Ride the Line

XXCMAG.COM “Let’s test your threshold of pain- Let’s see how long you last”- The Misfits As Brush Creek road climbs away from its namesake drainage, the willows give way to golden grasses and stubborn sagebrush.  The narrow road just gets steeper and steeper and there are heartbreakingly few switchbacks to break up the unending ascent. I stuck close to Magelky’s wheel and we passed Jordan Williford. Beyond Magelky, just up the road was Evan Ross spinning along on the ever steepening grade.  At the roads high-point we passed through a fence and began to descend toward the Deer Creek single-track.  Despite the fact he was just back from an injury, Magelky was riding well and I used the fact I was able to hold his wheel as motivation to keep my pace high. The Deer Creek single-track begins with a gentle, by Crested Butte standards, climb as it meanders along Deer Creek. However, once the trail crosses the shallow stream the gradient averages a gonad crushing twelve per

“I can’t Throw it all away- I need some courage to find my weakness”- The Ramones      The Crested Butte Classic transcends definition… Is it a group ride? Is it a race? Is it something more? Frankly, I don’t give a damn what is “is”. For me, the Crested Butte Classic is all of the above and more. There is never a shortage of talent to be found at the Classic and for that reason it is a good place to test myself against the super talented and unabashedly humble athletes from Crested Butte and the Gunnison Valley.  More importantly, the trails and the folks that make up the Classic are some of the finest anywhere!      The Classic is the brain-child of the uber-friendly and down to earth Dave Ochs. Anyone who toes the line at the Classic is instantly indebted to this “man of the sweet, sweet, single-track.” This year Dave’s birthday coincided with the Classic as well as the first day of fall. He celebrated in style by slaying all three laps of The Classic… In spite of a bro

On Saturday I rolled out of my driveway and pedaled toward the Colorado National Monument knowing I had eaten too many pancakes and that this would be a bad thing in the beginning... but perhaps, on the lower slopes of the final climb of the day they would keep me going. As I ascended the steep switchbacks of the Monument's western entrance the smell of smoldering vehicle brakes singed my nostrils. I made sure not to drift too far out into the road as the tourists filed by in their rental cars and the Glade Park residents charged past in diesels and old pick-ups so beat to hell it is hard to believe they were still capable of hauling the huge tanks of water in their beds up the steep grades. All of the engine noise and the exhaust fumes remind me that this place, on a Saturday morning at least,  is no place to "check-out" and allow your thoughts to drift...  While it serves its purpose, training on the pavement is not what I live for- It is a means to an end, a neces

There are changes slowly washing over the mountains and valleys as one season gives itself over to the next. We/us, you/I, are different than we were months ago- Stronger,wiser for surviving another summer and looking toward what is next- Gaining firm footing as the leaves pile up and the frost prunes away the last of the stubborn wildflowers- It has been a long season; sweating, suffering, conquering and learning that slow is just as important as fast sometimes. I have neglected this space, this opportunity to shed some light upon who I am and what I think about the world around me- Transformations abound and many are just ahead of me- Prepare yourselves dear readers, this space will not simply be about Watts and Heart Rate and Intervals and VO2 Max and carbon fiber and rolling resistance. There will be doubt and loss and adventure and discovery... life and death and all the scabs, scars and bruises that carve us into who we are- Evolution- Sure- if I am fortunate enough to hav