The Awkward Pose

Start:  Copper Mountain, CO

Finish: Leadville, CO

Weather:  70 degrees, cloudy

Bike Time: 3.5 hours

Miles:  33

Distance to date: 264

Today was a half day on the Courage Classic; an eight mile ride up Fremont Pass, then a glide into Leadville and a scenic tour around the back side of town, along the edge of Turquoise Lake.

At 10,200 feet, Leadville has a growing season of only 32 days, but fortunately for us we hit the right time.  The wild flowers are everywhere, fields of blue and red, white and purple.  The high altitude makes the colors very intense.

Tim, Sherwin, Kaycie, Paul (or Shorty) and John at Fremont Pass

Start:  Copper Mountain, CO

Finish: Copper Mountain, CO

Weather:  Sunny, 80 degrees

Bike Time: 9 hours

Miles:  85

Distance to date: 231

I was solo today.  For various reasons everyone opted for the 35 mile ‘Family Ride’ but I shot for the century, which turned out to be only 85 miles.  A full day of biking from Copper though Frisco, Silverthorne, out to Ute Pass, Dillon, Keystone, Breckinridge, and back through Frisco to Copper.  I felt great, the bike felt great.

Riding in and around these towns makes one realize how ‘new’ everything is in Colorado.  These towns were crossroads
that had trading posts or rail junctions or ranches until well into the 1960’s and 70’s. The conjunction of the interstate highway, skiing as pleasure sport and American affluence these places bigger boom towns in the 1990’s and 2000’s than they ever were during the rounds of gold, iron, and copper fever that created their economic base in earlier times.

Start:  Leadville, CO

Finish: Copper Mountain, CO

Weather:  Sunny, 80 degrees

Bike Time: 8 hours

Miles:  61

Distance to date: 146

Today was the first day of the Courage Classic, a three day fund raiser through the mountains for the Denver Children’s Hospital.   Members of my family have been doing this ride for more than ten years.  Coming to Denver to do this ride was the generator of my entire bike adventure.

More than 2,000 cyclists converged on Leadville (Elevation 10,200, the highest town in America) on the brilliant morning.  It was a cool 45 degrees as we headed down the route through a beautiful mountain meadow and then rose up to Tennessee Pass (10,400 feet), where we crossed the Continental Divide.  We enjoyed over ten miles of downhill, rolling through the Pando Valley, where Camp Hale and the Tenth Mountain Division were based during World War II. The scenery was
breathtaking, from the gigantic mountains to the fragile wild flowers.  Fortunately my breath was in good shape after
days of drinking gallons of water (and no alcohol).  At this altitude there is only 60% of the oxygen I enjoy in Boston, but I avoided getting an altitude headache.

We took a serious uphill climb to conquer Battle Mountain, my first time diving into my lowest gear.  I actually do better on the
uphill climbs, which I just grind out, than the downhill portions.  I hit speeds up to 30 mph on the widest areas, but I was getting passed all the time by cyclists who go 40, even 50
downhill.

From Battle Mountain, we did another 10 miles downhill to Vail (Elevation 7,700 feet), had lunch, and then had to pay for all of our coasting.

Vail Pass is an 18 mile stretch of uphill that has two distinct components.  The first eleven miles is a steady rise to 8,500 feet, and then there is a seven mile stretch that climbs to over 10,500 feet – up and up and up.  The trail is the old US 40, now decommissioned.  It is probably beautiful if you look around, but most of us had our heads down grinding out the climb.

The last four miles is a tranquil descent through a mountain valley with a creek alongside.  It is remarkably serene considering that it runs through the middle of I-70, which is separated by almost a half a mile in this section, with westbound on our left and east bound on our right

The day was a total success except that my brother Tim noticed my rear wheel was out of alignment on the final section. I spent over an hour in the bike repair tent back at Copper where a sweet guy adjusted and trued the wheel.  He thinks the wheel is not up to the loads I am carrying.  This is at odds with the
recommendation of the guys where I bought the bike.   Disappointing news, but all part of why I wanted to take a shake-down week before I taking off where there are limited
services.  I will ride tomorrow with careful attention to the wheel; it may need attention when I return to Denver.

