrack soiree out in WinterPark. She's getting back into mountain biking (that's always a good sign!). Then old man Winter'll visit us. Not looking forward to that. In fact, I'm helping out Grandpa and Scotty for our potential cords this Winter.

Started to grade this evening. Work's reality has inopportuned itself on my vacation minded self.

Reason 342: Living in Colorado...

...would you rather wake up to this

or some sidewalk cafe on your second espresso reading the newspaper Sunday morning? Okay, both are fine actually but I chose the former this morning. Hez-Billy my colleague and general homeslice got me addicted to the Mayhem Gulch + full loop out at this wonderful trailhead/open space called Centennial Cone. Been a while since I've posted anything blog worthy. Work and being a Dad's pretty hardcore time wise; but like anything else it's balance Daniel-san.

The ride was great! Been running nowadays though. Shifting disciplines. Running's a highly concentrated form of pain that physiologically for me equals hours on a bike. Getting ready to run a 10k at altitude. Gotta get my running gait on! Gotta stay busy so when ski season rolls around I'll be doing my imitation of an Asian Johnny Moseley (minus the dinner roll and Olympic caliber mogul runs). I rode with my iPod. There's nothing like riding something as picturesque as Centennial Cone at 8:00 in the morning and the weather's barely 60°F (16°C) and when you hit (shuffle) play and the first song on the batter's deck's the Who's 5:15 (I love it when Roger Daltrey sings, Quiet stormwater, M-m-my generation). Audio-visual Christmas! I am fired up and climb Mayhem Gulch in the middle ring standing whenever the ups get a tad busy. It starts at 6500' (1981 m) and tops out at 7560' (2304 m) but in between there's a lot of sawtooth climbing (and descending) so you probably climb 1500' (457 m) or so whenever everything's said and done. Here's the parking lot from my perspective after being inspired by the Who. That's Clear Creek running parallel to the road. Back in the day, people used to pan for gold down thar.

I'm getting nearer the the top. Nobody out on the trail 'cept me singing my arse off not giving a crappizzle about people hearing (like I said, ain't nobody out here).

Part of the singletrack skirts the rim/cone of centennial park.

It's simple: stay towards the mountain...

The day before, Team M went down to Pueblo for my daughter's soccer game. It was 99° F in the shade! Thank goodness for altitude and beautiful Colorado Sundays.

Brian Greene's a proponent of the multiverse theory and for me it's a reality. Working's a reality (I'd rather not do it honestly but it keeps me honest and accustomed to a certain quality of living), being a bike racer's a reality (although my arse gets handed to me come race day), being a hillbilly's a reality (preparing firewood for winter and a certain proficiency in snow removal in Winter's at 9000 feet), being a parent and husband's another reality too. What I'm trying to say is my multiverse theory's a reality for me, each needing my collection of sub-atomic particles arranged in physical, chemical laws to react producing a reality that calls for attention (albeit being a father and husband has to take precedence over bike riding but my sweet Melissa might differ from that!). I ride to fulfill that persona in my cycling universe. It's not escapism but a reality. Overall, it's not that bad.

An Old Friend and (road) Miles

My old friend Rob, a collegiate cycling teammate of mine and long time friend vacationed in Colorado this past week. We used to hang out a bunch back in Austin and the last time we hung out was in Crested Butte around 1998? He's now married to a pretty cool mate and they have a family with two boys living in the Texas Hill Country, not too far from where we went to University. I met up with him in a tiny town called Empire (elevation 8614', 2685 m) down from Berthoud Pass. We were going to ride up Berthoud Pass, elevation 11, 304' (3445 m) into WinterPark (el 9052', 2780 m) and onto Fraser/Tabernash (el. 8574', 2613 m).

The climb up was sunny, a little windy, slightly chilled, but shaping up to be another perfect Colorado day. Sunny and not HOT.
Here we are, up 11,307'. The sign's right next to the PortaPotty and it was sting-keee!



We blasted the downhill and rode up the rears of some cars and Rob was ready to pass 'em down the middle of the two lanes. We hit 50 mph (80 km/h) on the descent to WinterPark. We were near the last of the switchbacks and we big ringed the ride into WinterPark taking turns drafting. We stopped at Rocky Mountain Roastery for an espresso and a pastry. Talked some and finished the goods and we're off to Fraser/Tabernash. We exit off of Fraser and ride some dirt roads to a nearby po-dunky ski area. We pull a return trip once it starts to climb.

Back in WinterPark we stop at the Cheeky Monk to replace our electrolytes for the climb back up Berthoud, down into Empire. Here's our drinks: non-approved per UCI.

Rob hiding the banned substance(s)...

We were buzzing good from greater than or equal to 8% alcohol contents in our drinks. Chit-chatting up a storm and the buzz slowly evaporating as the climb gets interesting. Rob shows his Cat II form on a climb and dispatches me. He waits at the top and we bomb it back to our cars. Not getting too sentimental but it was great seeing and riding with him again. Trying to talk him and his family to move out here...

So far, here's what I have to show for with all this riding. Don't let the funky tan lines fool you, I still need more miles...

