ChuckC43

Wake-up Call

2011-09-24T17:58:00.000-07:00

Last Wednesday I did what I have been doing for the last three years during the riding season, leaving work an hour early and hitting the mountain bike trails. I hit one of my favorite local mtb trails, Mt Falcon. Mt. Falcon is located near Morrison, Colorado and the trial is a difficult one. The first 3 miles or so are steep and hard, but one thing I look for in a ride is a good leg workout. After one gets up to the first picnic table, the hardest part is over. I always head over to the Parmalee Trail, which is another mile or so. Then it takes about another half hour to traverse that trail and connect back to Castle Trail which leads back to the parking lot.
If going uphill is the work, heading down is the payoff. I have probably ridden down this trail ten or so times. But there is always an element of danger, from either the speed or the many rock gardens that pepper Castle Trail. This day I almost endo-ed during one rocky section, but somehow dodged that rocky bullet. Later on, I wasn’t so lucky. I was going maybe, no maybes about it, going too fast and around a corner was an uphill rider. Uphill riders get the right-of-way, so I tried to avoid crashing into him. But for some unknown reason, I ended up heading straight towards him. My instincts must have led me to squeeze the brakes, including the front brake. That reaction caused my front wheel to slide out, right in front of this guy. What followed next is hard to remember. All I know is my forehead hit the ground. I was wearing a helmet, which I always do when riding downhill and the front of it took most of the impact. It was a hard hit and I ended up with dirt and gravel in my helmet and mouth. As I stood up, the other rider asked me a series of questions; was I alright? Didn’t I see him? Was I alright? I mumbled something to the effect that I was and glad I didn’t run into him and also said that I just ruined a brand new bike helmet. He rode off and after shaking the dirt out of my helmet and forehead, and noticing the bleeding left knee, continued on.
The scary parts of this crash were that it happened so fast, it seemed very violent, especially the part where my upper face planted into the ground and that I wasn’t even sure if my right foot released from the clip-less pedal ( I should have adjusted the shoe before heading down). My neck has been hurting since that day, even after my chiropractor adjusted me yesterday. It doesn’t hurt real badly, just enough to make me realize that it could have been worse. I plan on riding again next Wednesday, but I will definitely be going slower on the next descent. And I am very thankful the Lord protected me during this

Road Trip Day 2

2011-06-13T08:26:00.001-07:00

Leg 2 is Moab to Las Vegas and we fail to pull it off with out a hitch. The stretch between Richfield and St. George is always tricky gas mileage wise, even more so on a motorcycle. Ben was pushing the pace which included wind, and hills. We were about twenty miles from St. George when Mikeal zoomed up and pointed down to his gas tank...meaning his bike was thirsty. Then Ben noticed his cycle was also craving the petro drink, so we quickly pulled off the exit to Hurricane. Both realized they needed gas and fast. Thanks to Ben's trusty smart phone app, he located a station about 6 miles away. So we headed east towards Hurricane, UT. Sure enough we came to a Sinclair. Whew, that was too close for comfort. The nearly dry motorbikes obtained their octane and we continued on to Vegas after sneaking in a quick lunch stop at Wendy's.
We went ahead and stopped at St. George to top off and it was there we knew we had arrived in the desert. From here on out, we were going to bake.
And bake we did, all the way to Vegas.

Road Trip 2011

2011-06-11T19:35:00.000-07:00

This year's trip includes friends Ben and Mikeal. As much as I wanted to get in a 13 mile run before leaving this morning, I opted to spend my time with the wife and also packing. Truth is the annual road trip is a highlight of the year and my training run didn't seem all that important this morning.
After Ben and I met Mike at the gas station off Colfax and I-70, we started our ride to Moab. I looked a little out of place with my full-face helmet and heavy gloves compared to my Harley riding friends. But I knew riding over the mountain passes usually involves cold weather. And sure enough. I didn't regret wearing my attire.
Because our cycles can only ride around 180 miles on a tank of gas, our first gas stop was Glenwood Springs. We also grabbed a bite to eat. Then it was on to Grand Junction. The weather was warming up and we aimed to remove some layers when we hit the next stop. It was 84 degrees in Grand Junction and I was down to jeans and a t-shirt and my half-helmet. I also slathered on some sunscreen. The next exit was Cisco, a really small one-dog town that leads to highway 128...a very scenic route to Moab. The long 43 mile route included some amazing scenery but also some hot weather. It doesn't help that we were riding on top of large motorcycle engines. Another thing we noticed was how full the Colorado River is on the western slope and beyond. I've never seen it so full. It's got to become a problem if it gets fuller. There were parts of the Glennwood Canyon bike trail and the trail next to highway 128 that were submerged under water...weird.
Anyhow, we made it to Moab, our first leg. Next one is to Las Vegas.

Motorbiking

2011-04-01T19:47:00.000-07:00

This morning I rode my motorcycle to work, which is not unusual. I opted to leave my helmet at home, just cause I didn’t want helmet hair when I got my haircut after work. It’s dangerous to not wear one but other things could happen in a cycle accident, any way the point is, there is something about the “freedom” of riding with no brain bucket. You can hear the motorbike engine as you ride, the sound of the engine, in this case all 1600 cc’s. It’s a sweet sound and it meshes with the feel of the ride. For example, as I turned on highway 85 and twisted the throttle, it was and always is quite a feeling. It’s hard to explain unless you’ve experienced it. But the power as the wrist turns the accelerator is exhilarating, it’s a rush. That’s one reason you’ll never see a motorcycle in front of a psychiatrist’s office building…unless it’s the psychiatrist’s bike.

Can’t Plan For That

2011-02-13T17:22:00.000-08:00

Well, last Sunday I ran the years’ first half marathon. I had caught a cold the Saturday before, probably had something to do with my immune system being weak from my 14 mile training run that morning. I thought for sure the cold would have run its seven day course and be gone by race day morning/ No such luck, after getting to bed early, my cough kept me from getting the needed sleep I would need the next morning. Then it (the cough) woke me up early as well.
After debating on whether to get up, I knew I should and try and beat the other thousands of runners vying for a parking spot on the residential streets near the start line. Turns out that by getting to the area (Chicago St. and Huntington St.) I had scoped out the day before by 5:40 AM was one of my best moves all day. Had I got there just ten minutes later, I would not have been so fortunate. I headed down to the start around 7 AM and it was there I noticed I had forgotten to put my racing chip on my shoe. So over to the Solutions Desk I went and for a measly five more dollars, they hooked me right up. Back to the start and into the second wave where my predicted finish time of 1:43:49 would start. As usual, the start line was a sea of people. At 7:48 AM, off we went.
I had wanted to run a smarter race but was shocked at my first mile split, 8:20, I thought, crap, get moving or you’ll be here all day. So I cranked the throttle a little more. Second split was a little better, 8:10, but I pushed it a little more. It was foggy, so it would be safe to say my head was in a fog, ha ha, so was everybody else’s. I wasn’t coughing and didn’t feel all that bad, at least not until around mile 10. I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, something fluttering up about three feet above my head. What was that, I asked myself and I turned to look. It was the 1:50 pacer’s flag. The stinking 1:50 pace group was passing me by. I was so demoralized by that scenario that it took me a minute to soak it all in. I didn’t know if I should quit or just trip the guy. I was not going to let him get too far out of my range, I determined, as I slowly watched him run out of site in the ensuing mile. Still, I pushed it as hard as I could. Then I started getting “pain notices” from my right thigh and left ankle. What was that all about, those two areas never hurt during a race? I promptly ignored the pain, at least as much as I could and kept running.
I came up on the finish line at my watch said my time was 1:51:47, so much for beating my finish time from two years ago. The finish line pictures I just looked at show my face somewhat drained of color. Running 13.1 while sporting a cold, not priceless but painful. Of course you really can’t plan for that. No one wants to get sick let alone right before an out-of-town race. As Bronco fans like to say, maybe next year.

Race Day

2011-02-05T19:37:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow I “get” to run another half marathon. It will be the first one of the new year. It’s also another chance to run this race better than two years ago. That time I took off like a crazy man, thinking that training a mile high and running at sea level allowed me to run like a kid in a candy store, meaning I felt really strong. The strategy worked fine until I hit mile twelve, when the tiger in the tank, well, left. For the next 1.1 miles, I ran in the slowest motion my legs could muster and still be considered running. If you looked at the finish line pictures the race posted on their site for sale, you could see the pain in my face. That pain was actually shooting up straight from my legs and my face was like a monitor which reflected all the pain. I might be exaggerating a little here.
The forecast is for temperatures in the seventies for the day, more like the fifties when my wave starts. There are about 13,000 runners registered for the race…that’s a whole bunch of half marathoners. The only caveat about this race, my race, is that I caught a little cold last Saturday. I didn’t get to run ALL week, so, I am not sure what will happen out there tomorrow but I’ll find out.
I just found out Cade is sick now, along with my daughter. Sickness is one of the parts of life that makes this life crappy. Sure it builds our immune systems but dang it, the suffering, the puking, it stinks…literally. It stinks to get sick one week before running a race. However, in the grand scheme of things, they’re all just light afflictions which last for only a “moment”.

Thanksgiving 2010

2010-11-25T19:11:00.000-08:00

Today, I have a lot to be thankful for. First off, my son-in-law is alive and well in Afghanistan. I know it sucks out there for him but considering his circumstances, at least he is okay. Another thing, the Father continues to watch over his family. Kele’s boys are awesome. Asher is so attentive to his surroundings, just like his older brother was at Asher’s age. Cute, too, such beautiful kids…they are here this week and Cayden is so fun. I get to play with him and he gets to watch football with me. He is sharp, as I always say, and not just because he can identify four football teams from their helmets. He knows the Broncos, Bears, Saints and Vikings. His best buddy's favorite team is the Vikings.
We’re all working and able to pay our bills, definitely something to be thankful for during these tough economic times. Our health is good, at least from what we can tell. Our family is intact. Our parents are doing well. Our cars are reliable and the winter hasn’t arrived yet. I am maintaining a B average in school with about 3 weeks to go for the semester.
I’m still running, mountain biking and pumping (a little)iron. I had the means to get a full suspension bike. It’s so fun coming down a mountain and a great workout going up. The Northglenn Rec Center got the vote they needed in this year’s elections. The Bears are in first place and the Saints are on a roll.
So today, I thank You Lord for all the blessings. Happy Thanksgiving.

10 to 10

2010-10-02T18:42:00.000-07:00

Wow, evidently baby Asher couldn’t wait to join the world. Albeit, according to Karen, there were some tense moments before and during his entry. But God is good and everything worked out. Belle wanted him to join us next Sunday but instead his birth date kinda looks like a football score. Welcome little guy, you have a pretty awesome big brother. He’s as smart as a whip. Your mom is also a pretty awesome mom, too. Then there’s your dad. You’ll like him, once the Father gets him home safely from serving his country. And there is more, but you already know most of their voices…like your granny Karen and Auntie Brianna. They showed up at the right time to assist your arrival. I can’t wait to meet you.

Life Goes On But...

2010-09-19T06:30:00.001-07:00

Here it is, almost the end of September. It’s 5:10 PM in Kandahar and I wonder what my son-in-law is doing as I offer another prayer of safety for him. Some of the stories I have heard of Kele’s “adventures” are scary, imagine what it’s like for him and his wife. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have to be aware of your surroundings 24/7, for the sake of your lively hood. I often wonder how the year will change him.
My nephew (in-law) Dustin survived his horrible scooter accident and is now home…thanks Lord. Daughter number two is about to have her second child. Not sure how she will handle the new addition with a very active almost three-year old but if anyone can, she will be able to…with a little help from her friends (and family). Speaking of which, my little grandson, what an awesome kid. After he told me, while I was pulling into a parking lot space, that I was a “horrible parker”, I have noticed that he might be right. It was strange to hear that come out of his mouth; he’s such an intelligent boy, usually quite aware of what’s going on around him, unless of course, he’s watching something like Dora, the Hispanic Explorer.
Despite these major events going on in our little circle of life, for most of us, life goes on. The daily routine fills our weeks and months. The seasons come and go and for me this “season includes another semester in school. It’s funny how much I love learning something new, something that I am interested in anyway. This semester it’s project management, something I should be able to use in my job. There’s so much to learn about the topic, no wonder it has grown into quite the profession. My class is on Monday nights, not a good thing during football season. My class project team includes four men from India. They are pretty smart guys, they were all in the same class I had last semester. It should be interesting.
I am also enjoying my second season of mountain biking. It’s still a blast, still really tough at times. I still crash but so far only minor ones, just scrapes and bruises. I do need to get a full-suspension bike though; the hard-tail I ride really takes its toll on my old frame. The trails tend to get a bit worn down by this time of the year or maybe it’s just that certain trails contain exposed tree roots or a lot of rocks (this is the Rocky Mountains, you know). I did the 25 mile Kenosha Pass to Georgia Pass ride again a couple of weeks ago and got pretty beat up on some sections. I felt like one of those bobble head dolls. Last year I mentioned that it was the hardest physical exercise I had ever experienced. This year, it was more of the same. I didn’t think I would be able to finish. My stomach felt sick due to all the energy bars and drinks I had consumed and my legs were wiped out from my half marathon I had run the Monday before. But somehow I was able to grind it up the last hills and bobble head my way back to the parking lot. At least the weather was good, no snow or rain this year.

