I fell in love with my bike again this week.
It was my friends birthday trip and his goal was to ride his way across Colorado. He invited us along and promised I'd have plenty of places to run. It sounded like fun, so we agreed to tag along for the days we were off.
I haven't actually liked my bike in a long time. Like five years a long time. Maybe closer to six. But, it was one of my best friend's birthdays, so I figured I'd say least ride one or two of the three days we had with the group.
I packed three biking kits and two sets of running clothes. I was mildly worried that I hadn't packed enough running clothes.
I don't have any idea what happened. Maybe it had to do with being somewhere beautiful. Maybe it had to do with good company. It certainly didn't have a damned thing to do with feeling good on the bike, because, frankly, I felt like absolute shit this first few miles. We were riding in Black Canyon of the Gunnison, more specifically, up the road that led there, and it was straight uphill out of the gate. Ugh. THAT was one of the better mindfucks I've had in a long time.
Here I am, thinking I'm hot shit because I've been running all summer, thinking that a few thousand vertical on the bike should be no problem... Ha. Was I wrong.
In any case. I made it up the climb and into the actual park. I'd never biked a national park before. I LOVED it. We ended up going about the same speed as the cars, but for once it didn't feel totally lame to stop at most of the overlooks. At least we were riding bikes in between, not just starting and stopping a car every four and a half minutes...
Not gonna lie. I enjoyed every second of that ride. Well, at the top at least. And the descent was something to behold. The crosswinds were something else. And for the first time in my life I wasn't scared. I mean, it wasn't the most fun I've ever had. But I made it back to the car without squealing like a banshee.
The next day, it didn't even occur to me that I shouldn't ride my bike again. I mean, I still had another day after that to run, and that was all I had intended, one run in three days. It's my buddy's birthday trip, he wants to ride, I'm gonna ride.
The start of day two was way more pleasant than the first. Everyone still took off ahead of me, and, frankly, I was kinda pissy about it. Kindly, my husband waited for me and rode with me for a bit.
He wanted to go father than I did that day, and I finally told him to go on and I'd just turn around when he caught back up to me after he'd turned around.
Of course, I regretted that decision as soon as it was out of my mouth. In true Matt fashion, he'd taken off like a bat out of hell. He knows me, you see. He knows that if I have more than thirty seconds to think about choices like that that I make that I'll change my mind.
Well, he was right. I almost yelled for him to come back. Then I looked around at the beauty around me. And I made the choice to enjoy my day.
Boy did I. We were on the north, less traveled side of the Black Canyon, the Black Mesa. The absolute gorgeous that was the scenery took my breath away. It was a completely different perspective than I'd ever experienced before. And some how, some way, I started loving my bike again. I started focusing on the amazing places it can take me, somewhere between the speed of driving a car and the slowness of running.
That may have been one of the best days in a long time for me. Somewhere along the line I freed myself of the anti bike attitude I've developed over the past few years, like enjoying my bike was somehow wrong. I finally let myself relax enough on the bike to really enjoy it. And it was awesome.
Needless to say, I really didn't think twice about riding for a third day in a row... Good thing I brought three kits!
