When you’re down

Note to self: anytime I’m feeling a little blue about my situation, take a ride on Upper Gold Camp Road until the pavement gives out and there is only a view for miles to the east and ribbon of asphalt trickling back down the mountain.

The air is moist from yesterday’s downpour and I’m rested from a day of watching rain fall on my parched vegetable garden.  The squash are starting to flower again, what is the suggested annual allowance of zucchini for one person?  Whatever it is, I remember clearly why we hadn’t planted it in Iowa for the past five seasons.  I’m a little frustrated with how things are developing at the university.  Maybe not frustrated, but just missing what I had at Divine Word, camaraderie, challenge, friendship, a shared mission and wonderful students.  I’m thinking about this as I pull on my kit, stretching the legs a bit to get into the Castelli shorts, optimistically sized an XL when a XXL was really needed.  When I get those climber legs…

I take Minnehaha on the west side of town down to Manitou.  There’s construction just below us on Illinois and the rains washed rock, sand and gravel onto the

road in wide swaths.  I remember Karl sliding sideways two weeks ago and holding it up; we didn’t tell mom about that.  Post Labor Day Manitou is almost normal; the rondpoint is free as I buzz through, the cassette clicking and an older tourist, children no longer at home, glances up from the curiosity shop window.  The speed limit is 20 through town and I can easily coast that, so I arrive at the base of 26th, not so warmed up, in fact chilled would be a better word, but a sunny climb beckons and I turn south and face Cheyenne Mountain, erstwhile home of VP Cheney when he was hiding from the bad guys after 9-11.

The road begins with a steep push past Butt Park (I kid you not) and soon the Red Rocks Open Space sprawls into the distance on the right.  The climb is steepest right now and my stiff muscles work to pound out a rh

ythm.  Keep it at 330 watts or so, my threshold, this is a five mile climb and I want to pick it up at the end.  Bear Creek Park passes on my left, a beautiful road drops off steeply in the middle of a switchback.  A quick push and we’re back to five and six percent.  No one passes and I see a clot of people ahead on a pullout.  The NBC television van and some cameras set up facing the cliff face.  I spin by and say good morning.  A bend later and cyclists are coming down.  A tandem, two tandems and then a handcycle, low-slung and hugging the turns.  Each gets a wave and then I’m passing a woman on a handcycle.  A fellow on a road bike is coaching her up the climb and I give her a ‘Looking good!’ and spin past. 

I started the ride down feeling not so good, now a combination of the human spirit displayed by these handcyclists and the self-inflicted pain of the climb have the endorphins and philosophical thoughts flowing and I’m much better now.