January 10, 2021 by Amber Minkoff Dennis

The Silver Lining

I remember the conversation vividly. I was walking through the sunshine with my daughter. She was telling me that she would graduate in the year 2020. She was young, perhaps in second or third grade, making her eight, maybe nine years old. Our conversation would have occurred in 2010 or 2011. As we walked along we talked with excitement about what a cool sounding year it was… 2020. That conversation is the first time I can recall having any thoughts about 2020; how dramatically different the reality of 2020 turned out to be compared to what we both envisioned that sunny afternoon. Like so many others have done, I could list all the negative things that 2020 delivered, but I don’t want to give it any more energy than it has already taken. Instead, I want to focus on the positive things that 2020 delivered.

Family time – Sierra came home in March for what we thought would be a week’s spring break. She ended up staying until August when she departed for her Freshman year of college. That six month window of time gave us back some of the family time that we lost when she moved away in 2017 to pursue her hockey dreams. I’ll be forever grateful for it.

High School Graduation – While the ceremony itself was anti-climatic after being postponed more than once, the fact that she walked across a stage with with Salutatorian cords made Motoman and I so proud. Maintaining high grades during a pandemic wasn’t easy.

Construction – With nothing better to do during the lockdown in March and April, we turned to home improvement projects. We now have an additional bedroom in our house, which freed up space for a dedicated office in our small house. We’re still arm-wrestling to see who gets the office most days.

Cooking – No one will ever call me a great cook; but no one in my family went hungry. I got to try lots of new recipes. In fact, I found a very similar recipe for one of my favorite dishes available at an over-priced restaurant in Applewood.

Saddle Time – While I didn’t reach my cycling distance goal for the year, I did get some fun riding in at places like Crested Butte. I also was able to spend more time exploring the hiking trails within steps of my front door. I spent more time on the motorcycle riding tracks and trails with my family. As a result of all this riding and skills development, I’m now confident enough to try riding an even bigger, more powerful dirt bike.

Job Transition – I’m so excited to have accepted a position last fall with a company in an industry I’m passionate about. Working has never felt less like work!

For me, one of the most humbling lessons of 2020 was that I don’t have as much control as I thought I did. I can’t replace the people and experiences my family lost this year, but I can control my perspective on the losses. Usually this is the time of year when I reflect on the bike races I competed in the prior year and set goals for the future. This year, I don’t have any races to reflect on, which feels different, but ok. For 2021 I want to focus more on activities that a future version of myself will be grateful for. This includes things like more yoga, better eating, catching air on the motorcycle, and being open to new activities. Sometimes just a slight shift in perspective is all it takes to find the silver lining.

August 4, 2018 by Amber Minkoff Dennis

20th Wedding Anniversary Adventure Ride

As our 20th wedding anniversary approached, Motoman and I talked about all the different options we had to commemorate our special day. We could throw a big party. We could spend a quiet weekend somewhere special. We could include family. Ultimately, we decided to mark the occasion with a motorcycle ride. We were already planning to drive to Kimberley, British Columbia in late June to pick up our daughter from school. We decided to add on to that trip by bringing our motorcycles with us and taking a 4-5 day tour around Alberta and British Columbia, sticking primarily to gravel and logging roads. We’d spend the night wherever we ended up on any given day.

Day 1 – Kimberley, BC > Banff, Alberta

We departed from Kimberley mid-morning under overcast skies. The planned route was to take logging and Canadian Forest Service roads northeast from Kimberley to Banff. However, within the first two hours, we encountered our first road block. The road we planned to take was blocked and closed for “eco-system regrowth”. This meant a detour to our route, and that more of the day would be spent riding on paved roads rather than dirt. In the process of finding our way through the forest, we ended up on top of a mountain. The clouds parted just long enough for us to snap a few pictures. This was one of the funnest days of riding because we crossed numerous streams and mud puddles, saw bears, deer, and places that many Canadians probably haven’t seen. The route went from Kimberley on Highway 95 to Wasa Lake Provincial Park > Canal Flats > Kootenay National Park > Banff. After dinner in Banff we spent our first night at Two Jack Lakeside Campground. The views did not disappoint.

