Happy Douchegiving

Watch Elizabeth Banks get hotter as she explains all that is "Douche".

Ouch.

Raced 'cross yesterday for the first time in September. It sucked, I sucked. The decision to race over the last couple of months has been based on the race's proximity to my home, whether or not I happen to be working at the time of the race and if I'm in town to actually attend the race. Since September there haven't been many opportunities to race. I went home for a wedding, I've been working weekends here and there and on the weekends I didn't have to work the races were two hours away and gas was over four bucks. So no racing quickly turned into no training either.

Yesterday I witnessed first hand how others who have been racing all season have progressed where as my fitness has drastically declined. I crashed on the first lap, had a bike and its rider land on top of me and I managed to get lapped by the two race leaders who by the way, I was able to hang with back in September.

Today was better though, kind of. On Thursday I managed to talk a couple of friends into "ringing the peak" with me. At 6:30 this morning a co-worker, myself and Doug the Hammer headed out and rode our 'cross bikes from my house up some stupid steep gravel roads out to Cripple Creek and went around Pike's Peak. The ride consisted of nearly 80 miles of pain in under 6.5 hours. Just under 6,000 feet of elevation gain, most of which happened in the first 12 miles. This ride was ridiculous but I'm glad I did it. I'm exhausted.

Wild, Wild, Wildlife

Just got back from a lil solo night ride mission to the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo. On my way to say hi the caged creatures I came across plenty of animals lurking in the darkness. There was a fox digging in someone's front yard. I see foxes all the time around here. I saw one yesterday at the beginning of my ride. I almost hit two deer who were walking really slowly across the street in front of me, passed a few more deer in some rich dude's yard, something that resembled a mountain lion (probably another fox) in the distance, and another fox (probably the same one I had seen earlier) on the way back. I saw a coyote earlier today while walking my dog around the neighborhood.

There are lots of "Missing Cat" posters in the area. Hmmm, I don't think your precious kitty is coming back, children.

I love my hood for many reasons. The wild, wild, wildlife is one of them.

A New Direction on an Old Road

Colorado Springs is home to an old narrow gauge railroad that used to take supplies and laborers through the mountains to Cripple Creek. The rail bed still exists but the rails trains are long gone and it is now a road traveled by tourists on scenic drives, 4x4's looking for challenging terrain, motorcycles on their way to legal (and illegal) trails and, the occasional cyclist. It is called Gold Camp Rd.

As an intern at the Academy's Outdoor Adventure Program, I have ridden my bicycle numerous times on this road as a guide for our customers. However, when we took customers on these rides we drove them to Cripple Creek and then ended the ride some 30 miles back in the Springs. About 99% of that 30 miles is downhil. At an elevation of 9,494 feet, that means there is over 3,000 feet of elevation lost on that ride.

Since the first time I took customers on this ride I have wanted to do it in the opposite direction. Springs to Cripple Creek by gravel, Cripple Creek back to the Springs by way of pavement thru Woodland Park. I'm guessing it would be around 100 miles. Not too bad considering the last 30-plus miles would be downhill at high rates of speed.


Well, I had the day off today and I felt a little inspired after enjoying my ride yesterday. The plan was not to complete the big loop that I just described. The plan was to head up Old Stage Rd and come down at Gold Camp Rd where the old tunnel burned and collapsed several years back.

The ride may have been my most difficult challenge on a bicycle to date. To give a better perspective on the old Narrow Gauge railroads, they weren't like the long locomotives that you see rolling across flat ground today. These were short little things with only a few cars and apparently the had some power cuz these grades are a lot steeper than the rail-to-trail bullshit you see in the midwest.

I started from my house, went towards the Broadmoor and headed up Old Stage Rd which is paved for about a mile, probably less, before turning into the gravely mess. As soon as I hit Old Stage, I knew it was going to be a long day. I had just started the climb, went to shift up (to an easier gear) but I was already out of freakin' gears. I figured that this would be the steepest and hardest part of the ride, so I put my head down, found a rhythm and focused on keeping my shoulders still.

