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!

Day Two: JC Can Save America!

That GIF you see above you may be the greatest accomplishment I've had on a Moustache Ride to date. Sure, Brennan and Jason are climbing mountains in record time, but I took about 7 minutes to master the art of the GIF. You're all welcome!

Start: Empire, Colorado
Lunch: Sharky's Eatery in Fraser, Colorado
Dinner: Sagebrush BBQ in Grand Lake, Colorado
End: Bighorn Lodge in Grand Lake, Colorado
Today's biking distance: 60 miles
Total biking distance: 118 miles
Today's elevation: ~3,000 feet

Total biking elevation: ~6,334 feet

The guys started their day knowing that the first 12 miles would be the toughest, as they'd have to climb most of their elevation in that section. They triumphantly got to the top, where the Continental Divide presents numerous photo ops (such as that GIF I'm overly proud of).

Our lunch stop found us in Fraser, Colorado, home of the Chocolate Festival on June 22nd (we just missed it, though it would have conflicted with Empire's Frog Rodeo anyway). Sharky's Eatery was our lunch stop, and also the place where we were finally asked what the deal was with our moustaches. We think the nation has gotten used to this tradition. Anyway, our waitress asked no follow-up questions we explained our facial hair, so we took that as a sign that she was less than impressed. Regardless, a fine lunch was had.

 

We saw this on the road to Grand Lake. We're not alone!

Our end point was Grand Lake, CO. It has a grand lake. It's really grand. See how grand it is?!

Grand Lake is one of those old mountain towns settled in the 1880s and currently home to an inordinate amount of ice cream shops. We're not complaining, mind you. Just stating the facts. After getting cleaned up we walked down to the main strip of town, and found another outstanding watering hole, the Lariat Saloon (our 2nd saloon of the trip!). Most of the patrons, clearly regulars, had sweet 'staches, so we fit right in. It's one of those bars that's covered from wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling in beer signs, local t-shirts, and a large variety of taxidermied animals, including a horse's ass. But the hightlight was seeing on the ceiling an old campaign poster. I'll let it speak for itself:

We ended with dinner at Sagebrush BBQ, which was outstanding. So much so that I got a pint glass to add to our home collection (which you can see here, if you're curious). We sat in window seats, and overhead two high school girls laughing at our moustaches. The nerve!

And so we rest up at the Bighorn Lodge, preparing for tomorrow. Tomorrow is the beast. Trail Ridge Road. We ain't messin' around this year!

What makes you go?

What makes you go?

I recently read an article in Bicycling Magazine that talked about "losing yourself" in the hill. From my understanding (and I am an English teacher), his meaning was that you can get lost in your thoughts, in the scenery, in anything but the daunting physical task at hand. Now anyone who knows me or has heard me tell a story, will attest to the fact that I have no problem getting lost in my thoughts. So, facing the first 13 miles of today's ride - a 2700 foot climb up the Berthoud Pass - I figured I would trying getting "lost" in the mountains. To aide Brennan and I in our effort to transcend ourselves for the nearly two hours as we pedaled away, we turned to music, and with an earbud in our right lobes we set off from Empire not knowing what the mountain or the elevation had planned for us.

The miles ticked away slowly, so I tried to focus in on the scenery - streams cascading down the sides of mountains, snow-capped peaks in the distance, beetle-plagued trees ripe for forest fire kindling. Then the mind began to wander beyond that…what would I do if a forest fire broke out? What about a rock slide or an avalanche? How would I survive if trapped with the gear I had on me in my pockets and seat pack? It was at about this point that I decided that losing myself in my own thoughts was too damn morbid to continue with that method of hill climbing. Not knowing the horrors of each others' mind and knowing we were a little over halfway on our climb, we mutually decided it was time for a break.

Refreshed we started back up the hill, knowing the more difficult half awaited us, and I decided I needed to change my mental strategy; this time I turned to the music. I had been listening to Television's Marquee Moon for the first part of the hill. An album that is great musically, and allows your mind to wander as you get lost in meandering guitar solos and catchy hooks. But this was time to get serious, and, even though Jock Jams alluded my musical collection, I knew there was something in there to get me to the top. It was Led Zeppelin's IV. Mountains, hedgerows, Moordor, big-legged women…rock and roll! Page and Plant propelled pedal after grinding pedal until I reached the top, and realized that getting "lost" means finding what makes you go. 