Day 2 – Banff Area Touring

We packed up our camp and rode to Lake Louise. After taking the obligatory selfies, we hopped back on the motorcycles and went to the Moraine Lake road, which was blocked to traffic. While cars were turned away, we were waived through and had a very traffic free ride to Moraine Lake. Next, we took the Trans-Canadian Highway west to Highway 93 AKA Icefields Parkway. We rode north on Highway 93 to the Columbia Ice Field. By the time we arrived at the Visitor’s Center, the sleet was coming down hard and fast. We had hoped to make it to Jasper and camp overnight, but we both agreed that the weather simply was not cooperating. We turned around and went back to the Banff area in search of a campsite. We got lucky and ended up sharing a site with a young French man making his way across Canada on foot.

The route went from Two Jack Lakeside Campground > Lake Louise > Moraine Lake > Columbia ice field > Lake Louise Campground

Day 3 – Lake Louise, AB > Trout Lake, BC

It was time to start heading West and making our way toward Kimberley. We took the Trans-Canadian Highway from Lake Louise to Revelstoke. Most of the day was spent riding in the rain, so we stopped and warmed up in one of many hot springs along the way. After lunch in Revelstoke, we turned onto a logging road. It wasn’t long before we came upon a small fallen tree. We made it over this first tree and the second fallen tree without any trouble. The third tree was much larger and we paused for a discussion about the obstacle. I learned on this ride when someone asks the question “what’s the worst that could happen?” It’s important to really give that question the thoughtful reflection it deserves. I also learned that Aspen trees are extremely slippery and do not behave at all like the dried up pine logs motorcyclists typically practice riding over. (I hope someday to be allowed to write more about this because it will be a good read!) We decided that 3 downed trees within the first half mile probably meant for a LOT more further down the road. We turned around and headed back to the paved road. Due to the numerous lakes and mountains in British Columbia, ferries are part of the highway
system. As we sat and waited for the ferry, we spoke with the worker on duty. She mentioned a severe wind storm and passed through the area just a couple of days before and had likely blown down the trees we encountered. Eventually they would be cleared, but other roads take priority over the logging roads. It was getting later in the day and she recommended we make our way to Trout Lake for the night. We found a secluded and beautiful campsite on the lake shore for our anniversary.

The route went from Lake Louise > Revelstoke > Shelter Bay > Trout Lake

Day 4 – Trout Lake to Kimberley

Our last day of riding and finally the weather was warming up. We made our way down a fun and winding road along Kootenay Lake and stopped for brunch in Kaslo. After ferrying across the lake in Balfour, we took Gray Creek Road to Kimberley. All in all, we rode approximately 800 miles over four days.

Other Lessons learned:

Motorcycles are allowed to do things cars are not because they are badass, at least according to Motoman. For example, boarding and exiting ferries first (despite the sign that says motorcycles do NOT get special treatment), closer parking (because you can fit in little spaces), taking roads closed to cars, just to name a few.

People are more impressed with a KTM 1290 than a Yahama XT250; I’m not sure why that would be.

Things don’t always go according to plan; be flexible.

Gear used:

Yamaha xt250

Arai Helmet

Olympia jacket with two removable liners

Mountain Hardware monkey fur fleece

Klim gloves, pants, hydration system

Dainese boots

Mom’s silk scarf

Wildlife seen:

Deer

Bears

mountain goats

ticks

Anniversary treats in Kaslo

Trout Lake BC – the perfect place to camp!

May 10, 2016 by Amber Minkoff Dennis

Shifting Gears

Ascending a hill begins with pedaling as long as you can in whatever gear you happen to be in. As turning the pedals becomes more difficult, you shift into an easier gear with the push of a finger or two. Leg muscles and lungs quickly adapt to the change in tension. When you finally get to the easiest gear, you settle into a rhythm and keep pedaling. When you crest the hill, more tension is added with the push of a finger and once again the body adapts in a matter of seconds.

Wouldn’t it be great if our minds could adapt to change as quickly?