I reached the gravel and the grade lessened a bit but it wasn't a break. I was still climbing and still out of gears. I had been climbing for probably 15 minutes and a road sign said ".8" indicating that I had climbed less than a mile in 15 minutes. I finally hit some flat spots in the road and a couple decents and was having a blast. I thought for sure the hardest part was behind me. Railroad grade, right?

Eff that! I spent most of the afternoon wishing that I had my mountain bike cassette on the back wheel of my bike. A 32 would have let me spin up those hills, enjoy the scenery and sing sweet songs to myself as I took it all in. Instead my legs felt like they were being ripped off and my lungs felt like a fire was burning deep inside. I kept waiting for the legs to seize up or for me to just give up and have to walk a bit. It never happened though.

One of my favorite things about cycling is when I hit that "high" and all the inspiring thoughts that go thru my mind. I feel like anything is possible once I get that "high" on my bike. I think "happy thoughts". Instead of, "I hate my job" and "What am I doing with my life?" the thoughts turn into, "Wow, I can't believe I thinking about taking a job in Florida, this place is amazing!" and "Yeah, work sucks but this is in my backyard". These "happy" thoughts are all happening at the same time that I'm also going thru some serious pain.

My legs were barely spinning my bike up that mountain today. Every pedal stroke was a serious grind. There were even a couple of times that I swore I had stopped moving but I never got off my bike. Each time I came to a new hill I just knew that my destination was right around the corner. At least I had hoped so because I also knew that my legs didn't have enough to make it up another climb. But the end of the climbing wasn't around any of the bends or after any of the hills. The end didn't come until I let go of thoughts and forgot about the pain.


When I finally got to the Old Stage/Gold Camp split I was tempted to keep pedaling up. I had forgtten about the pain and the difficulty of that climb. Instead, I went with the plan to descend Gold Camp and I enjoyed almost every second...except the deep snow on all the north facing sides of the mountain. And that effin' tunnel! I have been thru that thing several times but today there was zero sunlight and it really threw me off. I had to stop and get my bearings in the middle of the tunnel.

So this post got wierd, it took a turn but, I had to share. Today I had "one of those rides". It was amazing and I hope I can keep cycling. It keeps me positive, keeps me thinking rationally.

Back in the Saddle

After a two week hiatus from cycling I finally had some motivation to ride again. Beautiful weather and a half day at work was all the inspiration I needed. With the cross bike as the chosen trusty steed for the day, I headed up Gold Camp Rd. in search of some good 'ol gravel and miles of climbing.

My legs immediately let me know what two weeks off the bike will do. Damn. My fitness is certainly lacking since moving to Colorado. I work too much and my schedule is too sporadic to be on any kind of training schedule. I haven't even raced since September. Yikes.

I climbed several miles of pavement passing plenty of trails that I still need to explore. I passed several group rides going the opposite direction, passed a few weekend warriors and came upon a pilot from Washington who rented a shitty bike from me the day before. He was keeled over at the top of his first climb. I stopped and talked to him for a minute.

Carrying on, I passed a couple more people once I hit the gravel. I saw a dude in a Carmichael Training Systems kit who was just around the bend. For some reason I always try to hammer those CTS kit wearing folk into the ground. Maybe just to show that you don't need to pay Lance's coach to become a decent rider. So I catch the guy, say hi, slide past and pick up my pace just a bit, trying not to make it too obvious. Ah, nice and easy, he certainly won't be trying to hold my wheel. I passed him way too easily.

About five minutes of climbing go by, I go through the first tunnel, look down at my rear tire, it feels low. It looks good but while looking down, I realize that the CTS rider is on my wheel. WTF? I pick it up a little bit, again, trying to be discrete about it.

Nearing the last mile or so, I can't hold the pace anymore so I move to the left, leaving room for this guy to take a pull. We trade some words. "I was just trying to see if I could hold your wheel" he says. I respond with, "Yeah, I didn't even know you were back there till a second ago." He pulled to the top of the climb and we talked for a few.

Turns out homeboy (Jim) is an editor for Chris Carmichael. "Doesn't Chris live in the Springs?" I asked the guy, even though I already knew the answer since I've raced against the chubster. Jim tells me, "Yeah, actually he lives right there, on the last switchback of that climb."