IT Manager Goes Coastal in California

2010-06-17T16:48:00.000-07:00

Well, it fits doesn’t it? What’s a road trip to California without a stop at In-N-Out Burger? Spent the first night out in Costa Mesa enjoying the NBA Finals with about a hundred Laker fans, thanks to the Celtics getting blown out, I did not see any reason to come out of the closet. Then the next night was a small adventure. I figured I would ride the bus down to Newport Beach and have dinner then catch it back. Trouble was, I found out the next bus at the nearest stop wouldn’t be there for another thirty-five minutes. Heck, I knew I could almost make it there walking in that time. So down Old Newport Boulevard I went. Saw some buildings and things I wouldn’t have seen had I not gone that way, then some forty-five minutes later I was down by 23rd Street. I scoped out the bus stop for route 71 and headed to a spot for dinner.
After dinner I walked to the bus stop. The sign said the next bus would be by at 8:20 PM, some twenty-five minutes away. Well, that stupid bus never came and by 8:40 PM I figured I would have to hoof it back to the motel. Man was I steamed. It was probably only three or four miles, which is nothing when you’re running but walking…it seemed far. Good thing I didn’t see any rough neighborhoods on the way back. Least I got plenty of exercise and surely burned off my dinner.
This morning after breakfast, I headed for Carlsbad up Coastal Highway 1. Beautiful ride, at least what you can see while keeping a wary eye on those California drivers. I remembered why I like riding so far, the scenery. Had a delicious bowl of clam chowder for lunch, then a nice hour long run along the beach, a couple of hours later...coastal (at least for a few days).

Road Trip

2010-06-14T20:47:00.000-07:00

Day 1
Well, I headed off on my annual motorcycle road trip. Registered for a half-marathon in Frisco, so that was the first stop. The plan was to work through lunch, and leave around 3:30 PM. Surprisingly, my boss happened to see my “packed” motorbike at work and offered to let me leave early…which I took him up on. I had been keeping an eye on the weather so I knew I would probably hit some rain down the I-70 Interstate, I just didn’t know when or how much.
It was right before Idaho Springs that the rain drops started falling. I had opted not to dawn my rain gear yet, so all I had on were my leathers. Then bam, the rain came down in buckets. I debated on seeing how far I could make it when a car passed by and drenched me. After thinking some unkind thoughts towards the driver, I exited off the next exit and pulled under a gas station canopy. Soon after, another biker joined me. We talked about the rain and where we were heading. He was going east while I was heading west. I pulled my rain gear on and waited for the rain to stop and then headed east. Thankfully, the sun broke through. I made to Frisco without further drama.
It was the next day that I found out from a fellow runner that it had hailed real badly around 4:30 PM near Evergreen. In other words, all hail broke loose, so bad this guy said, that cars were pulling over. What grace from the Father, to move in my boss’s heart and actions to get me past the hail before it fell. It was so deep that snow plows came out to plow the interstate. Whew, God’s providence is awesome.

Day 2
Saturday I woke up to run the Run the Rockies half-marathon. While I debated if I was going to run in shorts or tights, looking out the motel window assisted in the decision. The sun was shining but it was raining. Good enough forecast (nowcast) for me. It would be tights and a rain jacket. At eight-thirty the race started and I headed down from Copper Mountain, through the rain. I’ve run this race before, unbeknownst to me as to why, since it’s difficult. Miles eight and eleven are uphill…ouch. Anyway, I wasn’t too unhappy with my slow 1:54 finish time, as I needed to save some of my energy for the predicted 7 hour ride before me.
After the race I hurried back to the motel to shower and load up the motorbike. Checkout was 10 AM and I was pushing the 1 hour extension.Now came the fun part, the eight hour ride to Cedar City, UT. I hit the first rain storm heading to Copper. Vail was sunny then another rain cloud wetted me. To make a long story short, I ended up getting tired of counting the rain clouds/storms I bumped into. I even hit about 20 seconds of hail, right outside of Richfield. Eventually I made it to Cedar City and found my motel. After getting into the room, I blasted the heater and draped my wet clothes all over it and the room. It wasn’t the best road trip weather but the Lord got me through it unscathed and I lived to drive another day!

Day 3
I slept late (7:30 AM) then showered and hit the continental breakfast. Some older guy (much older than me) was wiping off his 1967 Ford Fairlane, from the rain that had fallen. After checking the forecast, I packed my rain suit and headed to Las Vegas. Rumor was it was only a little over two hours away but there was no way I could have made it the night before. Good thing was, I didn’t hit any rain. The scenery reminded me why I take these road trips…beautiful.
Later that day I headed towards the Las Vegas strip. You would expect (at least I did) that not many people would be there on a Sunday night. Wrong, plenty of people and traffic, my poor motorbike didn’t like the heat even at 8:45 PM. So I turned her around and headed back to Jim’s house.

Day 4
So much for cold rainy weather, Vegas started off warm and headed to the mid nineties. After meeting Bub downtown, I headed towards the strip again and Frank’s grave. Traffic is ALWAYS backed up on the strip and today was no exception. My Kaw got hot again and I had to exit off the strip early. Some yo stopped in the middle of the turn. I had by “chance” changed lanes right before that. The guy driving behind this confused guy had to slam on his brakes. I once again, thanked the Father for His protection. Then I headed to where Frank’s earthly body is buried. I opted to stop at the 7-11 across from where Chuck and Dee used to live…on Eastern. I had a slurpy and while drinking it paused to remember my in-laws. I missed them and wished I could drive across the street and say hi. Odd thing about the whole stop was the 7-11 sign that advertised Farmville Codes. Go figure. Then I headed to the cemetery. After getting there and visiting Frank’s grave, I wondered why he left this earth early. And then while I was mounting my bike, I wondered if he was watching me from heaven. I’ll have to ask him…someday.
The ride back on I-15 was slow, stop and no thanks to an accident near Flamingo involving a police motorcycle. I almost melted but survived.

San Francisco Continued

2010-05-20T20:05:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, we enjoyed lunch at a fine Mongolian BBQ restaurant in Mountain View, CA. Even though the ownership has changed four times since the last time I ate there, is was still great food. Then came a scare followed by an expensive lesson. We had driven the rental car back to the hotel for a quick bio break for Karen. The original plan was for me to drive around the block while Karen made a trip up to the room. Then we saw a parking meter available and I figured if I had change I would come up, too. I only had enough silver for about 20 minutes, so I plunked it in the meter and rode the elevator up. Only ten minutes later we headed back down to the car. When we walked out, my mouth dropped open and my heart almost stopped. The rental car was gone, yes gone. My first thought was it got stolen, as I pictured someone breaking the window and then jimmying the ignition and driving off.
We walked back into the hotel and announced that our rental car was gone. Noticing the panic in my voice, the desk clerk calmly said I must have parked at a commuter hour parking meter and got towed. She said to call the number on the meter, which I did and got an automatic message telling me where to go to retrieve the car. We needed the license plate so we had to walk over to the rental agency to get it. There the guy said to expect to pay around $360 to get it released. He gave us directions to the tow yard across from the cop shop. Rough neighborhood, but we got there and for the mere price of three hundred and thirty bucks, they would let us have our rental car back. To top that off, there was a $75 ticket on the windshield. As upsetting as the whole episode was, I was extremely cordial to the employees at the towing yard; I figured they probably faced pretty upset people all day.
Turns out tow trucks drive around and look for violators who park by these special meters. Had I read the fine print or stayed in the car, I would have avoided the traumatic episode, but I didn’t. It’s a scam as far as I am concerned as well as a waitress and parking patrol man I spoke to throughout the rest of that day. Parking is a premium in San Francisco and if you don’t watch it, it will cost you plenty. Needless to say, we returned the car that afternoon. While we had it the rest of the day, we were afraid to park anywhere. In fact, I thought the cops would catch me doing something else wrong and haul me off. Lesson learned: beware where you park in San Francisco. Make one mistake and you will pay out the nose.

San Francisco

2010-05-18T09:18:00.000-07:00

San Francisco is interesting to say the least. We’re staying at the Andrews Hotel in downtown San Fran. It’s a one hundred year old hotel that used to be a Turkish Bathhouse. The room is tiny and the bathroom is even tinier. It’s okay though, it’s good to downgrade your living arrangements for a while to appreciate how blessed we are. We have a window we can open, from the seventh floor (the top). The view reminds me of the old Hitchcock movie, Rear Window where Jimmy Stewart sits with his broken leg and watches his neighbors. He saw a murder occur, so far I’ve only seen a lady washing her dinner dishes.
Yesterday Karen and I must have logged five miles walking around town. We ended up walking through Japan Town on our way to an Italian eatery. I could tell we were in Japan Town by all the Japanese store signage. There are a lot of homeless people, some wanting handouts, some just going along with their day. One guy saw a half drank coffee cup sitting on the window sill of a building and opted to finish the drink. I saw another guy pick up a smashed cigarette butt with very little tobacco left, but there must have been something on it. Another guy’s sign just said “why lie, I need a beer”. There are a lot of people here in San Francisco downtown area. It would be an interesting place to live.

Peace Out

2010-04-10T19:59:00.001-07:00

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged. I haven’t run any half-marathons (since January) or gone mountain biking yet this season, so I haven’t been able to blog about those things. The good news is my feet have healed and my new shoes are providing the support I needed. Work got better when I accepted the fact that “it is what it is” meaning the way things are run is the way they have always been run (at least under the current leadership) and won’t change. Since I cannot find a new opportunity, I’ve decided to make the best of it. Since I am really enjoying my IT Management and Strategy class this semester and learning a lot, I’m trying to use my newfound knowledge in my job.
Since our reaction to our circumstances plays a huge part to how “happy” we are, it’s been amazing how my anger has resided. I was convicted one morning, last Sunday in fact when I read how the Father reacts to His children not believing that He only wants to bless them (sure, He wants to grow them up, too). Unbelief in the goodness of the Lord is not a good thing. We can trust Him with our life. He proves it over and over.
My son-in-law is out at Fort Polk in Louisiana for a few weeks…I think Cayden is missing him. Though he is in the terrible two’s, he still seems to be acting out because he misses his daddy. I might be wrong but the kid is pretty smart and his dad was in the habit of putting him to bed every night. My daughter is a great mom; I got to peek in the other night as she was reading him a bedtime story. It’s so cool to hear him call her “mommy”. He sure loves his mother, like most kids.
It’s been a long winter. I think all of us here in the Denver Metropolitan area are ready for some consistently warm weather. I rode my motorbike to work this week and it was still only thirty-one degrees on the ride in. Brrrr, come ‘on spring, show your warm behind real soon.
I’ve been following the Nuggets all year. It’s funny, if it’s a late game start and I know I won’t be able to stay up and watch the whole game, I can usually tell by half time of they’re playing good enough to win the game. They’re so fun to watch, especially through fifty-one victories. I hope they win it all.
Well, as my kids would say, peace out.

The Beginning of the End?

2010-03-14T17:10:00.001-07:00

In 2009 I ran more half marathons in one year than I ever have, that being six. One more than my previous high of five, reached in the years 2003, 2007 and 2008. Considering there aren’t any half marathons in Colorado in January or February, getting in six races, spaced out every couple of months, requires a trip to a warmer climate. I was fortunate enough to run a half in sunny southern California the last couple of years, in the early months.
This year looked just as good as any to either match my high of six 13.1 miles races or maybe even best it. Then a curve got thrown my way. The manufacturer of my favorite cushioned shoe, decided to tamper with the new model and I ended up with a shoe that could not support my arches. Even though I had my doubts about the shoe after putting a few miles on them, I tried making them work. I inserted the cushioned insert from my old shoes inside and all that seem to do was add a couple of inches to my height (which led to a couple of nose bleeds). When that didn’t help, I tried wearing two pairs of socks, one being extra cushiony. Confident that that was the solution, I wore the combination with the “defective” shoes during my first half marathon of the year, in Carlsbad, California in January. The socks didn’t help and I ended up beating the tar out of my arches.
So now I have tried another pair of cushioned shoes and they seemed better at first but still don’t provide the support my feet need. This series of unfortunate events led to me missing the registration cutoff for the second half I usually run in April. And due to the unknown state of both my feet and available shoes, it appears that not only is my attempt at running six or more half marathons this year in jeopardy, it’s possible that my running future is also in trouble. I tried to run ten miles Saturday on a soft treadmill but had to stop at four miles owing to the excruciating pain in my left arch. So is this the beginning of the end of my running career? Or is it until at least my feet truly heal and I also find a good pair of shoes?
I ran my first half-marathon in May of 2003 after getting a bit bored with 10K’s. It was just hard enough and fun enough that I have barely ran anything else in the last few years, other that the Bolder Boulder 10K, mostly out of tradition. I have absolutely no interest in running a full marathon, since I get both plenty of enjoyment and pain out of a 13.1 mile running event. The reality that I cannot race a half right now let alone train for one is discouraging to say the least. Being forced to rest probably isn’t the worst thing that could happen. Being able to prolong my running career might be. We’ll see…