Fourteen years ago I became a mother. My first mother’s day can best be described as weird. When my daughter was born, I’d spent over 30 years making Mother’s Day special for my mom. My mom’s birthday just happens to be May 13th. Some years, Mother’s Day and her birthday would fall on the same day. No matter when Mother’s Day was observed, my brothers and

Me, my mom and brothers on my 1st birthday. Angel food is still my favorite!

I attempted to keep the two separate and special.

But there I found myself, at the center of attention on a day that felt like it was about anyone but me. Eventually I shifted gears and settled into the rhythm of enjoying Mother’s Day, just like my mom must have done when it was new to her all those years ago. After she died, I once again found myself in a strange place with Mother’s Day. While I had been a mother for eight years at the time of her death, I’d spent nearly four decades making that day special for her. I guess you could say I failed to shift gears and allow myself to adapt to a new meaning of Mother’s Day. I could no longer look at cards for my mothers-in-law because they all made me cry. The flowers at the store, commercials I saw on TV, and pictures on Facebook only reinforced what I no longer had. If you haven’t lost someone you love, you might not understand what I mean when I say that she is never far from my thoughts. The absence of that loved one leaves a large void in each and every day, but especially on days like Mother’s Day or birthdays.

Motoman and I were talking recently and the subject of Mother’s Day came up. I told him I no longer do Mother’s Day since I don’t have a mother. He looked at me and replied “well, you should since you have a daughter.” In that moment, recognized my failure to adapt to the new meaning of Mother’s Day. I realized how selfish and unfair I’d been to my own daughter for the last six years. She’s spent her entire life making Mother’s Day special for me and here I was, refusing to shift gears and adapt to life as it remains.

It’s been a challenging ride, but I think it’s time to find the right gear for the rest of this climb, settle into a rhythm, and keep pedaling.

Spring 2002 – shortly after Sierra was born. 3 generations.

November 25, 2015 by Amber Minkoff Dennis

Keep Left… or Not

My dear friend JQ has been a great riding buddy and friend since I met her four years ago. We normally mountain bike together. I’d hurt my tailbone recently and couldn’t do anything too strenuous, so we decided to take to the road in Bear Creek Lake Park. It was planned to be a slow, chatty ride so we could catch up on all the recent changes in our lives. As we pedaled along the bike path, I couldn’t help but be astonished by the fact that there was an entire paved loop throughout the park that I had never ridden. I typically ride the dirt there on my mountain bike, so this was an exciting discovery for me! I’d always wondered what people were referring to when they talked about riding the loop through Bear Creek clockwise or counter clockwise.

As we climbed up a hill on the southeast side of the park, the path forked and I started to veer to the right. JQ called out to keep left. A bike in the distance caught my eye. It was laying in the dirt beside the path with what appeared to be a sweatshirt or coat beside it. I thought it seemed odd that there was a bike there, without a person nearby. They do tend to go in pairs. I looked left and then right again as JQ repeated to keep left. I didn’t see anyone around the bike and decided to go investigate. As I approached the bike, I realized the clothing on the ground was, in fact, on a person who was laying there, entangled in the bike. I dismounted and approached the man as he lay in the dirt bleeding from his nose and head. He was unconscious but breathing. Beside him was a puddle of blood. I started talking to him to see if he would open his eyes or speak. After a few seconds we decided to call 911 and summon help. I didn’t find any identification on the man and his phone was of no help. We managed to get his name ~ Mark ~ and remove the bike whose handlebars had somehow found their way around his leg. He was in obvious pain and could barely move. As he moved in and out of consciousness, we kept him calm and still as the paramedics made their way up the bike path.

As the ambulance drove away, we observed 10 feet or so of silver scrape marks on the sidewalk that led directly to the puddle of blood. It appeared Mark was descending when something went dreadfully wrong. The few cyclists who had gathered had a brief discussion about the risks of riding alone. Phones that require a touch ID or key code are of absolutely no use to a complete stranger trying to offer help to someone incapacitated. Some of us were wearing our Road ID‘s, others were not. Each of us keenly aware that it could have been any one of us laying there in the dirt.