That climb is the hardest climb in the Springs and one of the toughest in Colorado. I've done it twice in five months and it starts just under two miles from my driveway. It sucks. It hurts. No wonder Mr. Carmichael brings his clients there to train, his driveway is near the top of the climb.
Crazy. I love the Springs. Large concentrations of big time racers live in Colorado but most are in Boulder, Ft. Collins or other towns. I knew Carmichael lived in the Springs but, I had no idea he lived on my street, just a few miles down.

Now, where is Compton? Katie Compton, not the city made famous my your favorite rappers.

Dan le Sac vs. Scroobious Pip

Thou Shalt Always Kill




Thou shalt not steal if there is a direct victim;

Thou shalt not worship pop idols or follow lost prophets;

Thou shalt not take the names of Johnny Cash, Joe Strummer, Johnny Hartman, Desmond Dekker, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix or Syd Barrat in vein;

Thou shalt not think that any male over 30 that plays with a child that is not their own is a paedophile, some people are just nice;

Thou shalt not read NME;

Thou shalt not stop liking a band just because they have become popular;

Thou shalt not question Stephen Fry;

Thou shalt not judge a book by its cover;

Thou shalt not judge Lethal Weapon by Danny Glover;

Thou shalt not buy Coca Cola products;

Thou shalt not buy nestle products;

Thou shalt not go into the woods with your boyfriend bestfriend, take drugs and cheat on him;

Thou shalt not fall in love so easily;

Thou shalt not use poetry, art or music to get into girls pants……use it to get into their heads;

Thou shalt not watch Hollyoaks;

Thou shalt not attend an open mic and then leave as soon as you have done your shitty little poem or song you self righteous prick;



Thou shalt not return to the same club or bar week in & week out just because you once saw a girl there that you fancied that your never going to talk to anyway;

Thou shalt not put musicians and recording artists on ridiculous pedestals no matter how great they are or were;

The Beatles. Were just a band.
Led Zeppelin. Just a band.
The Beach Boys. Just a band.
Sex Pistols. Just a band.
The Clash. Just a band.
Crass. Just a band.
Minor Threat. Just a band.
The Cure. Just a band.
The Smiths. Just a band.
Nirvana. Just a band.
The Pixies. Just a band.
Oasis. Just a band.
Radiohead. Just a band.
Bloc Party. Just a band.
Arctic Monkeys. Just a band.
The next big thing. Just a band.

Thou shalt give equal worth to tragedies that occur in non-english speaking countries as to those that occur in english speaking countries;

Thou shalt remember that guns, bitches and bling where never part of the four elements and never will be;

Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music;
Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music;
Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music;
Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music;

Thou shalt not pimp my ride;

Thou shalt not scream if you wanna go faster;

Thou shalt not move to the sound of the wickedness;

Thou shalt not make some noise for Detroit;
When I say “hey” thou shalt not say “ho”;

When I say “hip” thou shalt not say “hop”;

When I say, he say, she say, we say “make some noise”…..kill me;

Thou shalt not quote me happy;

Thou shalt not shake it like a Polaroid picture;

Thou shalt not wish your girlfriend was a freak like me;

Thou shalt spell the word phoenix : P-H-E-O-N-I-X not P-H-O-E-N-I-X regardless of what the oxford English dictionary tells you;

Thou shalt not express your shock at the fact that Sharon got off with Brad at the club last night by saying “is it?”;

Thou shalt think for yourselves;

And thou shalt ALWAYS kill.

Cross is Taking Over!

This past weekend Oregon's Alpenrose cross series saw 1,267 registered racers. That is almost unfathomable. I raced in Boulder last weekend and I think there were almost 300 people racing. I can't imagine 4 times that amount of people in one park, racing bicycles. That number does not include the number of spectators that are at the races in support of friends and family, drinking beer and trying to figure out what all the commotion is about. It is really fantastic news for the sport.

