110th Thanksgiving Day Race, Cincinnati, Ohio

First of all, just the fact that people were running 110 years ago (in 1908) for “fun” sort of blows my mind. The first version of this race included 18 runners, who raced from the Fort Thomas Gym to the YMCA in downtown Cincinnati. Now the Thanksgiving Day race - the oldest road race of any kind in the Midwest - has become an integral part of the holiday. Though the first versions were 7 miles, these days it’s an even 10K.

My family decided to have Thanksgiving this year in Lexington, so I figured this was a great chance to take part in such an historic event. I like Cincinnati because it’s not trying to be something it’s not. It’s not a huge city. It’s a crusty river town, with old brick buildings and a distinct toughness about it. And that’s kind of what Thanksgiving morning demanded this year. It was 35-degrees at the start line, with a snapping wind and a dampness to the air. Coming from Colorado, where we rarely have any humidity to speak of, this kind of cold really had me shivering.

Generally, the start was chaotic. No one lined up according to their pace time. There were walkers up at the start, and people anxious to get moving, stuck behind the crowds. I knew I wanted to push my pace, so I took to the sidewalk for the first mile. Cincinnati is not a flat town. It’s no San Francisco, but in addition to the multiple bridges that span the river, there’s definitely a bit of elevation gain. (All in, around 300 feet for the 10K course).

The race starts and ends at Paul Brown Stadium. My first mile was just trying to get out of the crowd. A 7:10 pace, and my slowest for the race. Each subsequent mile was between 6:42 and 6:55. My 5K was right around 21:00, so I knew I could pull off a sub-7-minute-pace finish. I felt good and was reminded how nice sea-level is on the lungs. Overall, this is a great race. Not a lot of frills, which I appreciate. Three bridge crossings, rolling hills, a nice tour of some cool murals and cute neighborhoods.

I finished with my fastest 10K in a while: 42:37, an overall 6:53 pace. Third in my age group, and 245 out of 8,600 finishers.

I don’t miss the Midwest cold, damp, dreary days. But it’s fun to return to race every once in a while.

Ode to the Local Track Club

There’s a cinder track 3 blocks from my house and I’ve had a love/hate relationship with it for years. It’s at a small high-school-turned-middle-school, and because there are bigger schools in the area, with more money and more students, this track was never updated to the all-weather synthetic surfaces that make things easier. It gets messy with almost any weather. In the summer weeds sprout up around the edges. Tiny pieces of cinder make their way into your shoes, always. But that sound. Nothing beats the sound of picking it up on cinder. 

After tackling laps and laps of cinder, I decided it was time to join my local track club. I ran in college, DIII, and hadn’t been part of a real running community in years. So I looked into it. Tuesday nights, 6pm. Meet at the track (a big fancy one, not the cinder stand-by). This club was started years ago by the late U.S. Marathon Champion and Colorado Running Hall of Famer Jane Welzel. She wanted to create a fun, family friendly environment that fostered a place in the running world for everyone. The range in age is 15-75, and the range in pace is just as varied. Plenty of burning lungs if you’re after that, plenty of PRs. But also a reminder that running with other people is fun — it makes you better in a way that you can’t achieve alone. 

The club also sponsors a no-nonsense race series from October to April: Tortoise & Hare. With a race each month, the distances grow from 4K to 12K. The slower pace runners start first, and then the faster paces “chase” after them. Your pace from one race determines your pace for the next. So, each race you have a predicted time that you’re trying to beat. The whole atmosphere fosters bettering yourself more than competing with others. After the first two races (a 4K and a 5K), I absolutely love it. No swag, no packet pick-up, no lines. Just arrive on a Sunday morning with your timing chip and wait for your wave to go off. I was pleased with 21:44 for my 5K, and it already has me itching to get back under 21:00.

Cheers to community, to keeping in simple, to getting out there to see what you’ve still got.

Roll Massif: Tour of the Moon

This was my favorite event all year. The Western Slope is insane. And riding through the Colorado National Monument in Grand Junction, Colorado is adequately dubbed “touring the Moon.” The landscape is other-worldly. When I saw this event on the Roll Massif lineup back at the beginning of the summer, I knew I needed to try it. I went into this ride with high hopes, and the reality far exceeded what I imagined. Everything about this place is unbelievable. I tend to like to try different events rather than repeating the same ones, but I’m already ready to sign up for this next year. 

I arrived in Grand Junction around 5pm the night before the ride. It was my first time in the area, and I enjoyed walking around downtown. I’ve read a lot about the history of the place, and it was nice to finally see it. Lots of great options for eating and drinking.

