Green Eggs and Yak

In a hundred miles the ride can go from the ecstasy of 30mph with a tailwind for twenty miles to a relentless wind layered over an unmoving horizon, a straight, treeless line, thin lipped except for the slight smile of a faux plat a few miles ahead.  How quickly we forget the ecstasy and dwell on the single digit speed and the tight weakness in the legs.

I glance back up, that is one shaggy buffalo.  Wait.  Beefalo?  Holstein colors and long hair.

“Organic Yak Meat” reads the sign a few minutes later.  www.greeneggsandyak.com.  Who knew?

We trundle on.

The forecasts these days on the front range of the Rocky Mountains extend from 70 and sun to 20 and snow.  Weather.com is the cyclist’s friend and Wednesday’s forecast was beautiful, sunny and almost seventy; definitely a time to ride, especially with snow predicted for the weekend.

Yesterday Janet and I climbed Ute Pass to Woodland Park and today my legs were still feeling a tad sore from the effort and reminded me of that as I climbed through the Garden of the Gods.  The sun was out, though, and the tourists were snug in their beds and the road was a glorious ribbon holding my spinning wheels.  Here I was heading out on a long ride along the mountains.  Desert smells brought me back to our time in southern France a few years ago.  Instead of cork oak on the sides of the Alberes, there was Gamble oaks on the sides of Red Mountain and the Colorado foothills. 

In and out of the Garden, then through the north side of Colorado Springs and it’s urban traffic and soon I was knocking on Brady’s door in Gleneagle, across from the Air Force Academy.  We had a tail wind and it pushed us through Monument, Palmer Lake and Perry Lake.  When we crested the Palmer Divide, the road began a gradual downhill to our turn east on Wolfensberger Road.  Then we paid.

There is a mesa in front of us, to our left, and the road seems intent on climbing it.  The pitch rises to 8, then 10 then 11 percent.  Anything above 6 percent hurts.  Double that and I’m in difficulty.  We climb and climb and the road moves away and then back to the mesa.  This is hurting a bit much and I shift down and back off the effort.  The wattage drops below 300 and let Brady venture out in front of me.  Goals for this fine fall day?  Get out on the bike and turn the pedals for five or six hours.  Snow is going to cancel the Sat morning ride and the rollers are looming large for the weekend.  A long effort now will carry me over until the warm weather returns next week.  I’m building my base now for next season, my first season racing here in Colorado and I want to do it right.

We descend into Castle Rock and scan for a coffee shop.  The flags are nearly stiff and pointing north, so we’ll need something to perk us up for the ride home into the wind.  Daz Bog beckons from a corner and we slip in for a latte and croissant.  Sixty miles in and just forty five back to Manitou.  Gilbert Street and then Lake Gulch road take us towards home and we again are going up, up the Palmer Divide. 

Time to pay for the ecstasy and restore the balance.