For those who don't know what cyclo-cross is, you really need to check it out in order to fully understand the chaos. You don't need to enjoy bicycle racing to be able to enjoy cyclo-cross. I think the combination of atmosphere, racers attitudes and the shorter length of races (45-60 minutes) are what makes 'cross so enjoyable for almost anyone to participate and compete. Here's a clip of Pure Sweet Hell that does a pretty good job of putting the pain and fun of 'cross into perspective: Pure Sweet Hell I have still not yet seen the full movie but this clip gives me goosebumps and really gets me excited for 'cross everytime I see it.

On a side note, I fell in love with Colorado all over again during my first 'cross weekend. At Boulder's Interlocken park race I met a former Carbondalian, Courtney Gregory who is on the Mafia Racing squad. That dude is a clown but he is gooood. I also was able to compete against an Olympian...a female Olympian who managed to kick my ass, along with 72 other dudes asses. Georgia Gould was put in the 3's race and on about the 4th lap of the race she came cruisin' up on my wheel. I let her pass, held her wheel for about a minute and then let it go and continued sucking wind for the rest of the race.

In the Men's Open race that day, Matt Pacocha, a writer for VeloNews dominated the field. He won handily. He conquered the uphill barriers with ease and made the sand pit his biotch. On Sunday, I flatted at the line-up for the 3's race and the officials let me race in the Open field. That made me feel a little nauseous since none other than Matt Pacocha was parked next to me in the lot with his $9,000 Time cyclo-cross bike. After warming up and sizing up (determining how bad each guy is gonna whoop me) all the competion I pull up to the back of the line and next to a dude in a full Garmin/Chipotle/Slipstream skinsuit. The name on his bike said, Tom Hopper. He turned to me and said, "Can you believe this is only my first race this year?" I was pretty much in the same boat but told him he'd have a pretty good shot at placing in front of me. Ah well, I was excited to race with a couple pros and just complete the full 60 minute effort. As it turns out, Matt Pacocha flatted and DNF'd (even with a full bike in the pit) and Tom Hopper is one of the Team Slipstream mechanics (but he still kicked my ass). To top it off, Katie Compton (also a CO Springs resident) raced up at the Copper Mountain Cross races this weekend in the 3's field. I'm kicking myself for not going up there.

So anyway, to sum up this blog entry, 'cross is rad and I suggest everyone go to at least one race to check it out, Colorado is awesome and I'm now a resident, I'm way out of shape from not racing this year and tomorrow I'm headed to Loveland for a ski/snowboard technician class B.S. thing. Here's about 12 seconds of pain from Boulder's 'cross race last weekend:

Manly Bike For Sale

Found this on Liz Hatch's blog:

What kind of bike? I don’t know, I’m not a bike scientist. What I am though is a manly guy looking to sell his bike. This bike is made out of metal and kick ass spokes. The back reflector was taken off, but if you think that deters me from riding at night, you’re way wrong. I practiced ninja training in Japan’s mount Fuji for 5 years and the first rule they teach about ninja biking is that back reflectors let the enemy know where you are. Not having a rear reflector is like saying “FUCK YOU CAR, JUST TRY AND FIND ME”.

The bike says Giant on the side because it’s referring to my junk, but rest assured even if you have tiny junk that Giant advertisement is going to remain right where it is. I bought this bike for 300 dollars from a retired mercenary that fought in both World War 1 and World War 2 and had his right arm bitten off by a shark in the Phillipines while stationed there as a shark handler. When he sold it to me I had to arm wrestle him for the honor to buy it. I broke his arm in 7 places when I did. He was so impressed with me he offered me to be his son but I thought that was sissy shit so I said no way.

The bike has some rusted screws, but that just shows how much of a bad ass you are. Everyone knows rusted screws on a bike means that you probably drove it underwater and that’s bad ass in itself. Those screws can be replaced with shiny new ones, but if you’re going to go to that trouble why not just punch yourself in the balls since you’re probably a dickless lizard who doesn’t like to look intimidating.

The bike is for men because the seat is flat or some shit and not shaped like a dildo. If you like flat seated bikes you’re going to love this thing because it doesn’t try to penetrate your ass or anything.

