Mountain Hurtin'

So I got home after the mountain climb and actually went biking for a while, which was silly, because I was already very tired and such.

When I woke up this morning (Sunday), I had to slide out of bed. My quads were destroyed, my knees were killing me, and my left gastroc had some sort of stitch in it. I spent the day lazing around the apartment. Hurt hurt hurt. I'm not sure if it was just the descent that did this to me, or if climbing up boulders might have had an effect.

Ouch ouch ouch. Advil. Not looking forward to running around during the DNC.

Mountain Climbin'

Got to the trailhead exactly at 7 a.m., just like I had thought. Took some rad photos on the climb up. It was mostly sloping at that point, which lots of rocks, but pretty fun. Got pretty sweaty. Finally ended up on a side trail heading up into Shadow Canyon. It was great. I paused every now and then to drink and chill out. Finally made it into the Canyon. I wonder what the thing looks like from above with no trees, because to me it was a giant rock field. Weird. So I scrambled up that pile forever. Passed the strange man in the orange glasses who said, "You know where this trail goes?" I said NO, and he said, "Neither do I. It's got to have an end."

I disagree with him metaphysically, but I hope his geography is correct.

So I climbed and climbed and found myself stopping more often. I had already swapped out the bandana for my redband, and I wore the bandana around my neck. Climb climb climb. It was nuts. I finally made it to the saddle between Bear and South Boulder. I still chose SB, so I climbed more. Found a screw pine. Kept going.

Finally reached the scree field at the summit. I climbed up and up and up and finally poked my head out over a rock and



That's about what I saw, but with a whole lot of other stuff. Like there had been lots of "noise" and now there was just "silence with substance," or barring that, just silence. It was pretty damn quiet. I could see forever. To the west, the basin and the Rockies proper. To the east, the plains. South Boulder Peak is 8500 some odd feet, higher than Bear and Green, so the view was unobstructed. I stood there for some time. And stood some more. It was really outstanding and breathtaking and I now know that I will certainly mountain again once I get some more glucosamine chondroitin in me. So I sat down on a cold rock away from the little rodents and read some Kahlil Gibran. I spent 50 minutes on the summit, calling Mom and Dad to say HELLO and taking bunches of pictures, then I headed back down, running down most of the mountain.

This was a mistake.

I met a snake along the way, a tiny little baby guy, too. Passed lots of other climbers. Kept running. Ran and ran and ran all the way to the trailhead. Got to the car and headed out.

Two hours exactly up, 50 minutes on the summit, then 80 minutes down. It was a damn fast climb for my first time. And I definitely should have taken it slowerly. Read the post before this and you will understand.

Fixed-Gear Follies

So I've voiced my distrust of fixies before, but today I actually rode with somebody who was on one of the things. It was even weirder watching it up close. So I asked a bunch of questions and the guy was like, "You wanna try it?" As I was inspecting it, he related his near-death experience of revving up really fast on Colfax and then trying to coast.

The thing is: YOU CAN'T COAST ON A FIXED-GEAR BIKE AND THAT'S WHY IT'S CALLED "FIXED-GEAR" BECAUSE THE PEDALS KEEP MOVING EVEN IF YOU'RE NOT.

So I hopped on. I can't say it was comfortable - that whole facing down thing never really meshed with me. And his handlebars were about four inches across. Really tiny. Once I realized how to pilot the damn thing, I took off down the street really, really fast. And did nearly the same thing that he had done his first time. I revved ahead hard and after a time just stopped pedaling and went to leave my legs in a neutral position. They were still clipped in, so I almost rolled the damn thing. It really got the adrenaline pumping. I got off soon afterwards.

I won't say that I distrust the things anymore than I used to, but I do know one thing: If challenged to a race with a fixie, I will most certainly decline. They'll win every time.

Remember: They can't coast.

To truly understand why the things are so popular, this article is a good read. I'm saying this all tongue-in-cheek, because I know that I'm just the sort of guy who might buy one of these damn bikes and fall in love.

The Long March (on wheels)

Driving from northern Illinois to Denver back in August was pretty tiring, even though I was never behind the wheel. I at least had my brother to talk to.

Took off from the farm at just shy of 8 a.m. this morning and headed West, young man. Nobody in the car with me. Silence most of the way. I don't know why I didn't turn on the radio.

Pulled into my neighborhood at 8:25 Mountain Time. Very tired now that I can take my eyes off the road. Now I've just got to find street parking.

Good to be "home."

Warmth

It's getting to be that time again. The days are hot, but the nights are warm enough for t-shirts. I leave the windows open now at night.

When I get out of work, I sometimes stop and breath in deeply. Provided I have enough time to make it to the bus stop, I might even walk slowly. That strange summer night-warmth is just so damn relaxing. Of course, it is still late May. I'm wondering what it feels like in mid-July.

But it's not just a night heat - there's a bit of it during the late afternoon, too. Like being in a car with the windows down and the music turned up very loudly. Hair blows everywhere and you can't take a breath without having too much wind forced down your throat. A drive like that deserves long roads and good friends.

Came to a Bridge

It looks as though I'm going to be staying in the States for the summer. Does this bug me? Sure, it does. I had really, really wanted to get back out there and at the very least do a bit of language training in Anatolia. The big target was, as usual, Central Asia.

So I shall stay in Denver. There is ample time to read and bike and drink tea. Perhaps I'll climb a mountain or two.