Riders were allowed to begin the ride any time between 7:30 and 8:30am, so obviously I was there at 7:15am. The morning was cool — around 55 — but heading up to 80 with full sun. I opted for a summer kit and was glad I did. The first few miles into the park were brisk, but lovely. The sun against the rocks gave a red-orange glow. Front and rear lights are required to ride in the park, and the reasoning became clear within the first 5 miles. There were several unlit tunnels, the first of which stretched about a quarter mile. Although this ride begins with 17 miles of climbing, it was never too intense. Plus, the scenery almost makes you forget about the exertion. It was tough not to snap pictures of the entire ride. Roll Massif bills their events as “not races,” though there was one 2-mile timed sprint, which was flat and fast. 

Upon exiting the park, riders had the choice to loop back for a 41-mile route, or opt for a tour of Fruita and Loma to make it 64. The additional miles were rolling and fun, but the main event was certainly the National Monument. I only stopped at one of four aid stations, to fill up water. The wind was picking up and I didn’t want to extend the day any longer than necessary. The volunteers on the road were numerous and helpful. The course wasn’t overly complicated, but it was great to see so many people directing traffic. 

Back at the finish line and convention center, there were vendors, snacks, and lots of relaxing. I would have preferred more snack options, instead of the sit-down pasta dinner, but I filled up my bottles with ice water and electrolyte mix. After rehydrating, I made my way back to my Airbnb and set out for home. I would have loved to stay another couple of days — and even ride the monument again — but this trip had to be a quick turn around for me. I’ll be back, Grand Junction — you’re magnificent.

Race Report: Boyd Lake Bash -- Sprint Triathlon

If you’re not a professional, getting paid a significant amount of money to do your sport, you need to generally chill out — enjoy yourself. That’s what I felt like telling everyone at the start of this race. Lance Panigutti, godfather of Withoutlimits, wasn’t at this race because he was kicking off the Cyclocross season in Boulder. And in his absence, people got huffy. Lance has a way of calming the crowds. He’s got a sense of humor that sort of puts people in their place. He reminds them that they got up early to have fun. But also, he gives very clear directions. He keeps his cool under pressure and quickly fixes things that go wrong. Like I said, Lance wasn’t at this event.

So, the swim was twice as long as it was supposed to be (1,500 yards instead of 800), in fairly choppy water. Boaters were clearly awake and soaking up one of the last summer weekends of the year. The bike was a little chaotic, a little short, with a lot of turn arounds, and endless jarring seams in the road. And the run was more like 3.5 miles instead of a 5K. All said, the water temperature was amazing (probably 74-degrees) with no need for a wetsuit. The bike course was fun and different (aka not a loop around Boulder Rez). And the run was a nice mixture of gravel and pavement, over bridges and next to the lake. Who can really complain?!

The finish featured kombucha and other recovery beverages, along with a pancake breakfast and fruit. Runner’s Roost Fort Collins was on hand, selling discounted shoes and sunglasses. There was a beer garden, people giving massage, and on-the-spot printable results. I did miss having the traditional Withoutlimits slip-and-slide finish, but it probably would have been a lot with so many races going on.

Some people were put off that transition didn’t reopen until 10:30am (well after most had finished their race), but it gave the chance to relax, refuel, and enjoy the morning. My husband and I biked the 5 miles to and from the lake, and would certainly do this one again as it’s practically in our backyard. Keep your cool, Loveland — it’s just a race.

Race Report: SBT GRVL -- Black Course (140 miles)

Check out my race report for Hello Blue CBD!

Steamboat Springs, Colorado smells amazing. Maybe not the hot sulphur springs themselves, but the hills surrounding the area are packed with sage and fields are dotted with fresh bales of sweet hay. Horses graze in the breeze. Steamboat is a ski town, but its roots are in ranching. 

On Sunday, August 18th, I lined up with the 1,500 inaugural cyclists of SBT GRVL — a new gravel race in Steamboat, featuring a 37-mile “green” course, a 100-mile “blue” course, and a 140-mile “black” course. I’m not a black-diamond skier, but I opted for the toughest course this time because, why work toward something you know you can do? Even after quite a bit of training, Sunday morning at 6am, I still wasn’t sure I could do this. 

I’m the kind of person who has to practice something over and over. I’ve always envied folks who show up at a marathon having never run longer than 10 miles, and pull it off out of sheer willpower. I consider myself fairly head-strong, but I cannot pull impressive physical feats out of thin air. I started doing 100+ mile rides a solid 7-months in advance of this race. 

After my last long training ride through Rocky Mountain National Park — 103 miles with about as much elevation gain as the race itself — I told my husband, “No part of me was interested in going 37 more miles.” He said, “then don’t.” And that changed my perspective. This was supposed to be fun — a privilege. A week out, race organizers sent out an email letting black-course riders know that if they reached mile 85 and weren’t having the time of their lives, they could make the turn and call it a day and join the folks riding 100-miles. So that was my goal: get to mile 85 and make the call. 

