The Squirrel Is Dead

I had two mountain bike races last weekend. The Saturday Hill climb at Winter Park went well, but it sure hurt! We climbed form the base of Winter Park up to the top of Mary Jane on the dirt road. There was still snow everywhere!

Sunday was the Beti Bike Bash. I was doing well and really pushing hard when my bike wouldn't shift out of the big ring. After some fiddling (Georgia Gould stopped to help me!) I kept going while wrestling with the shifter. As some point I start hearing a clink clink clink noise and the bike feels waaaay unstable. I thought maybe I was just tired from all the racing. I stopped again to find out what the clinking was. OMG - it was my bike frame! A tube has sheared right by the shock. Catashrophic failure indeed.

I really didn't want to DNF (did not finish) so I decided to run up the rest of the hills and ride m broken steed ever so slowly the rest of the way. I must have had at least 15 girls pass me, but I finished!

So what does this all have to do with squirrels? I named this mountain bike the Squirrel. Bye bye Mr. Squirrel.

The Long Haul

There's just something I love about really long mountain bike rides. There's this level of zen, it's the same as I feel when I run for over an hour. I was lucky enough to get in a long ride like this on Saturday. We did sections 2 and 3 of the colorado trail. It was such a good ride. Most people turned around after abot 12 miles due to time constrains, but Heather and Paul were up for more. Yeah! We got in about 30 miles of singletrack and 10 miles of dirt road.