We took some pics at the top of the pass, which also happens to be the Continental Divide, and celebrated our longest continuous climb of the trip to this point. Refueled and knowing the next 18 miles were downhill, spirits were high and the bikes seemed to ride themselves to lunch. In fact, at that point it is more paying attention to make sure you don't hit gravel, potholes, cars, construction vehicles, etc. We didn't, and cruised through Winter Park and into Frasier with no problems. Although there was construction that forced us to fly down the middle lane of a three lane road with traffic on either side…a bit sketchy. But we made it, little did we know that a lunch gem awaited us in Frasier, CO…Sharky's Grill (see pics below). Costello came through once again with a place that would rejuvenate with the decor and the meal. 

After lunch was relatively uneventful: 32 miles (relatively flat), mild wind cross/against us, a few cool places (see pics below of the aptly named Mustachios), and some beaches (on the shores of Grand Lake). We got in earlier than expected, which gave us more time to drink beer on the porch of our seedy motel. Fuel for what will help us climb the highest continuously paved road in the world.

Day One: Up and Let's Go!

'Merican Moustaches

Start: Brennan and Haley's apartment in Denver, Colorado
Lunch: The Little Bear Saloon in Evergreen, Colorado
Dinner: The Alpine Restaurant & Bar in Georgetown, Colorado
End: Empire, Colorado (though staying at the Georgetown Mountain Inn)
Today's biking distance: 58 miles
Total biking distance: 58 miles
Today's elevation: 3,334 feet

Total biking elevation: 3,334 feet

The night before the ride, we went with the casual approach, attending a farewell party for one of Brennan and Haley's friend at The Thin Man, followed by a lovely home-cooked dinner by Haley. We casually discussed the route for the following day, but felt that our previous three years of experience merited a more casual approach to the planning. And for Brennan and Jason, that was largely true.

For myself, the inability to get my GPS working, and failure at finding lemon and lime Gatorade mix resulted in a shaky start to the trip. Still, the boys persevered, and in fact thrived as they arrived at our first planned stop for the day before I had even left Brennan's apartment. That first stop was Red Rocks Amphitheatre. While we didn't stick around for the showing of Mean Girls scheduled for tonight ("you go Glenn Coco"), Brennan and Jason did get to ride their bikes on the stage.

Red Rocks is open to the public...those people are not there to cheer on Brennan and Jason.

Riding on the Red Rocks Stage. Take that, Dave Matthews!

the view from the stage

I next met to boys in Evergreen, Colorado for lunch. The Little Bear Saloon quickly became perhaps our favorite food stop in Moustache Ride history, as we entered an historic building with graffiti carvings in the all-wood decor, license plate and street sign-covered walls, and a music stage covered in bras. We've got some video of my walk through the place, which I'll work on posting soon. In the meantime, here are some pics.

Nothing says Colorado like a 6-ft. wood carving of Coors Banquet's logo!

Rarely do bands have the confidence to wear bike shorts.

Brennan sneaks a feel of the ever-illusive three-breasted bra.

After lunch, I did my usual drive ahead of the guys to find a suitable motel. Unfortunately, they were finishing their day in Empire, Colorado, which only has one bed and breakfast (meaning, completely out of our class, maturity, and price range). Still, I told the guys to meet me at Lewis Sweet Shop in Empire, CO, primarily because I wanted a milkshake. It turned out to be a great choice, as the owners Peggy and Bernie were eager to give us dinner recommendations and share biking stories with Brennan and Jason.

No clue what a "frog rodeo" is

Peggy and Bernie's joint....they would think my wording there was funny, trust me.

Adorable, much?!

We ended the night at the Georgetown Mountain Inn, which was conveniently located next to one of Peggy and Bernie's recommendations, the Alpine Restaurant & Bar. Good food and good brews refueled the guys, so they'll be ready to go tomorrow.

The Alpine has a train running about the bar room, in honor of it's former life as a train depot.

Our cabin for the night.

Tomorrow will send Brennan and Jason to Grand Lake, which will be roughly 70 miles or so. They'll handling the mountainous terrain extremely well, considering their previous travels over the relatively flat landscapes of Kentucky, Indiana, Texas, and Louisiana.

PS: Shout out to KGOAT Radio for their great tunes. My iPod isn't cooperating, so the support vehicle hasn't been the music haven that I hoped for. But KGOAT, which is advertized on the highway as a travel information station, was spinning Arcade Fire, Daft Punk, The Shins, and Animal Collective. Now that's what I call quality travel information!

