You Win Some, You Lose Some

Some rides are glorious. They bring us closer to the true meaning of life and all of existence. They are filled with triumph and smiles and good friends and happy tailwinds. They challenge us and we meet that challenge with gusto. These rides are the reason we call ourselves cyclists.

Some rides are not so glorious. In fact, they suck, if I may be so vulgar. No reward, no glory, no happy bicycle feelings. Just miles, ugly hateful miles. If you ride, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Wednesday, I had one of those rides.

The plan: get up at 5am, be on the bike by 5:30am. Ride to Poncha Pass, watch the sun rise as I rode home by 7:15am.

The reality: got up at 5am, was on the bike by 5:45am. Started towards Poncha Spings. Headwinds blowing at 20mph/32kph, temperature 30F/-1C. Rather than getting warmer as I rode, I got colder. I stopped quickly to add the only extra piece of clothing I had, but that vest did little to warm me. Except for my headlight, it was completely dark out; the wind blasting, my fingers and toes freezing. At Mears Junction(about two miles short of the pass) I reasoned with myself; I don’t owe anyone anything, I got nothing to prove, I’m not enjoying this at all. F this, I’m turning around. And I did.

Coasting downhill, no longer working to keep my engine warm, I got cold. Really cold. Fast.  At times I would sit up, put my hands under my arm pits, lean forward and close my body as tight as possible, while doing 30-40mph. I just kept getting colder. Eventually I reached Poncha Springs where the road levels off. Five miles later, I was nearly home, just three more blocks, two more turns.

“OH SHIT!” I swerved quickly to avoid running into one of the many deer that roam the streets of Salida. Though my headlight is bright, this animal suddenly appeared from the left and I had to swerve abruptly to avoid smashing into its ass-end. A minute later I was home.
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I pulled off my shoes/booties and helmet and jumped into bed. I was shivering and groaning and feeling really sorry for myself. After about five minutes of convulsions and swearing, I finally pulled myself together. I changed into warm, insulating clothing and turned on the kettle. It was 7:15am. As for the sunrise, woefully dissatisfying. Just a little sliver of yellow poking through the clouds above the dark mountains. “I should’ve stayed in bed” I thought to myself.

Oh well. That’s cycling, that’s life. You win some, you lose some. But if you don’t suffer the bad days, you don’t get to relish to good ones. Guess this early morning fiasco made up for the many glorious days of riding I’ve enjoyed in Colorado the past few weeks. Payback really is a MF’er.