First Half Marathon of the New Decade

2010-02-06T19:23:00.000-08:00

Okay, so you probably know that I had to use a free airplane ticket before it expired and decided to use it to run the Carlsbad Half Marathon. I ran the Big Sur Half last year on Super Bowl Sunday in Huntington Beach. So I thought it would be nice to run at sea level again. Best part of this year’s race was that Karen was able to join me on the trip.
Last year I felt so strong and kicked butt until mile 12 when I fell apart and struggled to finish the race at 1:46. I wanted a rematch with the sea level elevation to see if I could get a better finish time. Little did I know I was running against more than just the altitude. I had to deal with something else, bad shoes. Not bad in the sense that they cussed and smoked cigarettes, bad in the sense they did not do their job.
There are at least three different types of running shoes not counting racing flats. There are stability shoes, motion control and cushioned shoes. It’s really critical that a serious runner gets the proper type. One way you can tell which type you need is to get the bottom of your bare foot wet and then step on concrete or a piece of paper to see what your footprint looks like. If you want more info…Google it.
I need cushioned shoes. Once I find a brand and model that works well for me I stick with it. But inevitably the manufacturer will change something with a new year’s model. In this case is was Nike and the shoe salesman told me after the fact that they tried to mesh the features Vomero 2 and Vomero 3 into the Vomero 4. Bad move as far as I am concerned.
My plantar fasciitis started to act up after I started running in the 4’s. I tried adding extra cushioning myself but to no avail. So to make a long story longer, I am running a half at sea level and my arches aren’t golden meaning they are hurting big time. So whatever advantage I gained from training at 5280 feet above and racing 52 feet above vanished due to my crappy shoes.
Back to my point about the shoes, the right shoe is crucial when putting on some mileage. I was once talked into buying the wrong shoes by a well meaning sales guy and ended up having knee pain when I used them. Anyway, such is life and I could only muster a 1:45 finish time, not much better than last year. I could barely walk after the race and into the following couple days. Like Karen blogged, she was calling me Mr. Limpet. At least thanks to some bartering by Katie with Road Runner Sports, I have a new free pair of Asics cushioned shoes and I am slowly getting back on the road. I hope to run my next half here in Denver in April. In the mean time I sent my “bad” running shoes to rehab hoping that they get better. P.S. thanks Karen for coming with me this year, you made it “mo betta”.

Got Good Word?

2010-01-31T05:50:00.000-08:00

This morning I cracked open God’s Word and went to Proverbs. I was looking for some encouragement for the trial I am going through at work. Last week I again felt like walking out for good. Cannot do that though because of that stack of bills that seem to flow in every month.
I started in Proverbs 2 and made it to chapter 4 where some of the verses spoke to my heart. God is good that way, He likes His children to turn to Him for help and some encouragement. The verses I am talking about speak of the need for us to give attention to His Word. For our Heavenly Father has spoke many things through His Spirit which are written in the Bible. These verses go on to say that if we fix our eyes on what He has written, they will give us life and good health. Think about that. Some things that run down our immune system are thoughts of worry or stress. When we lose sleep over certain things, then our health starts to go downhill. In contrast, when we read things like, “Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it spring the issues of life.” then we gain some wisdom on how to not only survive this life but to navigate it well. The verses that follow tell us how to diligently keep our heart, by watching what we say and do and by staying away from evil things. We are to think about where we go, what we place before us, what we think about and so on.
Now I am not blogging this because I have mastered this, oh contraire. Like I mentioned at the start, I needed to read this and be reminded of where life can be found. I needed to be reminded of how I can reduce the stress in my life. I don’t have to worry about work because I can read what my Father God has said about what I need to be dwelling on and it ain’t the trial.

2009 Holiday Season...Different So Far

2009-12-19T19:30:00.000-08:00

It’s been a different holiday season this year. First Karen and I get invited to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving by my mom and dad. I’ve been to Mexico before but never that deep, only the border towns. My reaction to being down there was odd especially considering my grandparent’s on my mom’s side came from Mexico. I don’t think I spoke one word in Spanish. That’s not all that weird considering I don’t know Spanish but everyone learns a few words pretty quick, like hello and thank you, etc. But for me, for some reason I spoke to everyone in English.
Most of the people who work for a living down there don’t make all that much, most make only about 9 dollars a day or 600 dollars a month. The vendors hound the tourists on the beach, trying to make a sale. We are so blessed here in our great country. Even our smallest houses are huge compared to where a lot of Mexicans live. I wonder how they view us Americans.
Then I ran my sixth half marathon of the year down in Pueblo. Cousin Dave Diaz puts on the race. Uncle Bingy and Cousin Anthony man a water station. The course is average with a hard uphill finish. The weather wasn’t too bad. And because I hurried off to get back to Cayden’s house, my legs sure got sore driving back. I ended up with a 1:46 time which wasn’t too bad considering I felt like puking after running up the steep hill.
I also interviewed for a job. They didn’t pick me which wasn’t a surprise considering I totally miffed the interview. I know that if it’s the Lord’s will that I change jobs I won’t blow the interview. They had so many problems there anyway; no sane person would want to inherit that mess.
Then there’s that ugly thing called my fifty-first birthday. I call it ugly because the flipping years keep rolling by. Some stinking rock and roller said “time waits for no one” and he said at least one thing right. Why don’t I want to get old? Because old is bad saith the world. But getting old isn’t necessarily bad. A person should gain wisdom, right? Someday I will blog some of that wisdom.
The last strange thing is I didn’t hang out Christmas lights yet this year. Circumstances haven’t helped me find the time to do it. There’s still time but it’s running out. 2009 holiday season, different for sure.

Pressed

2009-11-21T12:09:00.000-08:00

Saturday after payday means bill paying day…yuk. Incredible how hard it can be to make a living to bring in the money and how easy it is to pay out those earnings. I learned that the Ducati 1098 can run the quarter mile in 4.6 seconds…I think I can empty my checking account even faster when paying bills.
Speaking of how hard making a living is, sometimes work sucks. It could be the job or your co-workers, even your boss but sometimes Life is Crap because of our jobs. My current situation reminds me of a time when my District Manager did not like me for some reason. I was managing a produce stand that was huge but the business was bad. It was hard to turn in good numbers each month. Anyway I remember one day in particular that he came in and the look he saw on my face had to have been, “Oh great, here comes the District Manager who hates me”. He ended up getting me transferred up the street where he told the Store Manager to fire me. Bruce was the Store Manager’s name and he told me this months later. Bruce liked me because I did a good job for him, never called in sick and also turned in a profit. Another day the Produce Consultant came in with the District Manager and started to nit pick my work that day. I flat out told him that if he wasn’t happy with me then demote me right then and there. He got snooty and ran upstairs to tell the DM what I said. I never heard another word or got harassed again.
Sometime later I got quoted in the Denver Post after a Union Meeting for getting up and saying that based on the economy at the time the contract that was being offered wasn’t that bad. After that the District Manager treated me well. It all worked out. Before I left the company for a new career, my Store Manager at the last store I worked said I was the best Produce Manager he ever had work for him. Good ending to at one time what seemed a pretty hostile environment.
Romans 5:3 says we are to glory in tribulations knowing that tribulation works patience, and patience, experience and experience, hope. Even though life brings pressure and what might feel like being pressed, knowing that God has delivered one out of a similar situation does bring hope. Sometimes being patient is the hard part…

13

2009-11-14T12:38:00.000-08:00

The number thirteen is one of my favorite numbers after forty-three anyway. I like forty-three because one of my favorite pro football players of all time wore this number, Steve Foley of the 1976-1986 Denver Broncos. He was an awesome defensive back for the Orange Crush back then. I like thirteen because that’s the day I was born, December 13. So it’s not an unlucky number for me. In fact I’ve been told my dad saved my life when I was a baby. I was in my crib I guess and one of my young cousins came into where I was carrying a bucket or something full of sand. She thought she would pour it on my face. Thankfully my dad walked in at the right time and rescued me from suffocating. So if it would have been an unlucky day to be born on (Saturday the thirteenth by the way) I guess I wouldn’t be here blogging today.
Anyway, thirteen is also the number of miles I ran this morning which is where I came up with the idea to title today’s blog. I haven’t blogged for a while so I had to come up with something. This morning the temperature felt like it was thirteen degrees, at least at the start before I warmed up. I hit the road at 6:36 AM. I was hoping for a “snow run” but the weather forecasters let me down again. It was still somewhat of a pristine atmosphere due to the snow that had fallen last night. There’s not many people out that early on a Saturday morning, in fact I didn’t see any other runners on the Dry Creek Trail which is rare.
I just bought new shoes, Nike Zoom Vomero 4 , which is a high end running shoe with the “sexist colouring - blue for men, pink for women”. They felt like they need a little more breaking in but I had milked my last pair long enough. Rule of thumb is about five hundred miles on a pair and I think I got a couple hundred more than that. I hope to use them in the half-marathon cousin Dave puts on in Pueblo in early December.
Changing gears, since I was not able to attend school this semester I have been watching a lot of pro football this season especially with the NFL package which enables me to watch my favorite teams, the Chicago Bears and the New Orleans Saints. Saints are doing awesome but even though the Bears are 4-5, they are still fun to watch, usually. Thursday’s game was hard, there was so much pressure for both teams to win and seeing Cutler throw those two picks in the end zone hurt. Still, I really like watching Jay Cutler play. He has such a strong arm and can wing the ball pretty far and is usually accurate. He still needs to jell with his receivers and his new team. He has ran a couple of times as well this year and cracks me up when he gets clobbered pretty good and then gets up grinning at the defensive player. He is pretty tough guy. Some people view him as a complainer due to how he ended up leaving the Broncos but since I have followed Jay pretty closely, his one ESPN interview revealed how it seemed that coach McDaniel messed up when they met to patch things up. I also heard that a HVAC guy who works On Mike Shanahan’s house heard from Mike, who is a friend of Cutler that is was Pat Bowlen who did not return Cutler’s phone calls not the other way around as the press reported. Anyway, regardless of how the Bear’s season has unfolded so far and Jay’s high number of interceptions, I still believe that he will be one of the great quarterbacks the league has seen. We’ll see. Go Bears!

A Day in the Life of an IT Manager

2009-11-05T19:30:00.000-08:00

Ever wonder what an IT Manager does during a normal work day? My former co-workers in my previous occupation figured I would end up sitting on my behind all day and get a fat butt. Well, that’s pretty rare, thankfully. Today I was only at my desk around four hours. I came in and checked email. Then when Raymond clocked in I went over to his office to talk. We lost a computer specialist so I have been trying to help Raymond stay on top of things. We had planned on deploying about 10 computers in our Clerk and Recorder’s office. We try and replace computers after they turn three years old because that’s when the warranty runs out and parts might start failing. Parts like hard drives and power supplies. Raymond was working on getting an image prepared and then pushed out to the rest of the new computers. What that means is that when you have the same model of computer and the same department you install the software on one and the “capture” the image and then you install theat image on other computers. It’s like cloning in a way.
Anyway, he hadn’t quite done his part so I moved on to the next thing, which was a Change Request meeting. When a staff member wants to make certain changes on a server (a powerful computer that runs an application or service like email service) that staff member needs to fill out a form online to get manager approval. This way everyone that needs to be aware of a change is in the loop. This meeting focused on the online process and lasted about thirty minutes.
Then it was on to the next thing, replacing a hard drive in a fairly new computer. I was a bit rusty at this so I let Raymond watch over me as I took out the bad drive (bad meaning it had started smoking and cussing) and snapped in the new drive. The we connected it to the network so he could push an image on that PC.
While that was occurring I went back to my office to look at mailbox sizes. We have around 900 email users and two email servers. We are finally putting a limit on the size a user’s mailbox can grow to, that being 900 megabytes. Some people cannot find the time to manage their mailboxes and it just grows and grows. I am kind of the mailbox cop and send out email messages warning users of enforcing limits and then making the changes on the email server where if a user exceeds 900 megabytes that user will be unable to send out messages. Instead Exchange will send them a message automatically warning them to decrease the size of their mailbox.
After that I went and retrieved the imaged computer and hooked it up in my office. I have a spare small desk in my office where I can work on computers or use the spare PC in my office. I had the task of installing the rest of the software that the computer needed. I also ran down to another floor to fix an issue that had been hanging over my head, a user’s shortcut to a web application wasn’t working and I finally figured out why. I had the user test it and then I headed back up. I worked on the PC some more, had to ask an application staff member to install one program, then I walked over to where most of my staff sit and talked to them.
I had an appointment today with one of the vendors we purchase certain products from , so me and a couple of my staff headed down to Colorado Boulevard and I-25. We met our vendors at their office where they had a nice spread of munchies and fruit. They even offered us beer but we declined. We heard the presentation then talked among ourselves a little then headed home.
Overall I like my job and the people I manage. I have some pretty good guys and I have learned that they work so much better if I don’t micro manage them or have knee jerk reactions. The hard part right now is my boss and I do not work well together anymore. I think it’s time to move on and am just waiting for another door to open. In the meantime I try and just do my job. I do try to have fun like today when I was swinging a mouse around in front of Brian and Dave saying I was going to hypnotize them so they would be drones. Then when I gave them an order they would just respond like a robot and do my bidding. We all got a good laugh out of it. Work on…

HB Drew

2009-10-29T04:59:00.002-07:00

Twenty-five years ago today at 3:17 PM, Andrew C. was born into this world. It took him quite a while to bust out, maybe because he really didn’t want the clock to start. His mom had a long, hard labor and was pretty tired by the time he gave up and joined the outside world. I remember going into the little hospital chapel, quite tired myself, and asking the Lord for mercy on my wife (read: please end the long labor) and get this kid out. I don’t remember what time that prayer was but Drew did come out eventually.
We have pictures of me holding Drew, me with a big smile on my face. I was only twenty-five years old myself that day. I worked part-time for a grocery chain and we lived in a townhouse in Thornton. I think I made around thirty-thousand or so a year. I remember that Drew would wake up in the middle of the night and Karen and I would get up and while she fed him we would turn on lights and stuff and then wonder why he didn’t want to go back to sleep. I also remember taking afternoon naps with Drew when I worked the 6 AM to 2:30 PM shift.
Drew was only an only child for seventeen months before his first sister joined us. I remember Drew meeting his new little sis, he was so gentle with her. He also fell down the stairs around the same time and broke his little leg. It was quite the time for the little guy.
I also remember when Drew played little league football. He ended up playing receiver his first year. His second year new coaches came on and Drew didn’t see much playing time because the coaches also brought their team with him and Drew was left out. It was their loss because when Drew played in the last half of the Senior Bowl, they put him in at running back and man did he have some wheels. He ran a couple of sweeps and could he ever motor around the end. Dumb coach; see what you missed out on!
Today, my son is in his groove. He’s going to make it in this world he was so reluctant to join. I am proud of you son. I often brag about you to my friends and co-workers. I tell them how often you make such a good impression on the adults you meet. You’re smart, polite and quite intelligent. Happy Birthday Andrew.