AirBnb in Oak Creek

Race morning was crisp and clear — 47-degrees and perfect — the long-course began right at 6:30am. I dressed for where the day was headed: 85-degrees and full sun. I wore thin gloves for the first 25-miles, but was otherwise ready for the heat. And the heat came. 

By 11am hydration was the name of the game. With aid stations every 20-miles, and volunteers pouring everything from ice water to Gu Roctane to cold Coke, we were absolutely spoiled. There were 3 KOM/QOM timed hill-climbs featuring popsicle hand-ups and cheering squads. There were mechanics, porta-potties, and shade tents galore. 

It turns out, by mile-85, I was having the time of my life. I planned my nutrition right, drank plenty of water, and was ready to keep going. And maybe I was heat-delirious, or just happy that I was feeling so good, but the second-half seemed even better than the first. The loop around Oak Creek that started at mile 93, took riders up perfectly packed dirt roads. Views of ranches, the creek, impossibly green hillsides, and mountains in the distance, were just serene. The descent from mile 105 to 109 was probably my favorite section of the entire race. 

I’ve done a few century-ride events and something I’ve always noticed is that feeling of solitude. I train almost entirely alone, so I’m no stranger to long, lonely slogs, but I don’t love that feeling in a race. SBT GRVL never felt that way. This race felt like just around each bend there was someone encouraging racers. I can’t say enough about the aid stations. The sponsors were awesome, the volunteers were awesome, the food/drink selection was awesome. 

Two months before the race I made the life-changing decision to upgrade my gravel bike to a Moots Routt RSL. It was like picking out a diamond, and I would much rather have a diamond I can ride than one I can wear. I ran Zipp 202 wheels and Donnelly X’Plor MSO 700 x 36 tubeless tires. I probably rode 800-miles on my new setup before the race, but in the 140-miles around Steamboat is where I felt like I truly got to know my bike. There’s nothing like a day-long ride up and down more than 9,000 feet of elevation, to make you super comfortable on dirt and gravel. I can finally say, gravel downhills in the drops is where it’s at. 

No matter how fabulous a bike is, after 9.5 hours in the saddle on a hot day and I was ready for that finish line. We were met with cold soaked towels and race-specific trucker hats. After a much needed shower, I was thrilled to sit down to some street tacos and a cold drink that didn’t involve electrolyte powder. As far as I’m concerned, SBT GRVL can rightfully claim their tagline: the greatest gravel roads on earth. 

Race Report: Broadmoor Pikes Peak Hill Climb

Another perfect day on Pikes Peak! The climb to 14,115 feet (with a gain of 4,800) began right at 6:15 for the fondo riders. Last year I was surprised how few people — especially women — did the fondo. As with all things in Colorado, even it is stacked with competitive cyclists. This year it did seem like the number of women at least doubled.

After the first mile or so, I found myself leading the pack. I assumed it wouldn’t last, but it actually did for about 9 of the 12 miles. Eventually I got passed by two women, and managed to pass one of them back in the last half mile. I took 2nd place in the fondo, despite having an almost identical time to last year’s ride.

This event is so beautiful. I love starting just as the sun is coming up. I didn’t put my sunglasses on until around 8 miles up. The winds were calm and the views were unending. I like that the fondo riders start first and the pros start last. Even at a steady clip (my average mph was 9.5), many of the elites flew by toward the end.

The half-mile downhill section at 8.8 miles is always a relief, but the last 5K is so tough. This was only my second time climbing Pikes Peak, and I had forgotten just how brutal the last section is. The average pitch is something like 10%, and altitude makes it feel even more intense.

I also love being done with this ride by 9am. The descent is intimidating, with so many switchbacks, but this year it didn’t seem nearly as cold. Being able to meet a drop-bag at the top is a definite perk. Winning a $50 gift card for being second on the podium is also great. We promptly went out to breakfast and then spent the winnings at Criterium in Colorado Springs.

See you next year, lung-busting climb!

Carter Lake Crossing ("Race" Report)

Point-to-point swims are such a treat. No turns, easier sighting: just keep the shore on one side and the sun on the other. This was my longest open water swim to date. I’ve done a few 2.3-mile swims, but let me tell you, 3 miles is a lot. And, like all things, there is a distinct culture around long-swim events. Young and old, Northern Colorado has a lot of swimmers who can haul-ass!

The swim was briefly postponed because the bus to shuttle participants from their cars to the other end of the lake, broke down. Instead of launching at 7am, it was more like 7:25am. It was a deep-water start, which I prefer. The last thing that Douglas said before the gun went off was, “I’m sure I’ll lose you so I’ll see you at the finish.” It can get a little scary (for me) to be in the middle of a large body of water “alone,” so I decided to do everything I could to stay on his feet. Generally, he’s a stronger, faster swimmer than me, but I was wearing a wetsuit and he was not. I kept up.