I’ve topped out at 75 miles per hour on this uphill but if you’re just a regular man you’ll probably top it out at 10 miles per hour. This thing is listed as a street bike which is man-code for bike tank. The bike has 7 speeds in total:

Gear 1 - Sissy Gear
Gear 2 - Less Sissy Gear
Gear 3 - Least Sissy Gear
Gear 4 - Boy Gear
Gear 5 - Pre-teen Boy Gear
Gear 6 - Manly Gear
Gear 7 - Big Muscles Gear

I only like gear 6 and 7 to be honest.

Additionally, this tool of all immense men comes with a gigantic lock to keep it secure. The lock is the size of a bull’s testicles and tells people you don’t fuck around with locking up your bike tank. It tells would-be-thieves “Hey asshole, touch this bike and I’ll appear from the bushes ready to club you with a two-by-four”.

Bike is for 150 OBO (and don’t give me no panzy prices).

This One's for You, Dad

Although you won't be going through chemo and I can't be with you while you go through these tough times, I felt that I could do something small that will remind me of you and what you will endure every day.

I shaved my head.
I guess you can call it a form of symbolism. I call it trying to relate. I know what I'm going through with the awkwardness of looking at my white dome, the funny looks from passersby, the comments from co-workers and friends are not even close to comparable to the seriousness of what you will be going through for the next few months and possibly (hopefully not) years of your life.

This is the least I could do to let you know that I'm pulling for you and thinking of you everyday.

You know, Sara & Matt make fun of me not only for looking like you, but having similar mannerisms. For years it has been their trump to anything I would make fun of them about. Nobody wants to be like their parents when they are young.

But you know what Dad? You are, and have always been a great father to all of us, even to children that weren't your own. You have always been willing to help others in life. I mean, you even put up with Marky when he wanted to learn how to play every sport that Sara & Matt played. Somehow, someway, you made time to make your way to, or at least make an attempt to attend your three kids' athletic games even when they were in three different, distant locations on the same day.

You worked your ass off in order for your children to be able to play any sport they wanted. I want you to know that we all understand the extra hours you must have put in so that we could play club soccer and baseball and go to tournaments on the weekends. And what's more, you were always there.

When we go out around Wau-Town you are a freakin' hero to so many younger guys. I see these kids come running up to you and they just want to talk about old times when they were growing up and hang out with you. I hardly know who half of them are but I just assume that you coached them in baseball. You know, not every dad gets that kind of response from a kid. You are a pretty freakin' special guy.

I'm proud to be like you, Dad.

Peace, Keep it real...You know the rest.

Now get your ass out to Colorado like you've always wanted to do!

Yet Another Sick Ride

I don't think I have ridden four days in a row since I moved to Colorado. If not for Thursday's Black Keys/My Morning Jacket show at Red Rocks I'd have ridden seven straight days. It's sad that I don't ride much, I know. I wish I could say I've been busy with this internship the whole time but I can't. I've had plenty of free time and I always think about riding but when it would come down to it, I was just too lazy to get out and do it.

I have to thank Lee from Criterium Bicycles since he has become a big influence in my riding over the last month. So thanks, Lee for re-lighting that spark.

Over the last four days I have ridden four new trails. Colorado is amazing. I'm in the Springs, this isn't even a mountain bike destination and there is probably more accessible trail from my doorstep than there is in all of Illinois.

So anyway, today I met Lee and five others at Balanced Rock in Garden of the Gods for a ride up Rampart Range road and into the Williams Canyon trespass. The ride to our drop in spot was about 5 miles up Rampart Range Rd right under the shooting range. Yeah, there's a freakin' open shooting range just off the side of the road that is pretty unregulated. People just show up and shoot their guns at anything in sight. Crazy, I know. I guess that's why the area of this trailhead is closed but there were no gun slingers this afternoon so we rode on, brother.