On top of Battle Mountain with Tim and John

Start:  Denver, CO

Finish: Evergreen CO

Weather:  Sunny, 90 degrees

Bike Time: 3.5 hours

Miles:  29

Distance to date: 85

I loaded up this morning as if I were venturing on my own, my full set of saddlebags, water bottles, lock, the whole deal, and set off across Denver and up into the foothills, where I was going to meet my brother in route to Copper Mountain.  The first half of the ride was through Beaver Creek Trail, a bike trail that winds through Denver from the South Platte, rising slowly to the Beaver Creek Dam, where it leads to Morrison, the first of the foothill towns.   From Morrison I took my first serious up hills, past Red Rock Canyon, onto US 40 (which is practically empty due to the adjacent Interstate 70), through Genesee to Evergreen.  Eight miles going straight up.  I was a heavy vehicle, but hit the McDonalds along I-70 by 11 am, plenty of time to catch my ride to Copper.

Start:  Denver, CO

Finish: Denver, CO

Weather:  Sunny, 90 degrees

Bike Time: 3.5 hours

Miles:  36

Distance to date: 56

Denver is a cyclist’s paradise. The city has over 850 miles of paved bicycle trails, a network of designated bicycle routes marked along city streets, a system of bicycle share locations throughout the city, and bicycle racks on city buses and trains.  Bicyclists are everywhere; business men with briefcases, fitness junkies, Hispanics in custodian uniforms, blue-haired grandmothers, and moms with their kids in tow.  The network builds upon itself.  Since riding is convenient and safe, more people ride, and the more people ride, the more the automobile drivers are
aware of, and respectful of, cyclists.  After only two days, I feel
more comfortable riding around Denver than I do in Cambridge, and much more comfortable than I do in Boston.

I wondered whether this network made a dent in our overall energy consumption.  According to the Bicycle Resolution of the US Conference of Mayors, the average bicycle commuter saves $1825 per year in auto related costs, reduces their annual carbon emissions by 128 pounds, conserves 145 gallons of gasoline and avoids 50 hours of gridlock.  Currently bicycle commuting makes up less than 1% of all commutes, but if we could nudge that number up by only ½ a percent, the US could save 462 million gallons of gasoline.

There is, of course, another upside to bicycle commuting, which is personal fitness.  Colorado boasts the lowest obesity rate in
America (19.8% according to a 2011 Robert Wood Johnson Foundation Study, versus a whopping 34.4% for top ranked Mississippi).  Colorado is now the only state with less than 20% obesity.  Bicycling helps contribute to that good rating, though it is hardly a number worth cheering about.  Twenty years ago no state had an obesity rate over 15%.  We are getting fat faster than we are getting fit.

Still, Denver’s bike friendly ways are a welcome alternative to driving in cars.  Today I cycled along the path that runs north/south along the South Platte River.  Denver has had an unusually wet summer and the Platte is flowing strong, with dozens of small waterfalls.  The trail runs through residential, urban, industrial and pastoral districts.  It is both functional and beautiful.    The trail is well marked, smoothly paved, and ducks under cross streets.  It is wonderful on a 90 degree day to dip into an underpass, catch some shade, and get a cool breeze off the roaring river.  In two locations there was construction
and the bike path had well signed, dedicated detours which sent the message to me that in Denver, bikes are equal to cars.
It is a message that resonates strong with me.

South Platte River Bike Trail – Denver, CO

Start:  Denver, CO

Finish: Denver, CO

Weather:  Sunny, 95 degrees

Bike Time: 2 hours

Miles:  20

Distance to date: 20

I headed out of Cycle Analyst and headed north to Colfax.  My adventure began riding east on Colfax, the street that figured prominently in Kerouac’s On The Road.  He was heading West in his old car, I headedeast on the bike, riding along a strip of America that is showing its age, the bus stops full of aging Hispanics and Blacks, the IHOP roof repainted to boast Mama’s Café, and the windows of Pete’s Kitchen sweaty with heat.  After satisfying my presumptuous connection to Kerouac, I turned south and made a maiden ride of twenty miles along Denver’s extensive system of bike paths.  The bike worked like a charm, though the spiffy leather seat I bought is hard as a diamond.  Time will tell how long it will take to break it in.  My butt is hoping for sooner rather than later.