Life is Crap But...

2009-10-22T20:16:00.000-07:00

Life, it’s hard. At work today I got reprimanded for omitting some information in an email to a supervisor. Why I took the extra time to omit the information in a forwarded email is beyond me. I tried to justify it today after getting in trouble but I am sure there was more to it than I first admitted to myself. There has been a lot of water that has gone under the bridge in the last six months than must have influenced my thinking process. None the less it is what it is.
Later on I listened to one of my employees tell me about the hostile work environment they have found themselves in. Their coworker has a short fuse, is bossy and seems to have insecurity issues. The employee has debated for days about bringing the manager, me, into the fray. As I listened to the employee I was reminded of one of the hard parts of a manager’s job, dealing with problem people. And as I told the employee that they do not have to work in a hostile environment I realized that I have been working in one myself. All I had was compassion and resolve to assist this good worker in fixing the situation with the limited power I have. How I am going to change my current conditions is another story.
Then tonight I reluctantly went to the Men’s Group, I say reluctantly because it needs help. But it ended up being worth it, being around other guys and hearing their stories. One guy could relate to my work situation and acknowledged me and my dilemma…which was kind of neat. Hopefully some of the guys are praying for me. Another guy who has been having marriage problems reported that things were getting better, this after only two weeks ago when it looked pretty bleak. He thanked the group for their prayers, which I was a part of. The Lord has been putting him on my heart many times.
Another brother talked about some neat times when the Lord worked in him to share with some unlikely candidates. In fact this brother, a long time member of our church was pretty uplifting. What a worn out word, uplifting. Maybe it is better said that his testimony was good to hear, a reminder how life in the Spirit can be. It reminded me of my most recent endeavor, my stint at the Denver Rescue Mission in 2007. There were some pretty awesome blessings I received as I served Him for a few months.
Life is full of trials and some people have harder trials than others. Life is a lot different in the Spirit. What does that mean? It means that when a child of God follows Him and lives for Him, He brings situations, rather lives into proximity to those available so He can minister and draw those people to Him. Whether they respond to that “call” or not is up to them. Point is that that life is exciting where a life that tries to find fulfillment in an occupation will only be disappointed. As the “other” shirt says, Life is Crap but as one song writer wrote even a crappy life can produce a rose. A rosy life can come from doing the will of the Lord. What is that for me? I know how to get there. I’ve been there. How do I get back? I know that too. Whether I follow that knowledge is yet to be seen.

Moab Ride and Run

2009-10-20T19:50:00.000-07:00

Two years ago I went out to Moab with my BFFL and ran a half marathon down one of the most beautiful courses I have ever run on. The race is on Highway 128 and has some of the most surreal scenery in the country. This year on Cayden’s birthday I would have a second chance to run the course.
Actually I booked the hotel room, then registered for the race BEFORE I realized it was on Cayden’s birthday. Doh, good job Apa, drive out to Moab to race on my birthday. I figured I would try and make it back and down to Colorado Springs in time to see everybody leaving the party.
The morning of the race I woke up no problem to the alarm I had set on my cell phone, around five AM. Showered, dressed in my racing best and headed down to eat breakfast. It was six in the morning and I knew I would have a couple of hours to digest some oatmeal and toast. Then it was outside to wait for the shuttle to the start. There was already a long line outside the motel waiting for the school buses. It was around forty-three degrees and dark and the buses were late…good start to the day. I ended up talking to a guy who looked a little older than me although he was a lot faster based on his average half marathon finish times which he told me. He had brought his dirt bike to Moab and had been riding with a few friends before race day. He told me he was from Illinois and our conversation helped pass the time until about ten school buses from Grand Junction pulled up. We jumped on the warm bus and the grumpy driver started driving out to Dewy Bridge, the starting area. It was about a thirty mile trip and took about forty minutes.
When we got there, there were already a bunch of people, most either standing by the fire pits or in line for the port-a-potties. I tried to squeeze in by a fire pit to get warm but there wasn’t much room. Because the buses were so late I only had to wait about forty-five minutes before the start of the race which went by even faster. The race started on time and off we went. The first six miles are fairly flat and it warmed up pretty quick. But then comes the first hill and it’s no sleeper. Good thing was I ran a smart race and ended up having a little gas left in the tank at mile eleven. I could see the ranch where the race finished and gassed it a little. The last half mile I punched it and passed a bunch of the yo’s that had passed me earlier.
I beat the time I had two years ago by about a minute and a half. I grabbed my clothes bag, a banana and piece of bread and headed to the parking lot to try and hitch a ride back to the motel. I noticed a lady heading in that direction so I hustled to follow her. We ended up chatting as we walked on the trail and she asked if I was heading to my car to which I said I was going to try and hitchhike back to my hotel. She was heading to her car where her husband and two kids were waiting. She said she would ask her husband if they could give me a ride at least part of the way. He agreed and I got dropped off at Highway 191, which was about four miles from my hotel. I figured I could hitch a ride from someone who would recognize my race bib and bag but no one stopped. I ended up having to walk and run the rest of the way back which must have started a migraine in my head. I was starting to stress that I wouldn’t make it out of town very fast. I ended up at the motel at noon, which was the time they were going to start busing runners back from the finish line. I still had a head start on them but had hoped to get an earlier start.
Even though I had asked for a late check-out time my key card wouldn’t let me back in my room. Thankfully a cleaning lady saw my dilemma and let me in. After a quick shower I ate the rice crispy bar I found in my race bag and packed my sissy bar bag. Oh, I forgot to mention I had driven my motorbike out on the trip. The forecast said it would be warm and dry over the mountain passes so I could not come up with any excuses not to drive it, hence the sissy bar bag. I stopped by the gas station to; yeah you guessed it, gas up. And off I went.
The migraine that started was still a dull ache on the left side of my head but I tried to ignore it. I had left around twelve-thirty which would put me in Denver around five-thirty and would leave me with another eighty minute drive to Springs for the party. I think that what was stressing me out and causing the migraine. I didn’t really want to miss Cayden’s party but it was starting to look that way.
The ride out and back was so nice. What a extra bonus to get in a long ride this late in the year. She sure purrs like a kitten or maybe a large cat. I gassed up in Grand Junction and Vail. In Vail I also took some Extra Strength Tylenol as my weak migraine was still present. By the time I got to Evergreen it was still there. I had to decide if I wanted to turn south and head towards Springs real quick. The bummer about riding a bike at dawn or dusk is the danger of hitting a deer on the highway. It is bad enough in a vehicle but extra bad on a bike or so I hear. So I headed home.
As soon as I was able to get some ice on my left side of my head, the migraine disappeared. I called Karen to let her know I wasn’t going to make it down. Some people were leaving and Cayden was busy playing and visiting. Happy Birthday Cayden, thankfully. I did get to see you the next day.

Moab MB Trip

2009-09-28T18:15:00.001-07:00

Last time Karen and I were out in Moab and I heard about the Slickrock Mountain Bike trail, I have wanted to go back and ride it. The MB guide book we bought last time mentioned it as one of the classic Moab rides. The author is a local yokel and I thought his book had flavor in comparison to the other guide. Thanks to the extra vacation time I was able to drive out a couple of Wednesdays ago. I needed to keep the trip budget low so I pulled the pop-up tent trailer out and ended up in the BLM campground, Big Bend, about seven and one-half miles from Moab. For twelve dollars a night, it beats the cheapest motel which runs about seventy-five clams per night.
I made it to the Slickrock trailhead around 4 PM the day I got there. It cost me five dollars to get into the “park” so I was determined to get my money’s worth. The trail is supposed to be around thirteen miles long and take between two to five hours to ride the trail. As I passed a section reserved for practicing this type of trail I figured I better take my chances and just hit the main trail. Now supposedly Moab is the “greatest” place on earth to mountain bike and I had resolved to find out why, especially since Colorado had some pretty great trails and views, too.
Okay, now about the trail. Rider Mel in his local MTB guide gave this trail all tens, on a scale of one to ten with ten being the hardest. This review had left me a bit anxious before the ride. All I can say after the ride is that the few trails I’ve been on in Colorado are just as scary in spots. Don’t get me wrong, there were spots that I walked my bike and there were down hills that I rode the brake but the same has happened in Colorado. The terrain is way different, mostly ROCK which adds a completely different element to the rides. I do have to admit that the views left me quite open-mouthed at times. The pictures I took can’t give Jesus the justice He deserves since He created it, quite awesome. None the less, I rode the trail in just two hours and I was pretty exhausted and glad to see it end when it did. I guess I got my money’s worth.
The next day I drove to the Poison Spider Mesa trail. The road to get there is the Potash Road and is along the Colorado River on the west side of highway 191. I hadn’t yet been on this road or in this section of Moab. Evidently there is a lot more to Moab and the surrounding area than meets the eye.
This ride is a sixteen mile ride, eight out and eight back. It also doubles as a jeep trail and I did see about six four-wheelers on the ride. The trails in Moab on rock are marked by dashes for Mountain Bikes and white painted jeeps for, you guessed it, jeeps (and other crazies). Almost the entire trail (on rock) is black from four-wheeler tires. I imagine there’s a lot of brake and spinning action when traversing up or down.
There are lots of places where you have to drive through deep sand and end up walking the bike through. Then there are a couple of spots with “steps” or other places where bike walking is the norm. There was also a long section of a dirt road. I kept wondering where the heck this “little arch” was that the guidebook talked about. When I got to the end, a marking on the rocks pointed to the place where this arch was. It also said to STOP HERE AND PARK. There were about six mountain bikes doing just that. This group of guys was just leaving. One asked if I was alone and if I wanted them to wait so I could go down with them. But another biker quickly dismissed that idea, still which was nice of that guy.
When I walked up to see the Little Arch, I was blown away. As I looked down through the hole of the arch, I could see the Colorado River and roadway. And when I walked to the top of the rock, it was like I was at the top of the world. It was so high. I could also see the town of Moab. As I rested for a while up there, I realized that this was one reason mountain biking is so worth the climb up…for views like this one. It took me about one and one half hours to climb up to the top and one hour to go back down…it was pretty tiring but well worth it. Maybe I’m on to something…mountain biking vacations!

