A Ride a Day

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Rain Ride

Rain constantly threatens these days. I find a window of sunshine. Up, up, up. Shoulda taken the bus. No, I don’t mean that. I’ll show those tourists how to climb. Ha, but what am I? Descending the clouds come in. Halfway down, drip drip drop little July shower. Muddy mess. I can’t see the view but hardly care for I am riding in a brilliant rainstorm. The drops soak my skin, my bike, pepper me with mud. I can’t help but laugh and smile a shit-eating grin Because I’m pretty sure horses frequent this trail with their little apples mixed into the dirt now flying into my face, gritty between my teeth.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Snodgrass Hill

14.5 miles

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Century flowering

See those long pointed leaves, growing in little clumps? That’s right, they’re all over scattered throughout the lupines, locoweeds, larkspur…one of those purple “l” flowers. Now see that one over there with the stem taller than you? With all the little white flowers? That’s the century flower in its last gasps of life. They live for 75-100 years before flowering in full glory. Then they die. That’s right, see all those tall brown sticks, cracked and bent? That’s last year’s crop, this glorious specimen’s future.

After a long gasping climb, it’s easy to feel as if these beautiful blooming flowers are just for me. The chemicals coursing through my body enhance the beauty of the vista and these singular blooms. I know they bloom careless to my life, my climb, my concerns. But maybe that’s why they make me feel special. They are for me in their negligence of me. It’s a gasping beauty that doesn’t give a damn. It doesn’t care about my straining muscles, my beating heart. My brake-clutching descent and mud-slipping crash will not change anything out here, save wearing away the soil my tires and my bleeding leg pick up and take home.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Crested Butte downtown to Strand Hill to Strand Hill Bonus and back to town.

15 miles?

With Chuck R.

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First Blush

Hesitancy, a stumble at the start. Did they notice? Of course they did. No recovering from that one. Smile and act casual, as if I meant to stop at that rock. Be cool. That’s right. Oh, the curves…they are so lovely. I follow their gentle curves and smile. My confidence grows. I am struck by their beauty. Their patches of purple whose tips I brush fill me with a rush of adrenaline. Surely I do not deserve this. I hesitate, and falter. Slow and stumble. One of us is going to get hurt and I doubt it will be you, with your welcoming promiscuous ways. You’ve seen much better than me, no doubt. And I can’t help blushing and falling for your charms. It hurts, but no blood. I can learn a thing or two from you. I will learn your contours better in the next few weeks, so close and alluring. Classic. You give a girl as single-track mind.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

First ride in Crested Butte, up Bud’s Trail, down Gothic Road to Lower Loop and back into town on the single-track connector.

7 miles or so?

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A ride a day

My current project is to post something that captures the spirit of my daily mountain bike ride during my stay in Crested Butte. I am here for the month of July in order to learn how and why mountain biking began in this community and grew into a ‘mecca’ for mountain biking aficionados. Crested Butte is the disputed birthplace of mountain biking, Marin being the other top contender for that title.

Visit my Ride a Day page to read more!