That WAS Awful...I mean Awesome!

That WAS Awful…I mean Awesome!

Wow! I really don't know what to say about today. I have never exerted myself more physically or questioned myself more mentally than I did in the first four hours of today's ride. No music today just us and the mountain. (It was not that we were trying to be tough, we couldn't get our iPhones updated to put the new music on and we had cleared the old songs off.) 

Any endurance athlete - runner, swimmer, cyclist, etc. - will tell you that it is the little things that will make or break the ride: you must have comfortable and working equipment, it helps when the conditions are good (low wind, no rain, mild heat), and you have to approach each mile like you did the last. When we set off, I had a slight headache and some heavy legs, but the weather was perfect this morning and our surroundings were an Ansel Adams picture. Conditions were good, surroundings were great, comfort was as to be expected after two days of riding. 

As we enter Rocky Mountain National Park, the mantra that would ring throughout the day was echoed for the first time: "This is awesome!" We climbed together for the first 13 of what would be a 27 mile climb before we finally descended for good. As our climbing paces began to separate us, we decided to break about halfway up the climb…roughly six miles. After about five, we stopped and took some pics, having climbed up to about 10,000 feet from our 8,300 foot start. 

Now, it was at this point that some 300-pound know-it-all decided to tell us that according to his watch, which included an altimeter, we were at 11,000 feet, and that the climb was quite easy once we got around the next switchback. That bastard. We both wanted to believe him, knowing that it was a difficult first six miles, but what the rest of the climb had in store we could not have predicted. As we ascended higher guardrails and traffic became sparse, and each turn (though it brought us closer to the top) crushed our mindsets, looking steeper and longer than the one before. 

Switchback after switchback we climbed, at different paces, on our own. I knew that the plan was to meet at the Visitor Center, which I thought was at the peak of the road. As I passed a visitor center (which happened to be the only visitor center), I decided to keep climbing because the hill kept going, and I didn't see our trail car in the parking lot.. That quarter-mile stretch between the Visitor Center and what I thought was the top of the road was straight into a 30-40 mph wind, along a road with no guardrails. I rode the center and plugged away in my lowest gear. Standing up for the last 50 yards or so, puffing my chest out in triumph, I saw the road begin to turn and go up again for what seemed like eternity, and my spirits were crushed. I pedaled into the pull off, the magnificent view escaping me, and hung my head. With the wind gusting, the sweat from my climb chilling me, and my fingers numb, I tried to look at the positives; they were few. Soon Costello came rolling up in the car to save my psyche, and Brennan soon followed, having been battered by the same hills, and that same pelting wind. I wasn't sure at this point that I wanted to go on. What did I get myself into? This is awful.

But against everything that my mind and body were telling me at that point, we pressed on. I would venture to say that Brennan's mind and body were tempting him not to continue as well, but we weren't about to let logic or reason stop us at this point. We were pummeled by the wind for the next half hour as we reached the top of the road and meandered across the tops of the peaks, taking in the beautiful view when we weren't trying to keep ourselves from being blown off the mountain. And then it happened…the descent.

We rode roughly 27 miles up hill, and now we were ready to free fall for the next 50. All of those beautiful landscapes that we could enjoy on the slow climb to the top flew by as our hands and forearms grew sore from squeezing the breaks. The first 27 miles had taken us three hours, and the next 18 took us less than one. When we could glance off of the road for a moment to recognize our surroundings, "This is awesome," would ring our from one or both of us, as it was clear that the reward was well worth the effort. 

Lunch and then more of the same 2500 more feet of descent. More wind blasted our faces, as we traversed the canyon between Estes Park and Loveland, but the downhill grade allowed us to keep a nice pace, completing the last 30 miles in about 90 minutes. 

Pulling into the parking lot of the motel, I realized that they only part of the ride that is under my control is my mental state, pushing to keep me going. Along the way there will be things that boost that mental state (like conversation and camaraderie in the difficult parts of the ride - thanks Brennan), and there are things that will kill your mental state (like unsolicited advice from ignorant bystanders and a strong wind holding you up). The trick to getting through is to remember why you grew the moustache in the first place: to experience the country in a way that most people never will, to hang out with friends doing something you enjoy, and to get to the peak/meal/beer that wait when you reach that proverbial (or literal) finish line. Today was awesome!