A Rare Day in Colorado's Front Range

High above Colorado Springs.

There are some pretty weird hobbies in this world:  rubber band collections, dressing up like a stuffed animal, or jumping off bridges with a parachute to name a few.

When you really think about it, climbing and descending hiking trails on a bicycle is no more or less reasonable than collecting porcelain figurines, running ultra-marathons or re-writing all the endings to Disney movies to make them horror flicks.

But for some reason I've chosen mountain biking.  So, what exactly do I get out of it?  Why do I spend an inordinate amount of my free time either mountain biking or thinking about mountain biking?  Why is it more appealing to me than, say, chasing a little white ball around a meticulously landscaped yard?

The Monarch Crest Trail, Salida, Colorado

It was obvious I didn't learn much in my 8th grade Spanish class after I spent four days in Salida, CO wondering why anyone would name a city "Salad." I guess "Gran Montana," "Rio Blanco" or "Ciudad de Sucio Hippy" seem more appropriate.

I've often tried to find the words to accurately describe the four July days I spent slogging through the Colorado backcountry, riding some of the best single track the Rockies have to offer, including racing Xterra Beaver Creek, DNF'ing the Breckenridge 100, riding remote backcountry segments of the Colorado Trail, and tackling a 40 mile descent of Salida's infamous Monarch Crest Trail.

I think the problem was I was traveling solo and by the time I got home I was so sick of my own thoughts that I couldn't be bothered to try to put pen to paper and share them with anyone else. But enough time has gone by that I can go back to that amazing cold dark place and tell you why I'm dying to go return to CO and do it all again.