If a Mountain Bike blog was Written like a Novel

2009-09-15T08:39:00.000-07:00

He had taken the week off for a vacation. The first day he hit the gym as normal and also squeezed in a four mile run before lunch. In between he had tweaked his resume and applied for another job. Things weren’t going well at work with his boss, hence the extra vacation and job applying.
Later that morning, when Karen came home, she found him sprawled out on the bed watching SportsCenter. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Resting” was his reply. “From what?” “From my run”. “All you need to do now is go for a Mountain Bike ride and you’ll be set” blurted out his wife. A Mountain Bike ride, he pondered. He hadn’t planned on doing one but he liked the idea. He wasn’t sure if his right knee was up to it after twisting it in his first crash Saturday. Yet it didn’t bother him at all on his short run that morning and the icing of it Sunday surely helped. So after they visited Borders after lunch, he headed up.
He had been wanting to try a trail up by Conifer but after Karen tried to talk him out of riding decided to head up to Golden and ride Chimney Gulch. He left the house around two pm so traffic was not an issue. But on the way up he changed his mind and looked up the directions to Mt. Falcon. His guide book was stuffed with copies of various trails and as he tried to keep the page to Mt. Falcon open, papers started to fall out. “Crap” he whined. “I got to get rid of these papers” he thought. It turned out to be close to Morrison and a shorter trip than to Lair O’ Bear. The funny thing was how his Mountain Bike guide book directed him to Morrison. It was different than its directions to the Lair but ended up in the same town. Oh, well whatever he thought as he pulled into the parking lot.
A young lady was just coming down to the trailhead as he got out of his Pathfinder. Her car just happened to be next to his so he asked her how the ride was and if it was hot out there. She responded by saying the ride and weather were great and if I knew what time it was. I gave her the time then pulled my bike out and flipped it over so I could lube the chain. I had given it a good bath and was sure the chain needed some juice. The lady said to have a good ride then took off. I changed the lenses on my glasses to the dark pair, strapped on my helmet and cinched up my Camelback and then locked up my vehicle. Up the mountain I headed.
The trail description said the aerobic level is physically moderate to challenging due to a few steep climbs. It seemed like one big steep climb up to mile four. As it was the climb was sixteen hundred feet up in elevation in that same distance. Various thoughts entered his mind as he strained to climb. A couple of women who were stopped retorted, “Tough climb, huh?” At one point he wondered if the trail was named after the bird. Speaking of falcons, his thoughts continued, Tony Gonzales is now playing for the Falcons, seems weird for the long time Chief. He must have watched too much football the day before to be thinking of the NFL. After getting to the top Chuck tried to remember what trail to take at the second fork. “I thought it started with a p”, he thought to himself but the sign said Meadow Trail. So he kept on Castle Trail. He soon came to another fork and sure enough there was his trail, the Parmalee Trail.
What a name, Parmalee. The trail headed down the side of another mountain, which would mean he would have to climb again to get back up. He just hoped he was supposed to turn left on this trail and not right. As he barreled down the new strange trail he thought, “Parmalee, Parmalee please don’t pummel me.” As he looked around he noticed how beautiful it was up there but then he wondered why he hadn’t seen the guy who had been hiking far ahead of him as he had climbed up Castle Trail. “Maybe he’s waiting in the bushed to ambush me” his morbid thoughts permeated the silence. “Hey, I should write a book, a novel and call it the Mountain Bike Murderer”. Before he could go on with these thoughts the breathtaking scenery stopped him in his tracks. He could see the interstate to his south and the surrounding mountains were so green and awesome.
He finally made it back to Castle Trail and started to head down. He passed a couple of fellow bikers who had stopped at a picnic table and were deep in conversation as he whizzed by. The trail ride down was fast and furious. He has to stop and pull over for a few riders who were making their way up. One guy said something as he was about to pass and Chuck said, “What was that?” “There’s lots of space here, you don’t have to stop” he painfully repeated himself. He seemed a bit annoyed that I made him repeat himself since it was obvious that he was having a hard time breathing. Another guy was stopped and said he had heard a biker coming down and had stopped to make sure he was out of the way. “I couldn’t have been that noisy” Chuck thought to himself but kept going.
He was almost near the bottom when he started to encounter steps. There were garden railroad ties placed to form steps on this particular part of the trail. He thought he was maneuvering his hardtail just fine until he came upon a “step” that seemed to have a tall drop off. Before he knew it he was going head first over the handle bars. It seemed like it was happening in slow motion. He had a good viewpoint of the handle bars as the back wheel started coming up. He could feel his body going over and his helmet as the back of it hit the dirt. Then his back took the brunt of the landing. He thought he heard himself let out a loud grunt but couldn’t be sure as it happened so fast. If his bike landed on him he didn’t feel nor remember it. After taking a mental inventory for pain he looked around to see if anyone saw him. Why that would be a concern at that minute is strange but that seems common. No one was around so he got up and dusted himself off. A quick look at the bike seemed to confirm that it too was okay. He had to laugh at himself as he continued on. Then he thanked the Lord that he didn’t get hurt. That was his third crash in two outings which broke his streak of crash-free rides he had had.
When he got to his car and pulled off his shirt to look at the battle scars, it was quite dirty and told the story of the fall. His right shoulder and back area had taken the brunt. He had road rash on his left elbow which must have come from his bike landing on him. He shook out some of the dirt, wiped off his bike shorts and pulled his shirt back on. “That was such a blast” he mentally reflected. That may have been one of the best trails he had ridden on since taking up mountain biking. With that he loaded his bike and headed home.

Hardest MTB Ride Ever...

2009-09-13T14:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the hardest physical exercise experience I think I ever had. I went on a Mountain Bike ride from Kenosha Pass to Georgia Pass and back with a small group. So far the farthest mtb ride I had been on was eight miles. This ride was around twenty-six miles long. It started at the Colorado Trail west trailhead on Kenosha Pass over to Georgia Pass. The skies were overcast with a good chance of rainstorms. My buddy Duke from church invited me to join his Christian Mountain Bike group. With the temperature hovering around the low forties, dressing appropriately was crucial. The bike club was an extremely seasoned mountain biking group as leg warmers came out as well as other mountain biking suitable cold weather gear. Being somewhat of a mtb rookie, all I had was a raincoat, long-sleeved running shirt, short sleeved shirt and runner’s gloves. I’m sure I stood out like a (cold) sore thumb but it was what it was. John, who was leading the ride with his wife Linda, prayed for us and we took off. John, Linda and three guys took off pretty quick and would end up tearing up the trail all day. Duke was kind of stuck with the newbie (me) and another lady, Amy.
This was my first foray with a group this big. I learned later that Linda, John and maybe one other had competed in Mountain Bike races in their past and it showed. They left us in the dust. As I followed from the rear, I wondered, as I always do on a new trail, what lay ahead. Little did I know I was in for one heck of a journey. The fast group stopped at a rock formation overlooking Baker Lake. Another group had passed Amy and I and were also stopped there taking pictures. Then we continued on. It wasn’t long before I had my first mishap. I rode over some rocks and my bike bucked me off. Thankfully I was able to keep my feet, but it was close.
I ended up riding by myself for a while, Duke had gone ahead and Amy had fallen back. I got hot in my raincoat and pulled off the trail to shed it and also eat part of a Cliff Bar. A couple of guys passed me and then after I rode for a while, caught up with Duke only because he stopped to wait for me and Amy. After a short stop I continued up while he stayed to see if Amy was still coming. It took me a while but I finally made it near the top of Georgia Pass. Three of the guys from our group were stopped near a fork, waiting to see who was coming up. When I got there they asked if I had seen John and Linda, which I had not. I waited with them to see who else was coming up. It was really cold where we were so put my raincoat back on. I debated on going all the way up, another half mile or so. One of the three guys said to just count it good while the more competitive guy said I should close the deal. The decision was made when Duke caught up with us and I joined him and we continued up. The other three headed down the left side of the fork. While finishing the climb to the top, it started snowing little, round flakes, which isn’t surprising when you are 11,585 feet above sea-level in Colorado in the middle of September. My fingers got so cold I had to stop and put my full finger gloves back on.
On the way back down Duke led us to the left of the fork we were at earlier and we headed down a different trail. This trail was a trip. The first part was so narrow that I had a hard time staying on. Then we got down into the tree-line and it was a little wet. A downed tree was in the middle of the trail and we had to lift our bikes over the tree and then shimmy underneath. We also came across four hunters carrying rifles, quite a strange site in the middle of a mtb ride. I think we looked strange to them, too. I didn’t know what season there was or what they were hunting, I was just hoping it wasn’t Mountain Biker season.
I then encountered a new obstacle in mtb riding, wet tree roots sticking out of the ground. I had already run into a bunch of exposed roots but when I hit this wet one, my front wheel slid and down I went. I wondered if one of the hunters had heard or seen me, Duke was far ahead, so he didn’t. My front wheel acted like a vise on my left leg as I tried to get back up. My knee hurt a little but I jumped back on the bike and kept going. I tried to avoid both the wet tree roots and rocks from there on. Then as I tried to avoid another wet obstacle and as I braked to slow down, I hit a small tree with my right shoulder. I seemed alright, so once again I kept going. I was getting pretty tired by now and that didn’t seem to help my cause, which was to avoid crashing again.
Duke was waiting for me at a gate; we rested for a short spell and then kept going. We still had at least an hour to go, which was not good news to me. I was ready to get off this ride but the only way off was to ride down. My legs hurt, I was cold and we still had a long way to go, including more climbing. I had “run with the big dogs” and had been humbled. It was like riding one of the rides I had ridden before, three straight times. Duke kept encouraging me saying that I had great conditioning, but I was getting so tired. None the less, I toughed it out and after riding over five hours, got back to trailhead. I could not wait to get into my SUV and blast the heater. Everyone else had already left. I was pretty thankful that Duke had stayed with me, had encouraged and instructed me down the mountain. It was quite the experience but I don’t remember ever being so exhausted. All I wanted to do was get home and take a hot shower, eat something and top it off with a cold beer. So that’s exactly what I did.

Refreshing Labor Day

2009-09-10T19:52:00.000-07:00

Cayden is such a great grandson. He is so smart and understands what he is told. Obeying might be another story but hey, he is entering his terrible twos. We got to go visit him and his parents this past Labor Day weekend. Even Kate and David came down Saturday afternoon. Anyway, getting to spend so much time with Cayden made this one of the best Labor Day holidays that I can remember.
First we played in his new train folding tent-like thing. He would crawl in and say, “Papa”, even though it sounds more like “Apa” without the p sound. So I would climb in and lay next to him. But five seconds later he lifts the tent and shimmies out underneath, leaving his papa stuck inside. Then we would go outside and play with his cars or whatever else was around. At one point he dropped some rocks on the sidewalk and I would kick them back into the rock garden and then shout “He scores!” to which Cayden would grab more rocks and start the new game all over again. He catches on so fast to things.
Saturday morning we went over to the park where they have an annual hot air balloon festival. The weather was too windy and foggy, so the balloonists were not able to fly their balloons, since the FAA only gives them a couple hours in the morning to fly. Saturday night we all went over to the park again when the balloonists fill their balloons and then “light” them all together. It was an amazing sight. I think after while Cayden either got overwhelmed or just got tired and seemed liked he was ready to go home. It could have been all the people, too. There must have been over a couple thousand people packed in the park along with about twenty hot air balloon teams and gear and vans and trailers. Anyway, it was so cool looking, it’s hard to believe they have been doing this in Colorado Springs for a long time and we had never heard about it.
Saturday afternoon while Cayden took his nap and Karen and Kelly waited for Kate to show up, I had the opportunity to ride up the Pancake Rocks Trail. The trail is about eleven miles from the small town of Divide, Colorado. Divide is west of Colorado Springs on Highway 24. The trailhead starts at an old closed tunnel in the mountains near Pikes Peak. The road it is on leads to Cripple Creek. Anyway, it’s always exciting to go up a new trail. You never know what lies ahead.
The first part of this trail was steep and even though the trail was one of the smoothest trails I’ve been on, it was still a bit strenuous. I stayed left at the fork to Horse thief trail. This section was not only steep but quite eroded. It was more like biking up a dry creek bed than a trail. The sign at the fork said it was two mile to the summit…it would turn out to be a really tough two miles. After I left the eroded section it was still very steep. I ended up getting off to walk the bike up every so often. I passed a few hikers and got a “look” from a few. I suppose some people think it’s crazy to ride a bike up a mountain if they have never encountered a mtb rider before.
I finally made it to the top but kept following the trail until it started heading down again and the trail signs said I was on a different trail, so I turned around. I stopped long enough to climb upon a rock to enjoy the view. I still get amazed at the beauty of the Rocky Mountains. Each area of Colorado is just different enough to have a unique splendor. When perched high upon a mountain side, you can see for miles. There may be a rain storm off to the west and clear, sunny skies east or visa versa. The smell of pine trees is sweet. And the solitude is calming. I looked for rocks that looked like pancakes but only saw formations that looked like cow dung. The hikers had arrived so I jumped back on my bike to head down. A lady with dogs apologized for being on the trail then asked how hard it was to bike up. I told her I had walked it many times, which was a slight exaggeration, then headed down.
The downhill ride is usually exciting as one can pick up a lot of speed. On occasion you might miss a rock on the trail and hit it too fast and then bounce wildly, at least with a hardtail mb. And of course it takes about a third of the time to descend. Before I knew it I was back at the trailhead. Then it’s just a matter of throwing the bike in the back of the Pathfinder and driving home.
Seems that time with Cayden is special and time up on a mountain is fun. A man needs these things to break up the necessity of work. This Labor Day provided both. Thanks Lord.

Meeting Three Sisters for the First Time

2009-09-02T18:56:00.000-07:00

Last Wednesday one of the vendors I work with had planned on meeting me and another guy at the
3 Sisters / Alderfer Mountain Bike Trail. Unfortunately, he had to take his doggie to the vet. I was left wondering what this trail was all about. Today I found out.
The trail is in Evergreen and it took me an hour and ten minutes to get there from work (Brighton). I was able to leave around 3:30 PM and missed some of the rush hour traffic. I used the direction from the Falcon book on Front Range Mountain Bike trails and it led me straight to the correct parking area. Still I watched a biker head up the path I knew I would be heading up. The weather was warm but I had my Camelback full of cold, semi-cold Gatorade. So I headed up after sparingly applying some sunscreen.
I passed four high school cross country girls training for the season. A couple of them said hi as I passed them in the opposite direction and I thought, they’re friendly enough up here. I also passed a hiker and two mt bikers coming down.
The trail is seven miles long and even though I did not encounter any “technical” spots that forced me to walk my bike, it was steep enough to get my attention. Yet I thought this would be a good trail for my nephew to cut his teeth on. We are meeting at Chimney Gulch tomorrow and I hope it doesn’t kick his butt (even though it ALWAYS kicks mine). The thing that occurred to me during my ride was how awesome mountain bike riding is. A person can get a great leg workout while at the same time enjoying the amazing beauty of the mountains. There is the fresh smell of pine trees, at least there was today. Then there is the gorgeousness of God’s creation up there. It’s hard to explain (Lucy, not withstanding) but you’re up there on a single track trail riding a bicycle uphill in the mountains. It’s faster and funner (not a real word) than hiking, I’m sure.
And after you reach the apex (the top) all the pain dissipates and then comes the downhill part. There were times when I was haling butt real fast mostly because the trail facilitated it and there was almost no traffic on the trail. I think I only had to slam on my brakes twice to stop for a couple of bikers heading up. Even though it only took me about fifty minutes to climb up and twenty minutes to come down, it was a fun and uneventful, enjoyable ride.