The water was remarkably clear, and Douglas kept a good, steady pace. I actually couldn’t believe how calm Carter was — either people slept in, or the boats kept their distance. Only a few moments of bobbing. By the time we passed the 2nd buoy, I had figured each was placed around 500 yards apart.

Because the bus broke down, we were the last group to reach the start, and thus missed all of the instructions. So, they probably covered this, but when we reached the end of the lake, I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to circle the last buoy or go straight in. Douglas opted to go straight in, and I circled the final buoy. I think he was right and I was wrong. In any event, we still finished within about 30 seconds of each other, and he had no idea that I was on his feet for the entire swim.

We kept a pace of just under 2:00/100, which isn’t fast, but we weren’t out to prove anything. Great day, great conditions, great swim. The post-swim snacks were less than impressive — a bowl of Oreos and some Nuun hydration. We were also surprised that the t-shirts weren’t included in the price of the event. Still, an all-around fun morning.

2019 Rapha Women’s Prestige: Boulder, Colorado

2019 Rapha Women’s Prestige: Boulder, Colorado

The rules are simple: start as a team, pass through all checkpoints together, finish as a team.

On a steamy July day in Boulder, Colorado, I set out with Leslie Ethridge, Sara Liebert, and Lizzie Newsom on a quest: have fun, ride hard, look good. 

Ad·​ven·​ture

: an undertaking usually involving danger and unknown risks 

Over the course of 81 miles — half gravel, half pavement — crossing such iconic climbs as SuperJames, Brainard Lake, Peak to Peak Highway, and Chapman Off-Road, 8 teams of 4 women accumulated 8,000 feet of elevation gain, all at Colorado altitude. 

During the more than 6-hours of riding, we cycled through all kinds of emotions, but most often were laughing and cheering each other on. At one point, despite 3 of us living in the area, our team realized we were down a road that none of us had been on before. Unknown risks really are best tackled together. 

Team·​work 

: work done by several associates with each doing a part but all subordinating personal prominence to the efficiency of the whole

Heat, wind, rain, slick descents. And tunes. Leslie mounted a portable speaker to the front of her bars, so our day could be soundtracked by Lizzo and Katy Perry. In other words, perfection on wheels. 

When we set out, most of us had never met. When we finished, we were truly a team. We focused on strengths instead of weaknesses, and pulled each other through numerous tough climbs. And it turns out, with a positive attitude, enough Nuun hydration, and good music, you set PRs without noticing. You find yourself at 80 miles before you’d planned. You win.    

Re·sil·ience

: the capability of a strained body to recover its size and shape after deformation caused especially by compressive stress

The first half of the course involved most of the heavy climbing — up to Brainard Lake at 10,300 feet. There was a refueling station that involved popsicles, cold towels, mini Cokes, and pickles. It’s remarkable how crushed one can feel, and then how quickly things can turn around. Five minutes off the bike with words of encouragement and a little sugar / salt fix, and onward with smiles — glad to be coasting down to a mere mile-high. 

At the beginning of the day, teams departed just a few minutes apart, so we crossed paths several times throughout the course. After an intimidating 3-mile descent in the rain toward the end of the day, 3 teams regrouped at the bottom. Someone said, “For a minute there it was like the whole world was just women cyclists.” And it was true: the day was made even more powerful because it was all women. Organized and cheered on by the legendary Meredith Miller, photographed by Natalie Starr, the whole experience was a mantra of, “we can do anything.” And we did.

The day ended on blankets at a park back in Boulder. Cold beverages, gigantic burritos, sweet watermelon. And as often happens when recounting epic experiences on the bike, the pain quickly fades and strength stands out. I’d gladly get back on the bike with these women — eye of the tiger, fighters, all of us.    

Adventure over workout, every time

Trail Ridge Road — Before it’s opened for cars

After an incredibly rainy and snowy spring — including several late-May storms — we’ve finally made it to summer, and even had a few of those TOO hot days. (I consider anything above 80-degrees too hot). The entire state is anywhere from 200-700% saturated, and some of the passes have just barely opened to car traffic. One of my favorite things to do is bike up high and see the huge walls of snow. I went a few miles past Rainbow Curve on Trail Ridge Road at the end of May, and it was other-worldly.

We also recently made the trek down to Watershed Ranch, and I biked Independence Pass on the first full day that it was open to Aspen. It’s one of the most beautiful and most fun passes to ride. Mostly a gradual climb for 17 miles, with a slightly steeper final push. The views are just nonstop amazing. This year, because of the tremendous amount of snow, there were several sections of avalanche damage. It makes the power of the snow really clear. Entire sections of forest turned to matchsticks.

Watershed Ranch

One thing I’ve continued to notice about myself — especially when friends and people I follow on Strava and elsewhere post about zones and numbers — is that I don’t care about working out at all. I’ve always thought trainers and treadmills were ridiculous. I’ll bike in 17-degrees and run below zero. I’ll get up at 4am to beat the heat. Because I care a lot about adventure. I want to climb the highest peak. I want to go a little farther and maybe even sometimes a little faster. But damn. I do not care about monitoring my heart rate.

