The truth about riding bikes is that eventually you’re going to go down. The number of times you go down and how hard you hit is directly proportional to how much you ride and how fast you go. If you race on any level your risk goes up exponentially.
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I realize my posts haven’t been all that frequent lately. That’s partly due to the fact that we’ve begun to settle into our lives here in Colorado and while that’s all wonderful and good, the things we’re doing don’t nicely fit into a blog that I’m sharing with the world. And partly because, as mentioned in the previous post, the spastic weather has kept our outdoor activities local, which end up being much like the ones I’ve already talked about in previous posts. But in the past few weeks the weather has started to warm up, the intermittent snow storms have turned to intermittent rain showers and things are finally starting to turn green around here. It seems like spring is real.
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WARNING: This post contains material that may not be suitable for all readers. It contains bicycle maintenance descriptions and images that, while not necessarily disturbing, may cause drowsiness for non-bike geeks and irritability in small children. Seekingtimberline.com does not condone the activities depicted and discourages anyone from attempting them. Reader discretion is advised.
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While the start of winter is defined as a date on the calendar, specifically the winter solstice on Dec 21st, around here winter comes more in layers than by date.
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Besides being the year of the global pandemic, 2020 marked two momentous and significantly more positive events in my life. I retired, twice. I checked out of the corporate meat grinder after 35 years and I retired from bike racing after 24 years.
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When you’re new in town it’s important to talk to the locals to get the low down on how things, you know, work. Where are the good restaurants? Who’s your vet? Know a good car mechanic? And when a local asks you to participate in something, no matter what it is, you do it. Hey, want to go for a ride? Sure! We’re hiking tomorrow, you interested? Would love to! Goat yoga? In!
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Our house is on Methodist mountain, the northern most peak in the Sangre de Cristo range. Methodist is more of a big green lump than something spectacular like the Sawatch range across the valley or the Sangres further south. Most of the peaks around here are named after Native American chiefs or ivy league colleges so I was curious how Methodist got its name. I did some research (ok, I Googled for 30 minutes) but didn’t turn up anything definitive on the name origin. I like to think that it had something to do with Methodist pioneers who lived in the area performing long-forgotten rituals in the woods, druid pot luck dinners, bingo games and such. But I digress.
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Just north of downtown Salida, at the end of F street is Tenderfoot hill, also known as S mountain because of the big Salida S on it. The Arkansas hills are the rugged hills behind Tenderfoot. Not that impressive to look at but oh lordy, perfect for mountain biking.
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I’ve frequently said that to be a cyclist in Houston, you have to REALLY like cycling. Pretty much everything is stacked against you.