When God cobbled together my DNA, he conveniently left out the shopping gene.  It is a handy omission, since I don’t particularly care for collecting the stuff of the material world. I can stroll through Urban Outfitters or Brookstone and enjoy looking at the objects with the same detachment I view sculptures at the MFA. Cool stuff, but I have no interest in actually owning any of it.

I manage to do very little shopping in this material world.  An unanticipated upside of being divorced is that every month I pay Abby and Andy’s mom money and she is responsible for buying all the stuff they need.  It is not a good deal financially, but it has eliminated hundreds of Target runs.  My housemate loves to shop and cook.  His rent is ridiculously low, our refrigerator is ridiculously full, and I rarely have to go to the supermarket.  Another win-win.  I have found terrific dress
shirts on-line, I buy all my extended family gifts through Amazon, my children have learned that I am the only Dad in the world who actually welcomes a new tie on Father’s Day; as a color-blind man buying ties is torture.  Abby and Andy have great taste that allow me to maintain at least a modicum of the cool factor that architects are supposed to have.  Without their input, my wardrobe would be IBM circa 1963.

But there are times when I cannot avoid buying things, and taking a cross country bike trip requires a certain amount of specialized ‘stuff’.  For a few weeks I considered riding my current bike – a Giant Hybrid that is a bulldog in Boston weather.  But it is not built for hills and is already worn past prime. I would have gladly paid Andy a few hundred to be my personal outfitter; he loves to rummage around EMS and REI, but he in Florida this summer and at some level a touring bike is like suit – you’ve got to try it on in person.

Logistics entered the picture.  I live in Boston and was starting my ride in Denver.  Do I buy in Boston, get used to the bike, and ship it out there, or do I fly to Denver cold turkey, buy a bike out there and start pedaling?  Being The Awkward Poser, I found a middle way. I test drove bikes in Boston, found the
one I liked, and ordered it in advance from a shop in Denver.

Lesson One in test driving bikes – I needed one.  Bikes designed for touring are smooth and their gear ratios are wide.
I have enough years on my aging frame that I cannot scoff at the enhanced technology that a good bike offers in creating an easy ride.

Lesson Two in test driving bikes – when you move beyond buying the basic $500 bike off the showroom floor, the bike
itself is only step one of a multi-layered purchase.  Lights, racks, brakes, pumps, tires, panniers, seats, fenders, pedals, they are all add-ons.  My $1200 bike is no more useful than that sculpture at the MFA; without the accessories you can’t even roll it out the door.

Lesson Three in test driving bikes – this bike is not a thing, it is my new BFF. As I pedaled the Surly Long Haul Trucker up the hills of West Newton, floating up the hill at a low gear, my
hands firm on the bars, the seat a good fit, I realized this is the one.  The ten minute spins I had taken with the Trek, the Specialized, and the Raleigh were speed dates gone bust, this was the babe I was going to clamp my butt to for 3,000 miles, the machine I would get to know and trust, and in turn she would conform in time to suit only me.  It is the 21st century sustainable version of that eternal buddyship; a man and his horse, a man and his car, a man and his bike.

I called Surly bike dealers in Denver near my sister’s house and ordered the bike from Cycle Analyst, a small store that specializes in touring bikes.  The fact that they did not accept credit cards for over the phone confirmed to me they were the right choice, a place of bike geeks with scant business sense.

When I actually arrived at Cycle Analyst on the afternoon I flew into Denver, my preconceptions were confirmed; a half dozen guys in board shorts with allen wrenches humming away assembling, repairing, adoring bicycles.  Ryan, a rail thin chap in a motor cap with a handle bar moustache showed me my bike and escorted me through the array of accessory options. Within ten minutes I was numb from too many choices and more or less caved to all his suggestions.  Two hours later, Ryan had put together an awesome collection of components and after a bit of help from me on how to tabulate the various prices, discounts and taxes, he rang me up. The final tally made me appreciate more than ever that shopping is not a regular
occurrence in my life.

I left the shop with nothing but a receipt slip, to return the next day to pick up the fully assembled merchandise.  Good things are worth waiting for.