Portions of the ride reminded me a lot of SO ILL riding. Lots of baby head sized rocks, technical sections, creek crossings and lots of trees in your face. Then the trail dumps you out in an amazing canyon with lots of caves and rock formations and reminds you that you're not in SO ILL anymore. I can't believe I forgot my camera today. After some more downhill on the old Cave of the Winds access road the trail ends at the old Cave of the Winds gate. I guess the access road was moved after a monster storm came through bringing enough water to destroy the road and dump huge boulders on the road.

Tomorrow is Pixie racing at Eric from Ground Up Productions place. Maybe I'll let ya'll in on what Pixie racing is on the next post. I'm gonna have to go ride that trail again just for some pics. In the meantime you can drool over these:

Long Days

After yesterday's long ride/hike I figured I'd fall right asleep and be energized for taking customers out on some new (to me) singletrack. Wrong. I got about two hours of sleep and then didn't eat anything before or during the ride. I had one beer in Salida after the ride on the Colorado Trail & South Foose's Creek and I was slurring my words. Good thing I didn't have to drive back to the Springs. I passed out on the ride back. So two hours of sleep and and thirteen hour day later you'd figure I'd be asleep by now. Nope. Still up. Again.



I shaved my head when I got home tonight. I must be tired and just not realized it.

My 1st Epic Ride in Colorado

I've officially lived in Colorado Springs for three months now. I have just finished my first "epic" ride since moving here. It wasn't the longest or even the most difficult ride that I have ever done, but the elements and the hike-a-bike sections certainly made it memorable.

From my house I can ride less than a mile up my street to Stratton Open Space and link up to a virtually endless network of singletrack and old rail road grade gravel roads. The road you see on the bottom left side of the pic is Gold Camp Rd. It's an old narrow gauge rail bed that used to run from the Springs up to Cripple Creek carrying gold, supplies and laborers. I've ridden that thing numerous times since working at the Academy. We offer rides that start in Cripple Creek and end in the Springs. Downhill for nearly 32 miles and goes through four tunnels.

Between the multi-use trails and gravel roads I could probably find a way to ride across the state. Hmmm...Don't think I haven't thought about it because it crosses my mind almost daily.

So anyway, my roommate (also a Saluki) have been shuttling up Cheyenne Canyon and riding Captain Jack's trail back down to our house. It's about a seven mile ride which is mostly downhill. This just doesn't cut it for me. I need some lung-busting style climbing in my rides. So we stopped into Old Town Bike Shop today to get some advice on adding mileage to this ride. Mechanic, Ted gave us lots of options so we headed out at about 3pm.....bad idea. Summer poses afternoon thunderstorms in the mountains almost daily.

So begins the epic-ness. We parked at the Gold Camp lot and rode a slightly uphill bit of Gold Camp Rd looking for some singletrack on our right hand side. We found some that was marked and the sign read two miles to where we wanted to go. That was the craziest two mile climb of my life. About twenty percent was ride-able. This really sucked for Joe who is not into climbing at all. I guess that's why he owns a fifty pound Santa Cruz VP Free downhill bike. Ouch!

In the middle of our crazy two mile climb it starts thundering. I keep pushing on, determined to earn some downhill. Then it begins to rain. Keep pushing on. Then it begins to rain harder. Keep on keepin' on. Then Joe and I take cover when the thunder gets real loud and the rain gets real heavy. After about a ten minute break, the rain lightens and the singletrack is ride-able....for me. Then we hit an awesome section of Aspens and it starts to hail, hard. Too far in to turn back, we keep on.

We finally see a trail marker but it has been destroyed by vandals so we have no idea which trail we are about to take. All we care about is that it heads back east. I ride ahead and find out we are on Pipeline Trail, not Buckhorn like we thought. Ah well, we've seen it on the map and know it will come out somewhere close to home. I just hoped it wasn't too far on pavement since I had Sydney (my dog) with me and I didn't want her running in traffic.

Pipeline was mostly downhill which meant it was finally a chance for Joe to ride his bike. This would be the first time he rode his bike since we left the car more than two miles ago. After Pipeline, Joe says the whole hike was totally worth it. Wow, I thought he was gonna be pissed after carrying his heavy freakin' bike up a mountain for a couple miles in the rain and hail.