Independence Pass — First day open for the season

Yesterday I took the new Moots (such an insanely amazing bike) up Old Fall River Road, and down Trail Ridge. I didn’t see a single other person on the road, and thought most of the time about what I would do if I came upon a bear. I sang to myself a lot.

I’ve got some events coming up that I’ve been “training” for, but I think I’m finally ready to admit that I’m more a wake-up-early, grab-a-Clif-bar-and-go kind of person. I’d much rather be the first one at a trailhead, and discover some stunning view, than tow the start line at any race. I like to push myself, but generally, I’d rather do something impressive alone than with a number pinned on my chest. A mountain sunrise always beats a t-shirt and a participant medal.

Old Fall River Road — before cars are allowed on for the season

Get up high, is what I’m saying. Find the snow and the views and the adventure. Maybe think more about sticking your feet in the cold creek at the end of a tough hike, than about those zones on your device.

200K on a Friday

Since I’ve lived in Colorado, I’ve done a handful of 100-mile rides. Each time I take on triple-digits, I feel like I do it a little better. I start at the right time, I wear the right layers, I eat the right food. So, of course, it was time to up the game. In August I’ll be riding the 140-mile version fo the Steamboat Gravel race, and I’ve been telling myself that I should do a few 200K+ training rides. But really, it’s just a great excuse to take advantage of phenomenal spring weather.

I took the day off work yesterday and enjoyed mostly empty Colorado roads. I started around 7:15am at 40-degrees with light tights, arm-warmers, a vest, and a light jacket. After a couple of loops around the local lakes, I decided that I could do the remaining 80 miles with a less clothing. I stopped at home for a quick wardrobe change, and was back out with less than 5 minutes of down time. I love the 30-degree span of Colorado weather, but occasionally it’s tough to dress for.

I headed to Boulder County. The rest of the day was between 58 and 68-degrees. A couple of decent climbs up Lefthand Canyon, and a glorious tailwind home for the last 18 of 124.6 miles. I think what I love the most about weekday riding in Colorado (and early-morning riding any day) is that you can feel totally alone in your feat. I’ve got nothing against the constant waving of weekend warriors, but I love the dreamlike state that you can enter when you’re at it alone.

After a shower and a recovery smoothie, I was already plotting my next 200K ride. More gravel. More climbing. More solitary country roads.

Ready for the warm-up

This is my third winter in Colorado, and it’s been the most brutal, though I still can’t complain. We’ve had plenty of days in the 50s and 60s. But we’ve also had pretty consistent (weekly) snowfall. And a LOT of single-digit mornings. I’ve bike-commuted my 35-mile trip to Boulder MANY times, with tons of layers, hand-warmers, foot-warmers, and eventually completely frozen water bottles. The last time I did the commute was a week ago during the first of several 15-degree “freezing-fog” days. It was maybe the coldest I’ve ever been. Honestly, it broke me a little. I’ve had no urge to do the morning commute since. In fact, I may not ride in the morning until it’s solidly in the 30s or 40s. Something about that frozen moisture got to my bones.

Cycling in the cold is different from any other activity in the cold, in my experience. Just a few days ago I ran 9 miles in 0-degree (but sunny) weather. It felt great! And I can ski for several hours in wind and snow and not really be bothered. (Though, I’m spoiled as a gear-tester for Backpacker Magazine to get some of the best ski jackets that money can buy…for free). Cycling, though, especially with a headwind, is something entirely different. Overall, what I’ve learned this season is, sun changes everything — sun plays by a different set of rules. Anything is possible with full-sun and low wind. And grey skies with headwind will always crush your soul.

But we’ve made it to March. The days are more than 11-hours of light. And the recent dumping of snow means phenomenal spring flowers are in the making. I’ve still got 2 trips to Eldora on my pass, and am looking forward to some of those classic spring bluebird days. Soak it up, Colorado. Only a few more weeks and we’ll barely remember the cold, dark, mind-numbing commutes of the winter. Despite the intensity of the weather, I still can’t imagine not biking year-round. There’s always something to be gained from being outdoors. I’ve (almost) never regretted getting out in it. Anyone can ride a trainer in front of a fan and a TV inside. Climbing slick streets to see the Flatirons and pine trees dusted with snow — that’s something special, every time.

Do it: Get Thirsty

I always love the new year because it’s new. We get to look back at what we’ve accomplished and set new goals. We get to start redefining / evolving who we are. We get to hatch plans and make dares. I love to think about what I’m going to take on. I love to get a little scared about challenges, and then go all-in. Last year I swam/biked/ran/hiked (but mostly biked) over 8,000 miles with more than 600,000 feet of gain. Which is a lot. But this year, more.