Have you ever observed how people come into our lives at just the precise moment when we need them? Then, when their job is done, they’re gone. I’ve observed this a number of times in my life and the timing of this phenomenon never ceases to amaze me. It’s sort of like the ebb and flow of the ocean tide. As you walk along a beach, you’ll encounter shells and sand washed in by the waves. Some of the shells will catch your eye, some will not. Some will end up in your pocket to keep and others will disappear back into the water as quickly as they appeared. And like the grains of sand under your feet that make your path of travel easier, some people are simply there to lend a hand when you are unable to help yourself. I’m not sure what compelled me to go right rather than left. I guess on this occasion, I was meant to be the grain of sand. beach

August 12, 2015 by Amber Minkoff Dennis

Bike Riding the Beartooth Pass

The Beartooth Pass is on US Highway 212 between Red Lodge, Montana and Cooke City, Montana. The highway meanders along the borders of Montana and Wyoming high on the plateau of the Beartooth Mountains and eventually leads right into Yellowstone Park. It’s closed in the winter and occasionally on other days throughout the year, given the right weather conditions. The day before I pedaled up the pass on July 30, it was closed due to snow. At its summit, this road is the highest elevation highway in both Montana and Wyoming.

I’ve driven over Beartooth Pass several times on my way to or from Yellowstone Park over the years. The views never disappoint despite the wind and cool temperatures on top of the plateau. When I started this cycling journey four years ago, riding up Beartooth Pass on my bike was always a thought in the back of my mind. I guess you could say it was on my “ride bucket list”. Yes, cyclists have such a thing as I suppose motorcyclists do as well. However, each summer when I returned to Montana, there was always some reason why I couldn’t do the ride: last year, I brought a mountain bike, the year before I was too busy… the list goes on. This year I was feeling overwhelmed with all that is involved with moving from one home to another and felt a sense of urgency about returning to Colorado. However, after seeing the weather forecast for the remaining week of my visit, I decided to stay just long enough to fit in the ascent.

I got up early on the morning of July 30, loaded my bike into the car, and departed Billings for Red Lodge. As I

The sign just outside Red Lodge where I parked nearby and started my ride.

approached the mountains I realized there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I unloaded my bike, suited up, and pedaled away. I had done better research for this ride than my previous ride on Alkali Creek Road and knew that I could expect to pedal for about 25 miles to the summit on a paved road. I could expect the ride to take me approximately 2.5 hours based on the results of other cyclists I had seen on Strava. I also knew that the climb to the summit would be gradual, at about 4% on average.

As I pedaled along, traffic was minimal on this beautiful late July day. I saw many more motorcycles than cars. The switchbacks started at nearly 7 miles into the ride. As I approached the scenic overlook turnout, I passed 5 other cyclists, all of whom pulled off into the overlook parking area. I kept going because I knew it was about halfway to the summit and I don’t like starting and stopping on prolonged climbs; it’s hard to get the legs going again. Besides, there was no need. I had plenty of fluids and food tucked in my pockets.

At about 19.5 miles into the ascent, I came to a place where I had to descend and then climb again to reach the summit. I’m not going to lie, I was cold and considered calling it good and turning around. But then that little voice in my head chimed in with “I didn’t come this far just to turn back now, especially when I can see the summit in the distance.” I got as aero as I dared and

descended as quickly as possible, so as to minimize how much colder I would become before the final climb. My garmin showed about 23 miles at the summit. I took turns with all the motorcyclists taking pictures in front of the summit sign. Then I slipped on my wind jacket for the descent.

What I didn’t realize when I had done my ride research was exactly how much climbing the ride would entail. The total elevation gained was 5,262 feet… just 18 feet shy of a mile, give or take. Hmmm. That’s interesting considering the fact that I now reside in the “mile high city”. A city known for more than just it’s elevation, if ya know what I’m sayin‘.

On the descent, I stopped and took some pictures along the way…Enjoy!

A closer/cropped shot of the bear tooth.

January 14, 2015 by Amber Minkoff Dennis

Finding Peace on Two Wheels

There are 365 days each year, most of which pass us by with little to no fuss. But there are a few days each year that we anticipate ~ be it with excitement or dread. The days I look forward to are primarily happy days: my birthday, my husband’s birthday, our anniversary, June 21st (the longest day of the year), July 4th (who doesn’t like fireworks?), December 21st (because it means the days are getting longer and we’re halfway to June 21st). Someone queue Bon Jovi.