Crappy Trails

2009-08-22T19:53:00.000-07:00

Karen and I got to go camping in our pop-up camper for the first time this year. We went with Steve and Trish. Trish doesn’t like camping in campgrounds where campers are packed liked sardines..guess what? She knows what she’s talking about. We went up to the road that goes up next to Peru Creek (south of Keystone). It was a rough road and the going was pretty slow but Steve and Trish found a great spot. We had to drive through Peru Creek a couple times to get there, albeit they were shallow spots. The spot was far from the next campers and after finally getting the pop-up level we setup camp. Steve had a roaring campfire going and it felt good since the temperature was dropping.
Because the campsite was so isolated there were no bathrooms or showers. That forced us to “potty” in the woods, not a big problem but it was the one drawback. However, the benefits outweighed the negative aspects. That night we could see so many stars. And it was so quite, except for the sound of Peru Creek. The sunset on the mountains was awesome. The surrounding s were pretty neat, too. It was so great to be outdoors enjoying God’s creation. The night air got cold, real cold. Thankfully we had our sleeping bags, a blanket and hoodys. We survived the cold night, it probably dropped into the high thirties.
The next day while Karen, Steve and Trish went hiking I started the bicycle ride up Argentine Pass. This would be my third attempt. I headed up the road that led to the Trailhead. There were a bunch of cars parked there but I never saw one person, even the guy who passed me in a black Ford F150. The road up Argentine Pass sucked, suited more for the horde of hikers somewhere ahead of me. I encountered a ton of rocks, guess that’s why they call them the Rocky Mountains. Even though this Pass is listed in Mountain Bike books as a mountain bike trail, this road is not well-matched for biking. Bottom line, it’s a crappy trail for mountain biking.
I did endure the lousy trail long enough to make it to a fork, well above the timber line (which varies in Colorado between 11,000 feet and 12,000 feet.). I couldn’t tell which way to go at the fork and no signs were present to solve the dilemma So I headed up to the left and took a few pictures and headed back down, Cool thing about heading up into the Colorado mountains either on foot, bike or Jeep. You get to see views and scenery that others will never experience. It can be amazing. None the less, I called it a “climb” and headed down. When I got back to the spot where we crossed Peru Creek in the Pathfinder, I took off my Mountain Bike shoes (and socks) again to walk my bike across. I learned in a magazine that you don’t want to get your shoes wet so take them off and walk your bike through the stream. Overall it was a great experience and ride.

1:40 at 50

2009-08-15T17:17:00.001-07:00

Today was the 33rd running of the Basalt half marathon. I’ve only ran about five of them. Last year it was a minor miracle I even ran the race after running over some large pieces of concrete on Interstate 70 just east of Idaho Springs. That incident led to a flat left rear tire. I changed the tire and kept going. Then I hit snow on the west side of the Eisenhower Tunnel, huge snowflakes that looked like soft hail. After finally making it to Basalt that August 16th morning of 2008, I had to jump in front of the last shuttle bus to make it stop and pick me up. I figured I made it that far I wasn’t going to just watch it drive by. After we got dropped off at the start, it started to lightning and rain. Ron, the race director, had enough sense to start the race and after running a short distance the sun broke out and that was that.
This year Karen and I stayed up in Snowmass Village, a mere eighteen miles away from Basalt, so getting there was not a problem, They had one of the largest fields, about 150 runners and 100 of them were women. Makes one wonder why so many women ran this race. The race is mostly downhill, with some flat stretches, too.
I wasn’t sure how my legs were going to perform since I’ve been a mountain biking fool the last few weeks. I biked hard Tuesday up near Frisco for about two and one-half hours. Thursday Karen and I rode the Klondike Bluffs trail near Moab. None the less, my legs did well. Maybe the cross training helped. I ended up running the race in one hour and forty minutes, one of my faster half-marathons. It even rained, actually poured on us for about fifteen minutes. Overall, it was one of my better runs, even placed second in my age bracket. It is always fun when things fall into place in a race.
Before our short stay in Snowmass Village we spent a couple days in Moab. The Arches National Park is pretty cool. It’s worth the ten bucks to get in. They have all kinds of names for the different arches. There’s the Tunnel Arch, the Pine Tree Arch, the Double O Arch, the Sand Dune Arch, the Broken Arch and my favorite, the Golden Arch (especially at breakfast time).
Utah liquor laws are weird. You can only buy liquor by the glass or bottle, no cans. While in the Moab Brewery restaurant bar area, I could order a beer but Karen could not order wine. She would have to be sitting in the dining area. There is one liquor store in Moab and it’s run by the State of Utah. And they have nothing cold, everything is sold warm. Guess by not having cold beer, somehow that makes it okay to sell? There were also a lot of tourists from Europe in Moab. We thought we were in a foreign country based on all the French, Dutch and other languages we heard from those around us. I guess they really appreciate God’s beautiful work in the area. Coming in from I-70 on highway 128 is worth the extra time, too. It’s such a beautiful drive. I only regret not biking the Slickrock Mountain Bike trail even though it looks pretty tough..maybe next time.

Oh, Deer...

2009-08-07T18:50:00.000-07:00

What, another blog about Mountain Biking? Boring. Don’t I have anything else to write about? Yeah, like how my company is implementing a four percent salary reduction starting next month. Evidently, the economy is not looking like it’s going to turn around anytime soon. Either that or they are just taking advantage of the dismal climate and looking to increase the Stockholder’s shares. Either way, my salary will decrease. In lieu of the salary decrease, I did get two more weeks of vacation this year. Maybe I can squeeze out another motorcycle road trip in before the weather turns.
Then there’s tomorrow’s trip out to Springs and Pueblo. Family reunion again, I hope I get to see some of my cousins I haven’t seen in a while. Then there’s Cayden. One of the big joys in my life, I sure love that kid.
Okay, the latest Mountain Bike rides, I know, you couldn’t wait. I got to ride with some guys who work for some companies we buy products and services from and a couple of guys who work for me. Since I am used to riding by myself, it’s good to ride with other guys once in a while. I learn from just watching them ride.
First thing I learned is true Mountain Bikers ride dual suspension mountain bikes. These things aren’t cheap; they run from a couple of grand and up. One guy, Derek, said it was like riding a couch down the mountain. Some day, I may be able to afford one of those but for now I still like my single suspension Gary Fisher. Second thing I learned, true mountain bikers don’t wear tight bike shorts, they wear loose, shorts. Another thing, riding with a bunch of guys brings out the testosterone. Guys fall over, you know crash and they get back up real quick and say, or pretend everything’s all right. Guys also ride fearless. None the less, it was fun. I was able to keep up with the front runners. Derek, who is around twenty-eight years just had to ask me how old I was, guess it was a complement, since I kept up. Don’t get me wrong, steep, hard climbs are just that, hard.
My second ride this week was up Apex. So far all I had done was go down Apex. It looked like a challenge to ride up, so I tried it, problem is the trail is in pretty bad shape. There are a lot of spots where I had to walk the bike. Granted I was tired when I started but it was the hardest trail I have encountered. It kicked my butt and going down Chimney Gulch was treacherous at times, too. Good thing is I didn’t crash once. And I saw about six deer close to the trail. There was one time where I stood about ten feet from a deer as it ate the grassy foliage. Point learned is that not all trails are going to be fun. Rides are good diversions from the mundane aspects of life but even those escapes can be disappointing. Least there is usually a good workout to be had. Well, I am on vacation next week, should have a few opportunities to try some new trails. Wish me happy trails…

Falling Head Over Heels…Literally

2009-08-02T18:26:00.000-07:00

The other night at dinner, Karen was making fun of me for “loving” mountain bike riding so much and also my mountain bike. Little did she know that I was falling head over heels for the sport, only in a different way. You see the other night I was coming down the Apex Trail on my bike and had quite the fall.
I was moving along quite quickly down the mountain, slowing down when necessary. But there was one spot where I ended up on the side of the mountain. I was coming upon a rocky part of the trail and braking only with my back brake and that evidently didn’t slow me down enough. I ended up going down near the left side of the trail. As I, in slow motion it seemed, started to crash I went over the side of the trail. I did a complete somersault over the side. I hit my head on a “soft” rock and thankfully my helmet shielded my noggin. As my feet are going up over my head and then down the side, my brain is trying to process what is happening. The side of the trail/mountain was full of shrubbery and as my feet felt for the earth to stop my descent, surprise, they weren’t finding any. So my natural reaction was to reach up and grab a bush. That worked, I stopped dropping but I wasn’t sure how far I would have fallen since I could not see the bottom. My mind quickly inventoried for any pain and thankfully nothing seemed to be hurt. As I hung there hanging on to the plant that had helped me defy anymore gravitational pulling, I tried to turn around and climb back up on the trail. Eventually I was able to do just that and I was back on the trail.
There was no one around except me and I was extremely thankful that I wasn’t hurt (thanks Lord). Had someone been behind me, it would have been a funny site, seeing this biker do down and then somersault over the bike and then disappear over the side. I’m not sure if I made any sounds during this accident but I usually bark out a grunt or something. I quickly jumped back on the bike and continued my “proper” descent down the mountain. Thankfully there weren’t any more incidents and as I thought through what had transpired I was able to laugh at the episode. Guess I have a lot to learn in my new sport, like how to brake where I actually slow down enough before biffing it. It could have been worse but by God’s grace it wasn’t.

Still Catching Some Air

2009-07-27T04:16:00.000-07:00

Saturday I went on a long motorcycle ride with a few guys from church. I only knew two of the four men. Only two of us had “metric” bikes, the other three had Harleys. Overall it was fun; the best part was stopping to eat lunch and getting to know these other guys a little. But one thing struck me about one of the guys. His name was Rodney and he looked older than me and could have been anywhere from five to ten years older. He was the other guy driving a Japanese motorbike. And what he did when we were up on the Mt. Evans rode, highest paved road in North America by the way, was what impacted me.
There was a section of road that was damaged, had a lot of small rolling hills. Rodney told us when we were stopped at the top that he had “gotten some air” while riding over those small hills. Since I followed him on the way down, I got to see firsthand what he meant. I noticed that he was kind of staying back and what appeared to be a sizing up of an upcoming small hill and then he would gun it and fly over the hill. I thought, “What is this guy doing?” Then he did it one more time, and yes, he did get air, except it looked like he could have lost control on the “landing”, and why not, he was jumping these small hills on a small cruiser, that probably weighed around five hundred pounds. The whole scene made me crack up, watching this “old” guy trying to get a thrill on a section of damaged rode by getting some air. What would make this guy do this? He looked silly but he probably didn’t care about that, he was probably grinning ear to ear, at least until he almost biffed it.
This thing about a man seeking a thrill may be tied into not wanting to grow up. Here he was on a weekend cycle ride and took advantage of a situation while on his bike and did something a guy forty years younger might be expected to do, gassing his motorbike while driving over hills on a paved road. Sure his body has aged but inside he was the same as he probably was forty years ago, at least in his head. He is still the young man who loves a little danger or at least a thrill. Why is that? It’s just the way guys are. We like to be on the edge of danger, getting air or going fast or biking up a single-track on the side of a mountain, something that brings back the thrill of life, even if just for a little while. If we are older maybe it keeps us feeling young.