While I love the triathlon, and will definitely compete in 2 or 3 local races, I’m most looking forward to challenging myself with some new events. I’m taking on 141 miles of gravel in Steamboat Springs in August, followed by Rebecca’s Private Idaho just 2 weeks later. This week I did my first century ride of the year, for my birthday. It was a remarkably calm, mild day in Colorado, and the ride was fantastic. I’m aiming for a century ride each month this year.

I’m also looking forward to seeing part of Colorado that I’ve never been to with Roll Massif in September. This whole series looks amazing. I kind of wish I could do them all. (Watch the videos and just try not to throw them all of your money).

In my opinion, one of the best ways to make goals is to think about what you liked about the year that’s ending, and what you want to work on to make the next one even better. In one of my final rides of 2018, we were in New Mexico, and I climbed Sandia Crest just outside of Albuquerque. It was an absolutely perfect day: bluebird, full sun, right around 50-degrees. The road was awesome, with constant switchbacks for 18 miles, and 4,500 feet of gain. The views from the top were unending. When I got back to our Airbnb, something went wrong with my Garmin, and I lost all the data from the ride. It certainly didn’t take away from the experience, but I was more than a little bummed to not get the payoff of reveling in the numbers via Strava. And that embarrassed me.

So this year, I’m not off my devices, but I’m a little less attached to clocking every step. This year it’s not about data and statistics: it’s about doing epic shit just for the views from the top. I don’t think looking at data is a bad thing, but adventure is the name of my game, and I don’t ever want to forget that.

I just saw Free Solo (PLEASE GO SEE IT IMMEDIATELY). One of my favorite quotes from Alex Honnold is, “Nobody achieves anything great in the world by being happy and cozy.” I’m all for getting happy, or as Honnold says, “delighted,” but I also want to get uncomfortable this year. A lot. I want to push it. I want to see sunrise and sunset as often as possible. I want to feel at the end like I can’t go any farther. I want to be just absolutely thirsty.

Onward.

Zipp 202 NSW Wheels (on gravel bike)

When I wrote for the local newspaper in Indianapolis, I covered cultural events, music reviews, and all things cycling. I was writing about cyclocross before it was the equivalent in popularity to the weekly suburban 5K. I dabbled in new bike infrastructure projects, and how the community reacted to them. But the coolest thing I did, was visiting the Zipp factory to sit in on NUVO/Bissell team meetings. Upon entry I had to surrender my phone and agree to not write or speak of any technology witnessed. When the team got new equipment, it was like every kid on Christmas morning. Zipp was the best: the top of the line.

This October I took a job as Content Manager at People For Bikes. I don’t like the term “dream-job,” but this one is, for me. With the job, I’ve been told, comes permission (and help) getting the best bike equipment available. I’ve known a lot of people throughout my life who have spent a lot of money on things they don’t end up using. As a kid I always thought it would be so cool to have a pool in our backyard. We moved around a lot, and a few times my parents considered buying houses with pools. My mother would always say, “You think you’ll swim every day, but you won’t.” And I always thought, “No, I actually would.” I think I’ve maintained that state of mind. If I invest in something, I will use the hell out of it. So I ordered Zipp wheels. Next year, I’ll be riding a lot. Needless to say, I’ll be using the Zipp 202 NSWs on my gravel bike.

After 4 or 5 rides, including some sand, a lot of gravel, dirt, snow, and steep roads, I’m super pleased with the wheels. Five miles in and I wasn’t convinced that they were sensationally different from any other carbon wheels I’ve ever been on, but when I was climbing dirt, it was insane. They stick to the ground and offer such light stability. I’m running tubeless, and even on pavement they feel great. I’ve also ridden them in some pretty serious wind, and unlike most carbon wheels, they aren’t terrifying. It’s like they defuse the wind. I can’t wait to see what these bad boys can really do. One thing is for sure, I will get my money’s worth.

Go Outside: Do Epic Shit

sunrise bike commute

I’ve never fully understood Daylight Savings. In theory, I guess I understand wanting to best use energy/light for working purposes, but why don’t we adjust the work day instead of the clock? Like most people, I enjoy having lighter mornings, but find it wildly depressing to have it completely dark at 5pm. And we still have over a month before days start getting longer again. Regardless, I’ve been trying to commute to work (35 miles) by bike as much as possible. For a while I was doing one day a week commuting both to and from work, which made for a 72-mile, 12-hour day, but man…seeing the sunrise and sunset was pretty great.

after work sunset rides

Now that we’ve changed the clocks, and we’re setting into winter, I likely won’t commute home until the spring. I don’t like being out at dusk when the air drops drastically with the loss of the sun. But I hope to still bike to work when we get above-20-degree mornings. And I’ll sneak in some quick after-work rides as often as possible. At People For Bikes, we’ve got a standing Thursday (and sometimes Friday) group lunch ride.