Then there’s my daughter’s birthday on February 9th. It was certainly a life changing day and is one of the happiest days of my life. Next month she’ll be 13; a teenager. January has been my least favorite month for most of my adult life. It’s such a dark, cold month. There aren’t many January days that are good for outdoor riding. Combine that with back to work and school following the holidays and it’s simply dreadful. However, after I had my daughter I found a new way to make the passing of January more tolerable. I went into birthday party planning mode January 2nd. Now that she is getting older, the party planning has dissipated and the January winter doldrums have returned.

In 2010, on February 7th after my daughter’s 8th birthday party, we returned to our home. It was a cold, snowy Sunday afternoon. At that time, we still had a “land line” to our house. The phone rang as soon as we walked through the door. When I realized my husband had picked up a call from my mom and she was inquiring as to whether we had received the birthday gift she had sent, my daughter and I quickly bundled back up into our snow boots, coats, and hats and ran down the street to the mailbox. After retrieving the box from Texas, we ran back home as fast as we could. My mom got to be “with” us on the phone as my daughter tore into the box. It was a joyful conversation. Later that night after the Superbowl, the phone rang again. This time it was my dad calling to say that my mom had collapsed and died just a couple of hours before. February 7th officially became the saddest day of my life.

When I started riding the bike in the fall of 2011, it was one of the best things I did for my mental health. In another blog post I wrote about how I was not a cyclist when I joined my team, but quickly started pedaling my way to becoming one. While I longed for someone to ride with in those winter months before my first race, it was more therapeutic that I was riding alone. I’m not going to lie, there were many tears shed behind those sporty Smith sunglasses. As winter turned to spring and spring to summer, I began to notice the birds chirping as I pedaled along. One day, as I pedaled along a familiar road,

I heard the distinctive song of the meadowlark. My mom always loved that sound and would point it out to anyone nearby whenever she heard it. I started spending more time riding on this road because it was one of only two roads where I heard the meadowlark. Being out on those deserted roads with the sound of the meadowlark made me feel closer to her.

As I gained strength and endurance during that summer of 2012, I began to ride further and further from my home, and further from that road where the meadowlarks sing. But I’m frequently drawn back to that road. Sometimes I hear the meadowlarks calling to me as I go by; sometimes I call out to them. Riding on that road is where I found peace on two wheels.

December 11, 2014 by Amber Minkoff Dennis

Lessons in Encouragement

This post has been percolating in my mind for several weeks. It’s about the affect our words can have on other human beings.

At a recent cyclocross race I was very near another racer whose family speaks a foreign language. On each lap when we passed her family members, I would hear them shouting to her in what could have been Russian or German. Since I don’t speak the language, I was unable to understand what exactly was being said to my competitor. Regardless of which language it was, I didn’t get the sense that what was being shouted at her was entirely encouraging nor supportive. At the finish line, I saw an exchange between this competitor and her family that clearly was not supportive. As her family walked away in what appeared to be disgust, the cyclist sat down in a heap on a curb in the shade by herself to catch her breath. At about that same time, my family approached me and offered hugs, high-fives, and congratulatory words, despite the fact that I finished nowhere near the podium. When I finally quit coughing, I looked around for that competitor because I wanted to congratulate her on a tough race, but she was already gone. I was disappointed that I missed her and I thought of her and what I had seen at the finish line often over the next few days.

At the next race, I arrived at the start line a little early. As I stood there, my competitor from the previous race appeared. Since her family was not around, I immediately approached her and struck up a conversation about the previous race. I told her that I was sorry that I had missed the opportunity to tell her after the previous race what a strong racer she is. As I finished this sentence, I notably saw her stand a bit taller as her chest expanded with pride. She began to radiate confidence as we talked. Not long into our conversation I realized that she was just a child. A younger child than my own, in fact. I wished her good luck on the race as the call ups began.