Mountain Bike Trail Kicks Man's Butt

2009-07-24T17:50:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the hardest mountain bike trail I’ve tried to date. It’s called the Chimney Gulch trail and it kicked my behind up one side of the chimney and down the other. It’s right across the street from the School of Mines football field in Golden, underneath the big M. I was able to get there relatively early, around 4:15 pm and the small dirt parking area only had about five cars compared to it being packed when I left. I wasn’t sure it was the right trail since there was no sign at the trailhead. But I’m learning and took a copy of the trail map with me and finally verified that it was correct when I made the first crossing of the Lookout Mountain Road. The trail crosses it four times during the ride.
The first leg was pretty hard, make that real hard. There are a lot of switchbacks and a lot of loose dirt on the trail…so I was off the bike quite often, walking in order to make the switchbacks. Then the second leg didn’t get any easier. It was steep, almost as steep as the third leg. It was hot, too but I kept at it. Even though I had to get off and walk more than I care to admit, I also pedaled up some pretty steep parts and got in a great workout. There were only four other riders and two hikers on the way up. Two young guys wearing full face BMX helmets had to slam on their brakes as they came around a corner and thankfully saw me. I said sorry guys, as I huffed and puffed past. Then up I continued. I seemed to be drinking a lot of Gatorade out of my Camelback, due to degree of the temperature and the degree of difficulty of the trail. Then as got to the top, I found extra strength to pedal up a rather steep spot. I guess the thrill of making it to the top motivated me. A few people were getting out of their vehicle to enjoy the view and I am sure they were impressed that such an old vato could conquer such a steep mountain. Little did they know that the mountain had kicked my butt, even though it’s only five miles up.
There was one more leg after I crossed the paved road the final and fourth time and the trail became rather lame…somewhat anti-climatic, flat. Yet I wanted to make it to the end so I just followed it. Then it was time to turn around and head down. Heading down a steep trail can be just as tough as going up, only in a different way. It takes a lot of concentration at times and even more braking. I stopped and yielded to a couple of guys who had almost made it to the top. They both told me to have “good ride”, to which I wanted to say, already have. Which seems weird since the ride up was rather difficult at times. All the painful memories must go away after reaching the apex. What a sport, riding a bicycle up a mountain. Thanks Gary Fisher and Tom Ritchey. Anyhow, as has been the case, more riders had arrived to the mountain after they got off work and I had to yield a few times to upward mountain bikers. It’s a little annoying at times but the majority of the people say hi and thanks as they pass, some don’t say anything, they’re probably struggling like I do at times. It took me about one and one-half hours to ride up and about forty-five minutes to come down, made it back to the car after a fast “bio” break in the trees. A couple hang gliders had just landed near the parking area and were packing up their gear. Had good news on my phone, that Cayden was in town and at my house with his parental units. So I had logged another ride. Wonder when the fun will wear off…not yet at least...butt kicking and all!

Argentine Pass

2009-07-18T19:25:00.000-07:00

Attempt number one. I tried climbing a new mountain trail today, the Argentine Pass. Starts either in Silver Plume or Montezuma, CO. I started in Silver Plume, a very small mountain town I have passed many times through the years; it’s between Georgetown and the Eisenhower Tunnel. There were about 15 cars parked on the service road but only one had a bike rack so I figured they were either on the train or hiking. After I finally found the trailhead up I started.
The trail started out as a jeep trail, then eventually became the single-track I saw mentioned about the trail. I didn’t see anyone on it until I came behind two women hiking with a small child. Either I scared the lady that was in back or she was about to pass out from the climb. They let me pass. The aspen trees formed a canopy over the trail, it was pretty cool. Even though I was climbing in elevation and was aware that the view was probably awesome, I kept my eyes on the trail, since I’m pretty new to all this. There were spots in the trail that were narrow and right next to long drop-offs, meaning if one made one little mistake, down the side if the mountain they would go.
I got to a spot where I thought was the summit where there was an old chimney. Evidently it used to be part of an old dance hall back in the day when the surrounding mines were operational. Cool. I kept going and started heading downhill. I wondered if that was it. The road turned back into a jeep road. I came to a fork and the right side headed up so up I followed. An older couple came down in a jeep and I pulled over to let them pass. I could hear water, a river on the lower road so I turned around to take that road. I got to the bottom and sure enough there was a roaring stream. It looked so refreshing. There were also a couple of roads to take. I started to take one that I thought would take me to the place I was Saturday where I saw the white-haired mountain goat. A few more jeeps passed by. I had no idea what road to take so I headed back. For a minute I thought I took the wrong road but I ended up near the chimney and knew it wouldn’t be long before I was back at the car.
A funny thing happened on the way down. I started thinking that if Frank was still alive; he would probably be the one brother who would be up on that mountain with me. The thoughts brought tears to my eyes. I wished he was still alive to do just that. I also remembered the time we were all camping at Ruedi Reservoir. Frank and I were probably in our mid teens. We had gone hiking and came upon a porcupine. It scared us and Frank had his pellet gun with him so he shot at the animal. He ended up shooting his eyes out. We both knew that what he did was wrong; you know maiming that poor animal. Frank told me to never tell anyone about what he did. Why this incident came to me today I’ll never know. Maybe it was being on a mountain trail, thinking about him.
The descent was fairly fast. That’s one aspect of mountain biking, learning how to safely descend. I heard my ring tone from my cell phone in my Camelback. Funny, I had coverage on that mountain. I returned Karen’s call, from the side of Argentine Pass Trail, overlooking Silver Plume and Interstate 70. I guess the bottom line is I didn’t conquer the pass. I took the wrong turn. It’s a three and one half hour trip and I only spent a couple hours on the ride. I’ll have to try the pass trail again.

Mountain Biking

2009-07-15T20:17:00.001-07:00

I’m getting hooked on phonics, I mean Mountain Biking. It started a few weeks ago when I went up to the Lair O the Bear Open Space near Morrison. That ride was cut short due to hail and rain. I decided to go back to the Bear Creek Trail at the Lair last Wednesday, but only made it half way the second time. It kicked my butt yet I still had fun. Then I picked up a new Mountain Bike and decided to have a “rematch” with the mountain at the Lair.
What a difference the new bike made. Its lowest gear was quite a bit easier to pedal than my other bike. In fact it seems like the third gear on the new bike was equal to the fist gear on my old bike. And that minor difference allowed me to ride the entire trail, 12.4 miles out and back. What a blast. It’s a great workout as you climb around 800 feet in the first two and half miles and the even more later. I’ve seen some pretty strained faces on the riders making their way up as I traverse back down. I’ve also heard some funny comments among the riders, usually directed at the newbie’s. Today I passed one guy then ran into his buddy’s farther up. They asked me if I saw their friend and if he was heading the opposite direction. It is a hard ride, especially for beginners.
So even at the ripe old age of fifty, I am off on new adventures. Last Saturday I rode up the jeep rode at Peru Creek, near Keystone. It was pretty and also pretty hard in spots. There was one incline that I had to get off and walk and as a young mom with her two young daughters rode by on an ATV, one little girl said, “He can’t make it can he mom?” Thanks for the commentary little girl.
As I got near the trail head of the Argentine Pass trail I stopped to look at what I thought was a beaver poking his head up over a little hill, probably to look at who was making a little noise. As I walked towards him to get a better look, I found myself about ten feet away from a white –haired mountain goat. He decided to run off, across a little stream and up the other side of the valley. Cool, wish I would have had my camera, or as a Texan would have said, wish I’d had my gun. Anyway, doubt I would have seen the cool looking goat unless I had rode my MB up the hill. Can’t wait to get back out again.

Colorado

2009-07-04T13:56:00.000-07:00

There are many fun things a guy can do up in the Colorado Mountains and the last couple of days Kele and I got to do some of them. Thursday I went to Jefferson Lake and spent a couple of hours drowning night crawlers. It is always so beautiful up there not withstanding the quick changing weather. It rained a couple of times but since I had my rain jacket, I didn’t mind. I didn’t even care that I didn’t catch any trout. Anyway, I beat feet after the wind started blowing towards me.
The next day Kele and I drove our vehicles up to find a new fishing hole. Lloyd had driven over Weston Pass the day before and said he had seen many brook trout in the beaver ponds he had stopped by on his way over the mountain. So onward we went Kele in his Ford F150 four-wheel drive truck and me in my Pathfinder. Going up the east side of Weston Pass the road wasn’t too bad. We stopped by a few ponds and the South Fork, South Platte River. But no luck, so we continued on. After driving over the summit, some 11,900 feet, the road got really rough. We had to traverse really slow at times but it was turning out to be a lot of fun. It’s not often we men get to take our four-wheel drives on treacherous roads.

We stopped a few more times until finally Kele spotted the last beaver ponds we would see before we got off the mountain. We knew it would be better than what we had tried especially when by the time I had grabbed my fishing gear, Kele had already caught his first brook trout. He would go on to catch at least three more keepers. I didn’t catch a one but I still enjoyed the experience. There was one spot where I stood on a rock right next to the river, Big Union Creek. Per Kele’s advice I just let the stream pull my bobber and worm down towards a beaver dam. There more often than not my bobber would be pulled under water time and time again. But I was never able to hook the fish.
I started to talk to my worms, I would tell them, “Look, your only purpose in life is helping me catch a fish. Your sole purpose is once I put you on the hook, sorry about that, is for you to wiggle until you catch the attention of an unsuspecting brook trout. That’s all you gotta do!” Well needless to say, each one let me down. They dropped the ball. Yet the scenery while I stood there for almost an hour was breathtaking. It was so good to be there despite my unsuccessful worm drowning session. The sound of the river is so soothing. The Mountain View, pine and aspen trees, the clear water, it all makes for an awesome time. The sun was out and shining big. Whoever said fishing was boring hasn’t experienced the beauty of the Colorado Mountains.
After that we drove down the rest of the mountain and into Leadville. We stopped in Frisco to get some caffeine. The 5:30 AM wakeup call had finally caught up with us and we need some wake-up juice before headed down the mountain. There was a lot of people in Frisco and I could not believe the gridlock of vehicles coming up the mountain. It was bumper to bumper from about Idaho Springs into Denver. Wow, glad we were getting down early because Sunday it will be the same mess only in the opposite direction.

Slacking…during a Race?

2009-06-28T17:13:00.000-07:00

I ran my third half-marathon for the year Saturday, one they call the Slacker –Half Marathon. The name sure is misleading as I was never able to “coast” (or slack) during the race. None the less, it was a fun race. The weather was perfect and I ran a smart race. The race starts at the Loveland Ski Area and the announced number of entrants was around 1200. Even though the race was supposed to start at 8 AM, last year it started at ten minutes after eight and this year was no different. The shuttle buses kept dropping runners off with the last bus stopping at 7:57 or so. This year Karen came up with me and I didn’t have to hassle with the shuttle. I was able to stay warm in the Pathfinder until right before the start. Usually it drops you off so early and you end up freezing for an hour or so. There were also long lines in front of the twenty or so port-a-potties up to the start time. Then they put everyone behind the starting line rope which is only about 10 feet wide. I squeezed in towards the front and made small talk with some guy until the gun went off.
This race starts a 10,630 feet above sea level and ends at 8,400 feet. The elevation didn’t bother me as it usually doesn’t up in the mountains. The first five miles are on a dirt road. Last year I noticed that there were rocks and was concerned that I might turn an ankle, especially after running past a lady who did just that. This year I expected the rocks and had no ankle incidents, although one had to keep his eyes on the road and not on the scenery. Speaking of scenery, I did run past a young lady who had stopped to make a pee stop just a couple of feet of the dirt road. What was odd about the site was from the back she looked like a guy would, standing up while peeing. Her running shorts were still pulled up, so she must have just created an opening. How she did that I will never know…I guess when you got to go, you…
The race is not all downhill, there are a couple of slight inclines along the way. But there are also spots where one can just tear down the hill. I opted not to wear a stop watch and only asked one guy what his two mile split was. He told me it was 15:30 which meant we were running at a 7:45 minute pace. Not bad but it was early. At least I wasn’t running too fast too early. I also run with my patented lo-tech hydration system. I call it my god system which stands for Gatorade on Demand. I repurpose a disposable water bottle by filling with Gatorade. I just carry it in my left hand and after about the 7th mile I start drinking it. I don’t have to stop at any water stops nor do I have to wait for one to pop up. I also tend to carry my cell phone in my right hand, out of habit from being on-call for IT. I don’t think I’ve ever had to answer it during a race and not sure if I would but if it was someone important from work at least I could return the call after the run.
Once I got off the dirt road I could enjoy the mountain scenery. It was especially an incredible site above the Georgetown Loop Railroad. The path, which runs along I-70, must be about a thousand feet above the railroad in the valley. You can look right over the side and just hope you don’t lose control and run right off the side. They have mileage markers along the route and when I hit mile marker 11, I knew it was almost over. The last mile comes into Georgetown and goes through the streets into downtown. I messed with the heads of some of the people whose job was to point which way to go. At three turns I said, “Which direction do I go?” as they sat there pointing. When they started telling me which way to go I said “just joking”…ha ha. At the last turn you can see the finish line and the clock. And just like last year I was amazed at how fast my time was. Especially since the last mile was so painful. Anytime I can run a half under one hour forty-three minutes, I am happy.
Some young girls were handing our popsicles at the finish line, yummy. Then some guys had a table full of filled, over-filled cups of water. I grabbed one and asked if he could get anymore into the cup. But I could barely finish it as it tasted like crap. So I grabbed a free bottle of Gatorade instead. Then Karen and I headed to the main stage and into the seats at the “beer tent”. We ended up talking about running with a couple of guys for about an hour, Runners usually talk about past races, or the race they just did or future races. Or what happened on the drive to the race. They were giving out ribbons to the top three finishers in each age bracket while we sat there. The top three guys in my bracket finished in under 1:35, pretty fast old guys. Anyway, it was a fun race and it was nice to have Karen with me. Today my legs are really sore. It's hard to walk normal. Glad I get to take a short break from running but I can't wait to do it again.