My other method of battling seasonal depression is swimming at a year-round outdoor pool. After swimming all summer/fall outdoors, the prospect of moving indoors seems awful. Luckily, Boulder has a great little old-school gym, with die-hard swimmers who love cold air matched with the heated water. I’ve done a few really cold/snowy swims, and it’s like being a kid. Plus you get to dash to the hot tub immediately after your set.

I’m still contemplating different ski-ticket packages, and setting plans in motion for some trips to the mountains to snowshoe/fat-bike/winter adventure. One thing I’ve come to love about Colorado is, you’ve got to embrace what the day gives you, because tomorrow will almost definitely be totally different.

Sunshine Canyon--Gold Hill--Jamestown--Boulder

Earlier this year I talked about Gold Hill, and how I needed to try biking all 4 roads that ended in this tiny mountain town. I recently crossed another one off the list.

Fall is really settling in to Boulder County, and this week we’ve seen temperatures dipping into the 40s over night and in the morning. I love this weather. Starting in the 40s and ending in the 70s is perfect, in my opinion.

I set out for Gold Hill with a goal to continue on through town all the way to Highway 72 (this isn’t an actual highway, just a larger/paved road at the end of a lot of tiny gravel/dirt roads). I wore a medium-weight long-sleeved jersey and medium-weight gloves, but short bibs. It was 45 when I started at 7:30am, but I knew that if I did the entire ride, I’d get hot if I layered too much. I was really never cold: the sun beamed for the entire ride.

After reaching Gold Hill (which alone is a decently tough HC climb from Boulder), the road narrows slightly and continues to climb. I wasn’t sure exactly how far it was to reach 72, but I figured around 5 miles…It was more like 7.5. Sometimes I like not knowing, and sometimes not knowing is torture.

After 5,500+ feet of climbing (to around 10,000 feet) I took 72 past Ward and descended back to Boulder via Jamestown. They recently finished paving most of Overland Road, and it is like silk (especially after 17 miles of gravel!) My final climb was Olde Stage, which looks like a speed bump on the Strava report after doing Gold Hill!

Cheers to more epic fall rides!

Do It: Pine Creek Camping

Growing up in the Midwest, I thought I had a pretty good appreciation for fall, and particularly fall foliage. And then I moved to Colorado. There’s nothing like a grove of aspens alight with yellow, not to mention an entire mountainside of color. The drive from Denver to Buena Vista via 285 is better than a fireworks show. At Kenosha Pass cars lined the road as people stopped to snap photos.

We departed Watershed Ranch just before 5pm. Our first leg involved a Jeep trip about 3 miles up an old mining road. From there we hiked 2 miles up, to where Pine Creek meets the Colorado Trail. We arrived right around sunset, built a fire, set up camp, prepared dinner, and gazed at the stars. This was baby Henry’s first camping experience, at 8-months old (Henry’s parents own Watershed Ranch).

Our campsite was at 10,000 feet, and temperatures probably dipped to the upper 30’s by early morning. I made myself stay in my tent until a little after 6am, and then got up to watch sunrise. This alone was worth the trip. I hiked in a mile or so, to enjoy the light. Two moose walked through the meadow just in front of me.

After oatmeal and baby prep, we departed camp around 9am. We hiked the Pine Creek Trail to a small falls, snacked and relaxed before retracing our steps back to camp. We did 8.2 miles all-in, and topped out around 11,300 feet.

After breaking camp and packing up, we hiked the remaining 2 miles to the Jeep and were back at the ranch around 3pm. Perfect weather, peak fall color, and good company = pretty great backpacking weekend. Until next time, Collegiate Peaks!

Race/Fondo Report: Buffalo Bicycle Classic--Epic to Estes

About a month ago I was feeling like I should have signed up for one more triathlon this season. Last year I had the Harvest Moon Long-Course, but this year I didn't really want to do another Boulder Reservoir race. I searched for cycling events instead, and found the Buffalo Classic. In its 16th year, 100% of the money from this ride funds Colorado student scholarships at the University of Colorado. There are a LOT of choices for this event, which allows almost anyone to participate. I decided to go for the toughest option: 100 miles with 8,000 feet of climb. Called the "Epic to Estes," it is aptly named. 

Only the first 18-miles of the ride (up Boulder Canyon to Nederland) are considered a race, though I tried to ride pretty hard for the whole thing. I came away with 12th-place female and 4th in my age group. This was my first time riding up the canyon and it was a huge perk to have the road closed to traffic for that initial climb. 

Overall, this race is really well organized. The start was right around 7am as planned (60-degrees to start the day off), and the aid stations throughout were amazing. I stopped at the snack area in Estes and was surprised to find fresh fruit, PB&J, and tons of Honey Stinger and Skratch products. I made a couple other quick stops in Lyons and at Diagonal Highway, just to fill up water. By the time I got to the last ten miles (around 1pm) it was probably around 85-degrees. 

