Pikes Peak — America’s Mountain, America the Beautiful, purple mountain majesties and all that. Something I’ve been wanting to do for some time is to ride it. With summer starting to wind down, it occurred to me that I better get cracking if I was going to do it this year.
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Something you find out about quickly in Colorado is how distances between places get distorted by the terrain of the state. On a map, two towns may look close to each other but because there’s a mountain range between them, the practical distance, the distance you have to drive, is surprisingly far.
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It was way past time to give the road bike some love. It’s funny, in Houston I practically lived on my road bike. Pre-COVID my routine was long group rides on weekends, recovery ride on Monday, hammerfests on Tuesday and Thursday, summer races on Wednesday, rest day Friday. Like clockwork. For years. About the only time I rode my mountain bike was to race. But that makes some sense. Houston is pavement rich, trail poor. Here, the equation has been flipped and I now find I live on my mountain bike while the road bike mostly collects dust on a hook in the garage. It was time to right that wrong.
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If I have one little gripe about our new hometown — and granted, I feel so lucky to be here it seems ridiculously whiny to even mention it at all — it’s that the road riding opportunities are limited.
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