I once heard a phrase or saying that went something along the lines of: you are responsible for how another person’s words make you feel. I never agreed with the saying because it implies that one person’s words should have zero affect on another person. But clearly from this example, they do. Especially when they come from the people you know and love. I’m grateful that the opportunity presented itself for me to offer kind words to that young competitor.

I challenge you to find one person each day who you can offer kind words of encouragement to, whether it’s a friend or a stranger, a team mate or competitor, a child or an adult, even your partner. Then sit back and watch that little seed of confidence grow into something bigger. Sometimes you’ll get to see it blossom before the conversation is over.

October 8, 2014 by Amber Minkoff Dennis

Cyclocross Race Excitement!

I finally did my first “real” cyclocross race. By “real”, I mean that I raced on a real cyclocross bike. I don’t count the other two races I’ve done because one was on a mountain bike and the other on a cross bike that was much too large for me. The latter race resulted in the lovely sprocket punctures to my calf after a stair run-up. I had a friend who offered me her old cross bike for a couple of races because she had upgraded to a newer model. She’s very close to my size and I was able to use her bike with minimal adjustment. I carefully selected which race I would do. I didn’t want to race in a large field of racers or on an extremely technical course. After all, the bike was new to me and I had only a few days to get used to its nuances. I registered for the Green Mountain Sports CX Race. After registering for the race, I felt something I’d never felt about a race before: excitement!! Typically, my pre-race feelings range from dread to denial to fear.

My excitement level for this race was almost on par with the excitement I have each year in the days leading up to my birthday. All week I looked forward to the race, counting down the days. I was excited that my whole family was coming to cheer for me because most cycling races are just not spectator friendly. Even my dad, who would be passing though town that weekend, would be watching me. He had never heard of cyclocross nor seen the shenanigans that are involved with a cross race.

On race day, the women who had completed other cross races would be called up to the start line. This is great for those receiving the call up because it means you get to be in the front of the pack when the whistle blows. Those who do not get called up are left to line up behind everyone who was called up. The bottom line here is that racers with call ups definitely have an advantage over those who don’t. Despite the fact that I was near the end of the pack, I was happy and excited to be racing on such a beautiful September day. The field was small and I felt confident that I would have a respectable finish barring any major crashes.

Photo credit: Gary Mullins

When the whistle blew, we took off. There was much shuffling for position as we moved through the parking lot and took a sharp right onto a narrow sidewalk. I was cautious as I didn’t want to crash before we even got to the dirt section of the race. The day was very hot for September and I knew that pacing myself in the heat would be critical to a strong finish. I was able to avoid a couple of crashes near me and kept going as fast as I could. Hydration via water bottle hand ups was key. I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize to anyone I may have inadvertently thrown a bottle at… I certainly wasn’t aiming for you. Disposing of a water bottle when you’re sprinting through a parking lot sounds easy until you actually try it!

As we settled into the second lap, I lost sight of the race leaders and hoped that I would eventually be able to catch them. There was a group of about 5 of us clumped together. We played cat and mouse and continued to shuffle our positions for the next two laps. I had a wheel slip out in a corner, which allowed the group to pass me. I didn’t let them get far and eventually caught and re-passed two of the three cyclist, while the the third continued to pull away from me.

Eventually I caught my teammate – the gal who loaned me the bike on which I was racing. You can imagine the mental conundrum this created as I debated whether she’d loan me her bike for another race if I passed her. We eventually came to a steep hill run-up, where I uttered encouraging words as I ran by. This was the last lap and I wasn’t able to chase down anyone else. I was thrilled to finish 11th out of 25 racers, particularly since I’d started in the back of the pack. Best parts of the day:

* Having a bike to race on – thanks to Linda!

* Hearing my family cheer for me.

* Water bottle hand-ups on such a hot day and dusty course.

* Not crashing.

* This awesome picture from Ryan Muncy Photography.

* This awesome video from my honey that makes me look really fast!

Photo credit: Ryan Muncy Photography

July 15, 2014 by Amber Minkoff Dennis

Triple Bypass – A Ride Review

I signed up for a ride called the Triple Bypass back in January. I’d heard about this ride for years; it’s been around for 26 of them! It’s a 120 mile ride over three Colorado mountain passes, with 10,000 feet of elevation gain. And for those who think that distance and elevation gain are simply not enough, there is the Double Triple Bypass option where you turn around and ride back to where you started the next day.