Storm Chasing...Sort of

2009-06-08T10:24:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was the final day of my vacation and also the last and final leg of the motorbike trip. It’s around 750 miles from Vegas to Northglenn and it took me 11 hours and 20 minutes. I think it might be faster in a car give the fact you don’t have to make as many gas stops. Which reminds me, if I could build my own chain of gas stations I would name them Gas and P…for obvious reasons.
Anyway, I had looked at the weather days before I headed back and saw that there were going to be scattered rain showers from Utah to Colorado on Saturday and only in Colorado on Sunday, hence the reason for waiting until Sunday to head back. I asked a couple motorists at Green River, UT if they had come from Colorado, one said no but said that he knew it was raining in Colorado, really bad. “Sorry” he said but I wondered how he could be so sure. So I asked another person and she said, “the weather is nice.” Yeah, I asked but was there any rain. “Oh, a little in Grand Junction.” She replied. I took her answer instead of the numb nut. When I got to Grand Junction, there was no rain or rain clouds but after talking to Kelly on the cell, she said she saw that it had been raining in Glenwood Springs. So I knew I would eventually catch up with the storm…it was only a matter of time.
I donned my rain gear at the gas station in the “junction” and headed east. I was heating up in all my gear but knew I had to be patient and just deal with it. There was one point where a driver started to steer into my lane and as I honked, he finally saw me and got back in his lane. I never seemed to be in much danger but I wished I had gotten out of his blind spot a little quicker. I kept an eye on that the rest of the trip.
As I got closer to Glenwood the weather got cooler but there was not any rain, just a beautiful drive through the canyon. Where was that pesky rain storm? Then as I got close to Vail, there it was. I knew my new rain suit would be tested really soon. It rained but not too hard. And as I climbed Vail Pass, it got cold, so cold in fact that by the time I hit the summit, I swore those rain drops were snowflakes. I could feel the stress in my shoulders as I wondered in my mind if the road would be slippery anywhere. After crossing the summit, the weather started to clear up and I looked forward to my next fuel and warm-up stop in Frisco. I had caught the storm and passed it. That was the last of the rain and eventually it even got warmer. I have to admit that my butt did feel a little sore there for a while but after the stress left my shoulders, it seemed to leave my behind, too. I’m not saying that I had stress there but it did leave at the same time.
Overall, the last leg home was a good ride. It’s almost always cold going over the mountain passes. It didn’t help that I didn’t sleep very well the night before but it’s hard to get very drowsy on a motorbike. And as much as I enjoyed the road trip it was great to be home, see Karen and Kate and sleep in my own bed. Can’t wait until the next road trip…

Frank

2009-06-05T18:29:00.000-07:00

I got to stop by and visit Frank’s grave today. Almost had to, to honor his memory. Even though he’s truly in a better place, his earthly grave marker is still here. Anyway, the visit made me wonder about him. He would be fifty-three today. I wonder what motorcycle he would be driving today? Would he still be driving his Hayabusa 1300 or a cruiser now? Would he go on a road trip with me? Would he still be lifting weights?
Sad thing is I’ll never know any answers to all these questions. Guess it doesn’t really matter anyway. Point is I miss him. One huge drawback to someone moving on to their final resting place is that you don’t get to keep living them, keep growing older with them or see them maneuver through life. But some day I will see Frank again. Then I can get answers to other question…more important ones at that.

Then there’s Madison, my youngest niece. Hard to believe she’s already five years old. She has a new kitty, Mittens. Her dadpa really loves her and it was good to be able to hang out with Bubba for the day.His new place is pretty spacious.

Coming Back

2009-06-04T18:37:00.001-07:00

Today was the first leg back. I was able to get another “beach” run in before I had to depart the hotel. I ran the opposite direction I did Tuesday and got to see more of the ocean from the boardwalk. I couldn’t believe the number of surfers out in the ocean. Don’t they have jobs? The waves looked high. A lot of old guys were surfing, too. At least they were the ones resting on the boardwalk as I ran by. Running by the ocean is great. The waves crashing, the sunshine, everything. Good runs.
I also had an experience with one of those scary things associated with driving a motorcycle. Some dumb, okay not-so-observant lady pulled out in front of me. Thankfully it wasn’t the dreaded left hand turn. It was a right hand turn. Anyway, she pulled way out, in a wide turn right in front of me. And she didn’t respond to my frantic horn honking. I veered left and thankfully there was not a car in that lane. I missed her and then it sunk in, this stupid driver almost knocked me over. I got so mad at this driver. I had to slow down and show her my displeasure. Of course she wouldn’t even acknowledge me. Her older son did. Made non verbal language that said, what can I say? Gosh, that was close. By the grace of God today was not the day I crashed my motorbike in Huntington Beach.
Anyway, I made it back to Hotel Huntington Beach. Showered, packed and checked out, then headed towards Vegas, roughly 300 miles. I took my time and drove it in about 5 hours. Traffic was light. I didn’t have any more close calls. The weather was cool, until right outside of Vegas. Even Baker was only 91 degrees. I finally had to de-leather (bungee cord my coat and chaps to the T-Bag), I was starting to bake. I traded out my full-face, too. Speaking of which, my bike sure purrs on the highway, which is more noticeable when I wear my half helmet. Going about 80 miles per hour, she just purrs, a really sweet sound. Okay, I’m done.
I get to see my brothers while in Vegas, Victor and Jim and maybe Larry. Terri and Lisa, too. Then I’ll leave either Saturday or Sunday, depending on the forecast. At least I’m still in the game, no thanks to the stupid lady driver.

Road Trip Day 3

2009-06-02T09:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the long leg of the trip, ended up riding around 750 miles in about twelve hours. I’m sure I would qualify for an iron butt award if it wasn’t for my Air Hawk seat cushion. My hiney didn’t get sore at all!
Again Ben Teeples was right, that being how the weather adds to the experience. I went from getting a little cold in the Utah mountains to blistery hot in Baker, CA. It was 99 degrees there as the “world’s tallest thermometer” confirmed. Wonder who came up with that idea? Why would you want to advertise that your city is hot as Hades? I can imagine “Mabel” saying to her husband as they drive by, “Oh look honey, it’s 104 degrees there in Baker, let’s stop and get a room for the night.” No, I think most people say, man it’s hot here, can’t wait to get out of here. Anyway, I did stop there to gas up and take a picture of the thermometer. And there were people there, stopped, getting their needs met. Passing by the next town, Barstow brought back memories of getting off there and heading to Ft. Irwin when Kele, Kelly and Cayden lived there. I almost headed there again just to say hi to the guards or someone.
It was actually pretty warm back in St. George, UT, one of the gas and caffeine stops. I bungee corded my leather coat to the T-Bag there. Being smart, I remembered to apply sun block. But being sloppy, missed a couple of spots, which proceeded to get red by the time I reached Baker. I decided to put my coat back on there which may have raised a few eye brows. But it was a good decision, I needed to cover my arms and the weather did get cool again after I got to the 405 Freeway. In fact, I ended up trading my half gloves for my full since it seemed pretty cool. By then it was around 6:30 PM.
Traffic really wasn’t that bad especially for rush hour. I only had to split the lanes once. I was waiting for another biker to lead the way when I saw one over between lanes next to the HOV lane. I thought, that looks relatively safe since there was more room between those lanes. And I only had to ride that for a mile or so because traffic cleared up again and I was able to get back in the lanes.
I think it was last year that Karen and I had to slit the lanes heading back to Barstow. When I say had, it was because there ended up being an accident farther up ahead and traffic was backed up for miles. That lane splitting experience was tough. It took a lot of concentration and occasionally an impatient motorcyclist “varoomed” me out of their way. So I don’t usually split lanes unless I really need to.
So all in all it was a good long ride. I did have a little trouble finding my exit which ended up adding another 50 miles and another hour to the end of the ride. But even after 13 hours, I could have gone on even longer. Fun stuff, motorbiking. Thanks Lord for the safe journey.

Day 2

2009-05-31T20:12:00.000-07:00

Today was the ride to Moab. Cayden and Kelly gave me a sendoff. I wished I could have taken Cayden with me. Kelly and Kele convinced me to drive the I-25 route to 470 instead of taking highway 24. Turned out to be good advice. A six-lane highway is better and faster than a two or four-lane road. After stopping for breakfast at McD’s,I noticed it was 7:43 as I started to get on the interstate. Despite the forecast of isolated rain, none isolated on me, albeit it got cold, real c-c-c-cold driving up to the Eisenhower Tunnel... cold being around mid forties. I was glad I was wearing my heavy gloves and full-face.
I had a pretty good night of sleep but was missing my usual morning latte around the time I got to Frisco. I needed gas so I went ahead and stopped at a local coffee shop. It both warmed me up and woke me back up. Then back on the road, this time with my ipod blaring in my ears. It was good times…rolling. I could not tell if the clouds were going to let loose on me as I approached Grand Junction. It was warming up and I wanted to switch into my half helmet and lighter gloves…so I did at a rest stop.
Some older lady even told me I sure had a fancy cycle.
I did not regret the change. The weather got warmer and you can sure experience a lot more of the ride with the half helmet. It was especially true when I turned off on Highway 128, the “Scenic Byway” to Moab. It is so beautiful coming into Moab from this road. It is surreal at times. Then it got hot, real hot with my leathers on. It must have been in the mid-eighties. Good day, though…seven hour ride and around 450 miles.

Road Trip

2009-05-29T19:09:00.000-07:00

It’s finally arrived…the annual motorcycle road trip. Today was the first and shortest leg, one hundred miles to Colorado Springs. Even though it’s a bit out of the way, I just had to swing down and see Cayden, Kelly and Kele.
Motorcycle road trips are a blast with a little bit of uncertainty sprinkled in. The weather is one of those uncertainties. Weather.com forecast rain in Monument and sure enough it rained. As I was driving south on the interstate I could see a wall of rain running east and west. Each time the highway took a turn it looked like I would either miss it or end up under the worst part. I debated in my mind if I should pull off and put my rain suit on and full face helmet. I decided to take my chances.
Pretty soon I drove into the rain. The weather got cold real fast. As first it was barely sprinkling but not long after it got a little heavier. At least it didn’t rain buckets. My half helmet didn’t provide any protection for my face and it got wet and cold. The words of one of my biker friends rang in my head, “it’s part of the whole experience”. The worst part of the rain was that my clean bike got dirty. And after driving out from the line of rain, I started to dry off. From there I finished the ride and came into the neighborhood of my daughter’s home. Cayden and Belle were sitting out in front. Kelly told me to drive around back to the garage and Cayden started crying thinking I was already leaving. Then he saw that I didn’t leave and it was all good.
Day one was for the most part uneventful. It did remind me that next time I am heading into bad weather, I need to pull over and get prepared. And it is so good to see Cayden and his parents.

Do Life Together

2009-05-24T19:23:00.000-07:00

When our church came out with the “Do Life” idea, I can’t say I was that convinced that it was what our church needed. But I changed my attitude this go-around and decided to see if I could make any new male Christian friends. I had to see for myself if any good thing could come from it.
Today was my first outing with the Mountain Bike group. Our fearless leader, Jon, led us up to the Lair O’ the Bear trail. The Lair turns out to be a moderate 12 mile out and back bike ride. So Jon, Duke, Kristian and I headed up. We had one slight problem, the sky was overcast, and we just hoped the weather was heading in a different direction than ours. So up we headed. This was my first mountain bike outing of the year; the others had been out a couple times I believe.
A few riders were coming back down, either due to the ominous skies or the fact that it was after 2 PM. We stopped a few times, either to let riders by or because of the difficult trail or to catch our breath, all this within the first couple miles. At one of those stops we noticed that there was something topping the tree. We couldn’t tell was it was. We also heard what sounded like the wind only it was in the distance. I joked that it was the attack of the pine beetles. Then something white dropped, no actually shot to the ground. It was hail, big hail. Some were the size of quarters; some were the size of golf balls. Naturally it caught our attention. Even though the hail was spotty and barely dropping, we wondered if or when all “hail” would break lose. So we started back down. Then the hail did come. We stopped and headed for cover behind a big boulder. The hail that was falling and surrounding us was smaller but still stung when it occasionally hit our exposed body parts. Then rain mixed with the hail started to fall. Jon said if it turns to rain, we better make a break for it and head down. And that’s actually what happened next, so we made our move.
Jon and Kristian led and were moving at a pretty good clip. Duke followed me and we made our way down as it poured. It’s pretty hairy traveling downhill, hairpin turns and all on a bike during a rainstorm. Lighting and thunder added even more “danger”. Then towards the bottom there were large rocks in the trail. A person had to slow way down to maneuver through them. Jon and Kristian maneuvered through with no problem. But I was moving pretty fast because my breaks were wet and not working. I headed towards the rocks and thought I was going to hit them with my front wheel and end up catapulted into the air. But, by God’s grace my front wheel missed the rocks. My grunt alerted Jon and Kristian that I was in trouble…it must have been pretty loud. The only thing that happened was my handle bars were slightly turned, so we continued down after I assured them that I was okay. We all headed to our vehicles and then headed down the mountain. We were all soaked to the bone.
Jon, Kristian and I were able to stop and meet for a quick dinner in Denver West. We spoke about a few things including the adventure. We got to learn a few things about each other. We didn’t pray, we didn’t talk about Jesus but we got to experience a hairy ride together which created some sort of a bond. Even though I not sure how close we will get and how and if the Lord can use this but I do believe it was Him who protected us during the storm and ride. I know I could have been injured or my inexpensive mountain bike could have been damaged but somehow I “dodged the bullet”. We “did life” together, a few of us men on a Sunday afternoon after church. May the Lord use and bless the Do Life Groups for His glory.