Dave Matthews Band and Ithaca

The day began going up to Cornell University, my sweet Melissa's Law School alma mater. Upstate New York is vastly different from what most people think about when they think of New York. Upstate's very green and hilly, with towns and villages (that's what it said on their speed limit signs-village!), interspersed pretty randomly, connected with super, skinny roads that makes it even more dangerous at night, when it's raining. Thank goodness we had a Garmin GPS that revealed the twisty roads to us because we didn't bring any local maps.

The main campus is built on rolling ground overlooking Cayuga Lake.

This was my first time to visit an Ivy League school and the first department we checked out was the Law School. Cornell's not that huge so all the structures reflect the lower student volume. Very stately Law Library and the classrooms were either small or slightly larger than small. Not the 200+ seating we had in my upper division Biology classes at the University of Texas at Austin.

Excellent academia vibe within the class and all the technology accompanying it. The classrooms still contained greenboards but the projectors and speakers technology for presentations were everywhere. All the classrooms had stately wooden chairs and desks/table rows with outlets for laptops, all standing on plush, dark slate colored carpet. Very earthy colors construction with windows.

The Law Library looked like a scaled-down version of the great hallway in a Harry Potter film. Cavernous with stained glass lamps and windows letting in copious amounts of natural light. The thick, oak doors had dark leather padding on both sides with its perimeters studded in brass tacks.

Here's the hanging judge in the mock trial courtroom...



Walked around the Commons in downtown Ithaca and ate at the Moosewood Restaurant (in fact, we have two cookbooks from this restaurant). This is a vegetarian restaurant sweet Melissa used to frequent as she worked for her JD some 17 years ago. Washed down my meal with a super hoppy concoction from Ithaca Beer Company named CascaZilla.


In the evening we drove 2 hours, one-way out to Bethel, NY to watch the Dave Matthews Band perform along with their Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King band mates (Tim Reynolds-Guitar, Rashawn Ross-Trumpet, and Jeff Coffin-saxes and pennywhistle). Needless to say it was an amazing show. Dave covered a song from another one of my favorite singer/songwriters Daniel Lanois, entitled The Maker. If you've never seen DMB you're missing a super special, audio-visual, talented, jamming treat. We got back home by 2 am driving at night in upstate NY crazy roads. Thank goodness for our Garmin. It was a great conclusion to a great day, hanging out with my sweetie and listening to one of our most favorite bands perform live on vacation nonetheless.

Provincetown, Herring Cove Beach, Race Point Beach, Province Lands Trails

Deeem boys and girls; it's HOT, 熱,heet, chaud, heiß, καυτός, caldo, 熱い, 뜨거운, quente, горяче, caliente...etc. Get it? Oh man, the East Coast heatwave's in full effect and our Colorado bodies aren't used to it although we're tough like that and after all, we are on vacation. Can you say, "ozone alert?" I knew you could...
So kids it's off to Provincetown! Home of such distinguishing features as Herring Cover Beach, Race Point Beach, and the meandering and rolling hills of Province Lands Trails. Our M.O. of getting off to a late start is consistent and by the time we're off to rent mother in-law's Mongoose mountain bike, the sun is high overhead ready to radiate its powerful ultra-violet rays to our already leathery bodies due to overexposure. Provincetown is a colorful area. It's the Cape Cod version of San Francisco. One of P-town's mottoes are: Welcome to Provincetown: Where Gay Life is Everywhere. I'm not a card carrying member of the NRA, or Focus on the Family, or the Boy Scouts so I'm not homophobic just apathetic mostly. The vibe was cool, your typical beachy, pandering to the tourists kind of gig except in smaller doses.
The first thing on the agenda was to ride the 7 miles, of the steep and rolling Province Lands Trails: dunes, scrub oak, vistas, and the crucible of riding in sweltering heat was too much to pass up, so off we go! Pilgrim's Monument was there but we blew it off for riding and essential beach lounging. Since my five year-old son's riding a singlespeed, I ride next to him and push him on his back up the super steep stuff. This is like my interval workouts back home so I don't mind and like I said, we're tough like that. After many breaks and attempting to find a lighthouse off of Race Point Beach (to no avail), we end up at the overlook at the Ranger station. There was a flourishing forest here but the Pilgrims exhausted the flora (as well as some of the fauna) in order to colonize. So the forest are gone but you can see how the sand dunes provide the foundation.


We're hurting and Team M has just ridden 7 miles of steep, rolling blacktop so we're gonna stick our bodies in the Atlantic Ocean for heat transfering in the form of conduction. That place is Herring Cove. Look how clear the Atlantic is on this beach. The sand is hot and super rough so again it looks like we're walking on a bed of hot coals as we shuttle our bodies to and from the Atlantic from our towels on the beach. The water's pretty righteous feeling against our heat exhausted masses. Here're the kids blasting each other with bucket loads of water during a water fight. After the Pilgrims landed here in Provincetown Harbor they cruised across Cape Cod Bay and settled in Plymouth Rock. On our way out of Provincetown we drove through the colorful, downtown Commercial Street to head back to Chatham.