I had plans to pre-ride all the passes, but unfortunately, time got away from me and before I knew it, the ride was here. I went into the ride knowing I was capable of the distance and elevation, but unsure of how long it would take me. The other concern was the stormy weather we’ve been having in Colorado recently. I knew the earlier I started the ride, the better my chances of finishing it.

I departed promptly at 6:00 AM. As I began to pedal my way up Squaw Pass Road, I knew that I could go faster, but I intentionally kept a pace that would be sustainable for the entire ride. The road had recently been repaved and was super smooth with a very nice bike lane. I was surprised at how many cyclists insisted in taking up so much of the roadway. The road was closed to all traffic but law enforcement and Sag vehicles, and apparently the meaning of the words “keep right” and “ride single file” were not clear to some cyclists. One State Trooper actually pulled a cyclist over for riding on the left side of the road in the wrong direction. I’m not sure what the outcome of that meeting was, but the conversation sounded unpleasant as I went by. I stopped at Aid Station #1 (18 miles into the ride) and had a banana and bagel and refilled a half full water bottle. I pulled on my wind jacket before leaving for the descent into Idaho Springs.

The descent into Idaho Springs went smoothly and the route through town was well marked by volunteers and law enforcement. As we headed west, I found myself in a sustained climb for the next 28 miles. When I came to Aid Station #2 (42 miles into the ride), I stopped to eat and refill my bottles. The best snack of the day was had at this aid station: it was a chocolate chip cookie sandwich with peanut butter and banana filling…mmmmm! The weather this far into the ride was still perfect: blue skies and lots of sunshine. I hopped back on the bike and continued to pedal towards Loveland Basin where I knew lunch awaited me.

As I approached the third Aid Station at Loveland Basin Ski Area (56 miles into the ride), I could see it was quite crowded with cars and cyclists. I found a place to park my bike and made my way to the food tents. Here I discovered an extremely long line of hungry cyclists awaiting their turn to grab food. When I finally got my chance at the food tent, I had the BEST ham and cheese sandwich ever, a handful of pretzels, half a banana, and a cookie. The line was moving so slowly that I was able to stand and consume all this food before I had moved 10 feet toward the water table. When I realized that I had already been there for 30 minutes and it would likely take another 30 minutes to fill water bottles, I decided to go with Plan B. Plan B was relying on my one full water bottle to get me to the next aid station where I was hopeful I would find less of a clusterf@ck.

I began to pedal up Loveland Pass, which I can’t say I’ve so much as driven over before. It was quite scenic and a rather short ascent of 4 miles. On the other side of the continental divide, it was quite windy. As I approached Aid Station #4 at Summit County High School (77 miles into the ride), I was nearly out of fluids. I was delighted that there was virtually no waiting at the hydration station and lots of shady places to sit. I picked up a small sack of trail mix, an orange slice, and a Cliff Bar and found a shady place to sit and eat. Keeping a close eye on the clouds to the west, I didn’t sit for too long before hopping back on the bike. I was thrilled to have made it this far into the ride and knew without a doubt that I would be finished not long after summiting Vail Pass.

The last time I rode my bike over Vail Pass was during the Copper Triangle two years ago when I ascended from the west side and descended on the east side. I was pleased to see that the east side of the pass had been repaved recently and was silky smooth. The

At the Finish Line

ascent from the east went quicker than expected and I’m pleased to say that I passed, but did not get passed by anyone. As I pulled into Aid Station #5 on the summit of Vail Pass (92 miles into the ride) I could see some dark clouds building to the west. I grabbed just a few pretzels, an orange slice, and another bag of trail mix. I had topped off one bottle with the Cytomax hydration mix at the previous aid station and had not had any gastrointestinal problems with it, so I decided to go full strength with the drink mix. If any problems arose, I only had 18 downhill miles left.

