Zen on the mountain

It was a chilly day and I had just gotten into a new book on the philosophy of things around us and our reality. The light and temperature in my place were perfect for reading, and I had not taken a day off to turn my computer off and just read and be silent anytime in recent memory. I was calm and absorbing the lessons of this reading.

Fortunately, something I read inspired me to get off my ass and ride. I normally include the climb I was itching to ride as part of a longer route from my house, but this day was just unpleasant enough for me to drive there. Wind, low temperatures, threatening rain, and a desire to really focus on the climb had me in my truck instead of pedaling.

1:52 was the time when I shut the truck off at the parking lot.

Two dudes were getting dropped off by girls at the base of the mountain. I noticed the girls, and they looked pretty good. They drove some kind of late model activity vehicle and were dressed in the heighth of mainstream cycling fashion. I overheard one guy telling the other about his GPS device that has some sort of electronic altimeter function as well. These guys were pumped to climb. I was pumped to climb faster than them.

I dropped to the third-easiest gear on my corn cob rear sprocket set. I was amazed at the traction afforded me by the street and my tires, as compared to my ride on the mountain bike a day earlier. In my previous best effort up this hill, I used the 2nd-easiest cog exclusively and was pleased with my ability to do this. So dropping one gear harder was either going to blow me up, or hopefully, get me to the top in record time.

I elected to forego the use of a timing device since these jante riders were overheard by me talking about gadgets and electronics. I elected instead a slightly purer experience. I would only be able to judge my ride based on the riders I would pass, or be passed by. I immediately passed those jantes and monitored their progress on the first couple of switchbacks. They were losing ground to me, which was what I wanted. I stayed in that #3 gear the whole way up that mountain. One rider who had been resting at the 2/3 point jumped out ahead of me as I approached and I could not catch him. But I did not lose sight of him, either.

I made it to the top feeling powerful and happy with the legs and circulatory system, for strength remained with me. Unwinded by the effort, which was undoubtedly my personal fastest ascent, I turned around at the top and raced down the hill. The top third of the descent in particular was cold, perhaps 40-45 degrees. I passed cars on the way down as I typically do. The guy I couldn't catch on the way up got stuck behind a row of three cars and I joined him there and we descended together, until we reached the parking lot. At the bottom, without stopping, I turned around began another ascent.

The route up Lookout Mountain gains 1,220' in 4.5 miles, which is not particularly steep (approximately 5.1% on average, with some steep spots). It is, however, a pure and spectacular climb from the base to the summit. I intended to turn in a decent time on my second ascent, but the aggression was out of my legs at about the 1/2 way mark and I resorted to my typical pace (approximately 28 minutes for the whole climb). I still put in a strong effort and was only passed by one tall, lanky, strong rider in a full race kit, with about 2/10 of a mile to the top. Riders dressed in the heighth of racing fashion are exceedingly common on this front range.

I again reached the top of this hill with energy in the tank, and told myself that if it weren't for the weather and my lack of proper attire, I would make it a 3-climb day. I again shivered on the descent and admired the goosebumps on my exposed arms as I flew down the hill, this time using both lanes to smooth the angles as I raced down. Again I passed cars after staring down drivers in their side-view mirrors. I arrived at the bottom and skidded up to my car. The jantes, finished with their climb and presumable ready to take it easy, were loading their rides and telling their girlfriends about the highlights of their experience. "You'll do it faster next time" I heard a woman tell one of the men. I saw female legs but did not admire any other feature of these women, but did put some jeans and a t-shirt on before hopping in my truck and leaving that group in the dust.

I turned my car on and the clock said 3:20. Two laps of that motherfucker in 1:28, including the putting on of the shoes and then jeans and admiring of those girls and whatnot. Drove through a few miles of heavy rain, then met old man maximin at the snug for whiskey and some corned beef and went about my life.