Pipeline turned into Bear Creek trail which was almost as awesome as Pipeline but more climbing. Then Bear Creek met up with Captain Jack's and we were finally free of the rain. Sydney was dying by this point and we still had about five miles to get home. I had to keep yelling at the mutt to keep up even though her tongue was almost dragging on the ground. I felt bad but I wasn't gonna be able to carry her back.

So we're all home safe after a four hour day on the trail. Takin' some customers mountain biking at Monarch tomorrow so I'll have even more pics and stories. Sweet.

I'm Back!

Things have been really busy around here over the last month. I have been offered a job here at the Academy which will start when my internship ends, I moved to the far south end of town near the mountains, I've ridden some awesome singletrack, raced pixie bikes, just saw the Black Keys & My Morning Jacket at Red Rocks, completed one of the most ridiculous hikes and met some really great people. Needless to say I've got lots to write about and plenty of pics to post up for my peeps.

I'll start with these pics of bears that were in my driveway on Tuesday when I came home from work at 2pm. I have been waiting to see these bears for a while now. They have torn up our garbage a few times and I had all but given up on seeing them in person. Then they show up for a picnic in the middle of the day. It was awesome!

Falcon Trail

Working on a military installation certainly has its perks. Working on a military installation that is also home to a top ranked university is more like being spoiled. The Academy boasts many treasures within its boundaries and the Falcon Trail is like a pot of gold that's just across the street from my building. I was very weary about a trail on a military installation. I figured the majority of the trail would be going straight up and down huge hills. I pictured a bunch of young guys in military uniforms trying to prove their strength to each other by struggling up endless lines of fall-line trail. Apparently I wasn't far off and that is how the trail used to be in many sections. However, within the last two years the Academy hired some dude who travels the world as a professional trail builder to come out and re-route a bunch of the un-rideable sections. I guess that's the kind of thing that happens when you attend a university where people care about their students. My alma mater has the land and opportunity to create some great multi-use trails but there a bunch of idiots running that place. So anyway, as it turns out, this trail is a 13 mile loop of pure excitement mixed with altitude induced pain. Trail users get it all here; baby head sized rocky sections, long gradual climbs up tight switchbacks, smooth twisty downhill sections, forested areas, a creek crossing with the option of a skinny, a couple of pretty technical sections, dirt-mound speed bumps that double as sweet jumps, and sweet views like the ones seen here. I've been riding this trail at least once a week and it has yet to get old. The current map of the trail is outdated since the re-routing of the trail. My boss has asked me to spend a day of work riding the trail and correcting the map. Life is good.

4th of July in Steamboat

I spent most of the morning of the 4th lying in bed, hungover from the "Stars, Stripes & Sequins" themed bicycle pub crawl the night before, considering whether or not I wanted to make the four hour trek up north to Steamboat. I finally had a weekend off from whitewater rafting. At noon I called "B" to confirm it was still o.k. for me and my pup to spend the weekend on his couch. I was on the road by one. Since he's a good buddy from SIU that I used to black out with quite frequently I knew this was gonna be good times. We drank lots of beers, barbecued, biked everywhere, rode some pretty rad trails, saw the Woodbox Gang and played shuffle board with local drunk "Florida Joe" at the Steamboat VFW. Things were good until we came home from the show to a house filled with piles of my dog's steaming turds. Apparently she had gotten into one of B's roommate's protein bars. Word to the wise; dog shit will destroy a carpet. Not cool Sydney, not cool. Other than my dog being a total spazz all weekend and my allergies getting the best of me, it was an awesome time. Then I had to drive home. Holy shit, don't ever travel on I-70 during the weekend, especially a holiday weekend. I spent 4 hours on a fifty mile stretch of road. Un-freakin'-real. So anyway, Steamboat is sick with an endless network of trails that are all accessible from almost every doorstep. I'll be going back in the winter if not sooner. Thanks to B and all his roomies for being so cool and I'm really sorry about the carpet.

Why am I Starting a Blog?

It is hot as hell in my house. I can't sleep. I'm tired of sending e-mails to people explaining how amazing Colorado is so I'll just post some junk up here and you can see for yourself.