As I descended into Vail I was struck in the lips by an insect with a very sharp stinger. In my efforts to rapidly brush it from my lips, I nearly crashed. As I sit and type this blog post two days later, I have swelling in both lips as neither were spared by the angry insect. I’m just grateful that I had my mouth closed! As I continued to pedal through Vail, I kept looking down at my Garmin to see how much further I had to go. On the summit of Vail Pass, I had somehow mis-calculated that I had only 18 more miles to ride, but it was in fact 28 more miles to the finish. Those last 10 miles, despite being flat, felt like the longest miles of the day. At one point, I began to think I had missed a turn as the signage was not as prevalent in Avon as it had been along the rest of the route.

I did it!!

As I approached the final round-a-bout, I was greeted by Avon Police Officers with “Congratulations! Welcome to Avon!”. It was the best news I’d heard all day. By this time, I’d been listening to my bike make lots of noise for the last 90 miles and couldn’t wait to get off (check back for another blog post on that… I have video!)! Not to mention that my legs were a little tired. As I pulled to a stop I felt a tickle under my jersey near my waistline. I lifted up my jersey and saw what I can only conclude to be the little insect that had stung my lips 20 miles ago. Now he was leaving his mark on my tummy. I guess it’s my very own souvenir from the 2014 Triple Bypass!

Listen and Learn

One beautiful October day last fall I was out for a mountain bike ride near Red Rocks Amphitheater in Morrison, Colorado. I was riding with my usual mountain biking buddy, JQ. We got off to a slow start as it had rained the night before making the first section of the trail muddy and slippery. Our pace picked up as we reached some smoother single track. Eventually, we got very near to the amphitheater itself and the single track became very groomed and un-technical. Maybe that was why I let my guard down. As I crossed a road and jumped over a water bar, I landed all wrong. As I was sent sailing over my handlebars into the air, I saw that I was headed face first toward a group of large boulders, strategically placed next to the trail as a barrier. The only thing I had time to do as the precipice of a rock rapidly approached my face was roll my head back toward my shoulder blades. This slight movement prevented me from breaking my face, but the full force of the impact was taken in my chest. I was not wearing a chest protector. And I don’t have a lot of “cushion” in that area, if you know what I mean.

I laid in the weeds wondering if this was going to be the crash that I didn’t walk away from. As I tried to catch my breath, I began to wiggle fingers and toes. I tried to call out to JQ to stop and wait for me, but it came out as a whisper. I slowly sat up and continued to gasp for breath. Eventually I stood and was shocked and pleased that everything still seemed to work. My bike was laying in a heap about ten feet away. It, too, still seemed to work, so I climbed on and started to pedal in the direction of JQ. By this time she was coming back to find me. We took the shortest route back to the cars, which was up Morrison Road. As the adrenalin started to wear off, the scrapes and bruises started to voice their discomfort. I had an x-ray the next day which showed a bruise to my sternum. I was told I could ride again when I was able to do a push up. I was back on the bike about four weeks later.

Four weeks after the crash puts us in November, and I didn’t ride the mountain bike much through the winter. In the last couple of months, I’ve been doing more mountain biking as I gear up for summer races. As a result of that crash, I’m a little gun shy of riding over boulders that normally wouldn’t even give me a reason to pause. It’s so frustrating to know what you are physically capable of only to have your brain bring it to a complete stop.

JQ and I recently we expert nt and rode at Alderfer/3 Sisters Park outside Evergreen, Colorado. The trail system there was great because there were many shorter loops you could connect into a substantial ride. We started on some flat trails with minor obstacles. Normally I have to try and chase JQ down to keep up with her, but that day, she held back and talked me through lines and over obstacles. I guess she, too, had observed my mental block on previous rides. Before I knew it, I was rolling over boulders like nobody’s business.

It would have been easy for me to let my pride get in the way of being open to her coaching. But I decided when I started this cycling journey that I would have to listen if I wanted to learn. I’ve learned so many little gems along the way because of that decision. And those lessons often come from unexpected sources.

	Kendrick on Boulder Roubaix
	Amber Minkoff Dennis on Colorado Mountain Bike Sa…
	J Sheets on Colorado Mountain Bike Sa…
	M. ‘Clem’ Clement on Bike Riding the Beartooth…
	Tracy on The Silver Lining

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