These Mountains are Hilly

These Mountains are Hilly

Sammy Hagar told me a long time ago that I can't drive 55. For the last 25 miles of today's first leg of the Rocky Moustache Ride, I was wondering if we would be able to ride 55. Through the multiple training rides this year of 25-40 miles, through the 104 miles in the Horsey Hundred and 100km (62.7 miles) in the Ride Cincinnati, I have ridden the rolling hills of Kentucky in and out of both the Kentucky and Ohio river valleys multiple times to get ready to ride in the Rocky Mountains. The first day was supposed to ease us in with a manageable 55 miles. Everyone kept telling me that "you can't train for the elevation." Today the elevation was a non-factor even though we climbed from 5200 feet (in Denver) to 8601 feet (in Empire, CO).  (Now that is total elevation gain. That does not count every time we descended and had to re-climb those feet to get to our total elevation and the couple hundred feet up to the parking lot of Red Rocks.) No not the elevation today...it was the hills. Both Brennan and I prepared ourselves for a few long climbs, and we thought we knew where all of them were. We did not. First 20 miles were all bike trail coming out of Denver and into the scenic Red Rocks Amphitheater, where Brennan and I hung out, waited for Costello, and rested while all other people there killed themselves working out (that would come later for us).

Knowing that the stretch into Evergreen would be all up hill, we began the slog. Enough cannot be said for knowing how long a hill, in this case 11 miles, and what is waiting for you at the top, in this case lunch. We spent the next hour grinding it out around turns, in and out of the saddle, and trying to enjoy the few downhills and the slight wind at our back. We rocked that hill, and both felt pretty good knowing that the longest hill was out of the way. Lunch - at the Little Bear Saloon - was perfect: bras hanging from the ceiling, suggestive license plates, and people's names carved in the tables, chairs, and walls. No complaints on the food as it fueled us well for the second half of the day. 

Once again, we knew that we had a shorter but steeper climb for about 4-5 miles out of Evergreen. Done. Is this all the Rockies has to offer? It was at this point that my mindset changed. I (foolishly) let myself believe that the last 20 miles would be easy. After another hour, several grueling (shorter and steeper) hills, we reached Idaho Springs. Brennan tried (without much success) to fix shifting issues that plagued him all day long. With 10 miles to go we remounted, and thug raindrops (I am talking the size of water balloons) that we had been running from all day long began to fall, with little pieces of sleet inside to boot. We outran the rain and ran into our last, and completely unexpected, climb of the day. 1100 feet of climb over the last 9.5 miles kicked our tired butts.We rolled into Lewis Sweet Shop in Empire, CO, and there was hospitality and sweet treats waiting for us. As we sat down and chatted with owners Bernie and Peggy, they told us all about their eclectic little restaurant and all the ins and outs of the area. We left full of milkshakes and many options of eateries for dinner as approved by our new friends. 

This was the toughest 55 miles I have ever done. Brennan seconded the sentiment. And I realized that part of what made it so difficult was the climbs. They punished us, no doubt. But the bigger issue was our changed mindset, thinking that those last 10-15-25 miles would somehow be easier was a mistake. We could, and did, ride 55 today, and these mountains are no joke. Heading up over 11,000 feet tomorrow, so I think it safe to say we won't be overlooking anything tomorrow. Time for beer, pizza, sports (watching), and rest.

We're Ba-ack!

We're Ba-ack!

Every year, except for last year and all years before 2009, we set out on an epic journey where the four great elements - man and moustache, bicycle and beer - converge on a geographically random location to test physical endurance and mental fortitude over five grueling days. This year's scientifically chosen (read: throwing dart at map) route will take us through some of the most demanding terrain that we have faced…the Rocky Mountains. We have rollicked through the rolling hills of horses and bourbon distilleries in Kentucky, grinded through the flat and never-ending cornfields and wind farms of Indiana, and braved the heat of the Texas gulf coast and bayou swamps of Louisiana. This year's ride will take us to new heights, literally, as we cross the Continental Divide a few times, and reach altitudes of 12,000 feet. Though the outcome of our bodies acclimation to this physically demanding challenge is unclear, our moustaches are strong as ever, and we will derive power, as did Sampson, from our hair…of the facial variety. So, as you sit in your office, feel free to live vicariously through our pictures, words, and video, and hopefully we can give you enough interesting material that you don't have to do any real work this week. Enjoy!