As a child, my two favorite pastimes were flying kites and riding my bike.  I pursued each in solitary.  They provided release from the noisy tension of my family and were consequently a tad suspect in a family that stressed team activities over the individual.  I don’t recall ever announcing an afternoon of kite flying at the school field or meandering my bicycle through the streets of Toms River.  I simply slipped out of the back door and disappeared.

In adulthood both pursuits still hold sway.  In my novel, Weekends in Holy Land, the protagonist is an avid kite flyer, and an untethered kite leads him to his muse. In real life I own a trio of gorgeous long tailed kites, the most treasured gift I received from my mother, who sent them one Christmas for Abby, Andy and me.  They ascend with ease and dance over the breeze with grace.

Bicycling is a more integral, practical part of my life.  Ever since I took a job in downtown Boston in 1996 and understood that a regular subway commute would drive me mad, I have bicycle commuted; a seven mile ride along the river and through the Common.  Fifteen years ago I was an anomaly; but in these days of green speak and four dollar a gallon gasoline, the route can get crowded on sunny days.

I am a determined cyclist and ride when the weather of the moment allows, not by the anticipated forecast.  If it is not actively raining in the morning, I ride.  If there is no snow on the ground, I ride.  If it is above ten degrees outside, I ride.  If I ride in the morning and the world turns stormy in the evening, I can always leave my bike at work (covered parking!) and subway home.  Many are the days when the forecast is grim but the morning merelyovercast.  I ride to work, and toil while a wicked storm rages outside only to clear in time for me to ride home.  Those days leave me feeling triumphant over
the anxious weathermen whose advice would have me scurrying for the claustrophobia of the underground train.

About ten years ago I expanded my notion of commuting to include virtually all trips within the 128 beltway.  Unless I have to transport something bulky, I do all my travel by bike.  It may take a bit longer, but the time is well spent because I not only get from point A to point B, but I do it without stress.

The favorite part of my daily commute is the turn across the bridge from Cambridge to Boston.  A line of cars queues there.  I see the faces of the people behind their windshields, one person per vehicle, frowning at the light, applying makeup or gripping their wheel.  They are not a happy bunch, oblivious to their display inside their rolling steel.  I downshift to take on the rise of the bridge and whistle, happy in my lot.

Bicycling is meditative and restorative for me.  Not as conscious as yoga, perhaps, but still significant.  Bicycling does not require the same concentration as driving.  I don’t channel my brainwaves by listening to headphones; I am aware of what is going on both beyond and within me.  When I arrive at work I am usually in a cheerful mood, which is not my status when I lug out of bed.  The bicycle does that.

Even though bicycle commuting is positive in all regards, it lacks the poetic arch that leisure bicycle travel can offer, and so, when I reached this point of wanting / needing an experience that transcends my routine, I decided to make a grand bicycle adventure.

On July 19, I fly to Denver with nothing but a shopping bag of a few clothes, a book, and a netbook.   Over the past few weeks I have trialed a number of bicycles, found one a
like (Surly Long Haul tucker) and ordered it from a shop in Denver.  When I arrive I will pick up my bike, outfit it with saddle bags and lights, a new helmet, clip shoes, an odometer and other paraphernalia.  Then I will spend a few days acclimating to the altitude before participating in the Courage Classic, a three day bicycle fund raiser to support the Denver Children’s Hospital with my brother Tim and brother-in-law John; a hundred miles or so and two major peaks.

That is all a preamble to the main event, as on July 26 I will head out of Denver to ride East, hopefully all the way back to Boston.  I have sketched a conceptual route – down to
Oklahoma to visit my brother Pete and his family, up through Historic Route 66, across the farmland of Indiana, diagonally through Ohio (who know Ohio had the most elaborate network of rail-to-trail bike routes?), up to the Great Lakes and across New York State on a route that parallels the Erie Canal.  Close to 3,000 miles in total, and if I average 70-80 miles per day I will be back in Boston by Labor Day.  If not, I will have to catch a bus wherever I am in early September so I can report back to work on the 6^th.

Without the pressures of work, I anticipate that the Awkward Poser will be pondering and writing during the route, both trip updates and the mental musings that are the true gift of sustained time with one’s thoughts.  Everyone is invited to follow along for the ride to find out what happens.   Maybe, somewhere along the gusty Kansas prairie a strong wind will pull me up and I can be both bicycle and kite, nourishing each of my childhood fascinations.