I was also really impressed with the signage: there are directional signs for the riders, but also TONS of signs up for vehicle traffic, to make them aware of the cyclists. They obviously can't close 100-miles of roadway, but the signage definitely made me feel safer. 

Awesome day, great weather, and amazing views of early fall foliage. I will definitely do this event again. 

Backroads & Bikeways: Loveland to Denver

My brother and his wife recently moved from Brooklyn, NY to Denver, CO. They invited us down for a cookout and swim (their new apartment has a nice little pool). I figured this would be a good opportunity to see what it was like to bike from Loveland to Denver. The short version is: 50 miles of fun, 7 miles of not the best roads for biking. But! I'm determined to learn the city trail system better. 

I started at 6:30am in order to beat the Sunday cycling crowd and the car traffic, and because I love starting at sunrise in the cool starting-to-feel-like-autumn air. The first 20 miles were familiar and easy. Then I went through Niwot, Lafayette, Louisville, and Broomfield, all on low-traffic, country roads. There were several hot-air balloons trailing me for about an hour. 

Next I got on the I-36 Bikeway, which goes from Boulder to Denver, and is generally amazing. Every mile or so there's a self-service bike station, with tools and air. I continue to be impressed with Colorado's bikeways, and how well used they are. Lots of people out, all ages and abilities. 

The trail ends (as far as I could tell) around Westminster, and you can jump on another trail: Little Dry Creek, which is a little strange. Like being on an irrigation trail in LA. Definitely not as nice as the 36 Bikeway, but still away from cars. The last few miles were a little shady: from Dry Creek to downtown via Pecos Street. Nothing went wrong, and I'm obviously spoiled by never having to bike in traffic, but I'd still like to find a better way to downtown. 

Overall, a fun ride, and one I'll look to improve on. Anyone who hasn't tried the 36-Bikeway: get on it!

Do it: Old Fall River Road

Old Fall River Road has been on my list of rides since I got a gravel bike, and it did not disappoint. Built in 1920, Old Fall River was the first road through Rocky Mountain National Park. Very little has been updated to this road, which makes it extra special. Mostly dirt/gravel, there are no guard rails, and very little signage. The road is one-way...straight up, with 16 switchbacks, and not much room, even to pass a bike. At times the grade is up to 16%, though most of the time it's more like 7%. The last push is the toughest, as it climbs to nearly 12,000 feet. 

I parked at the Fall River Visitors Center on 34 just before the park entrance. I clipped in at just before 8am on a Friday. There was no line at the gate, and I was probably only passed by 6 cars for the 11-mile dirt climb. The sky was blue, the wind was calm, and the pines smelled amazing. The road passes back and forth over Fall River, and you can always hear the water and a few small falls as background music. I only saw small critters: beaver and chipmunks, and could hear the pikas chirping. 

Once I got to the Alpine Center, the wind turned up. The climb to Rock Cut (at 12,090 feet) on Trail Ridge was a little scary: gusts were pretty significant. But after I passed Rainbow Curve, the descent was fast and fun. When I set out for the ride it was 51-degrees. I'd estimate it was probably around 40-degrees at the top, and by the time I was back down to 8,000 feet, it was nice and warm. 

The next time I do this climb I want to leave even earlier: truly have the dirt to myself at sunrise. 

David Byrne: American Utopia Tour at Red Rocks

My first real concert was the Grateful Dead with Sting. I went with my parent and their friends when I was 12. After that, I was hooked. In high school I spent all of my newspaper-delivery and ice-cream-scooping money on concert tickets. When I was in graduate school, I wrote a weekly column for the local newspaper reviewing shows and new albums. (Having a press-pass is totally the way to see a show). Every year of my adult life, I've seen several shows at various venues throughout the country. 

That's all to say, David Byrne at Red Rocks was the best show I've ever seen. David Byrne will give you everything you need. Before Byrne and his band came out, the crew mopped the stage so that everyone could go barefoot. Byrne is 66-years-old, and he's got moves. The entire set was theatrical: like a musical of David Byrne's life, played by himself. Everyone is free to move: no instrument is tethered. They are never just standing facing the audience. They are always facing each other, or dancing, or acting out a scene. David Byrne approaches art as though it's alive: not as a thing to just watch. And you can't watch this man, and his group, without dancing, whatever that means for you. If you want a long version of my affinity for David Byrne, I put it in an essay a few years ago. 

As Byrne and the band played, "This Must Be the Place," a gigantic red moon rose behind them. Probably 40% of the setlist consisted of Talking Heads songs. The rest were covers and new music. One of my favorites from the new album is "I Dance Like This," and the live rendition was a highlight of the night. 

Byrne ended the show with "Burning Down the House," and honestly, it doesn't get better than that.