This New Thing: “Mountain” Biking

It’s sincerely not against my character to take on major goals completely out of order,  so when I admit to you that I signed myself up for a 2750 mile mountain bike race, without having ridden a mountain bike any appreciable distance since many years before I lost my delicate virginity, you will not find this too startling.

I write this entry about 100 days before the race is set to begin and about 100 days since I’ve
put my proverbial hat in the ring to do it. Even I thought it perhaps time to, you know, ride one one of these contraptions and make sure it’s for me.

Details, details.

One elevating problem that I will need to solve pretty soon is one of funding. I don’t, as it stands have the funds to afford a bike to do this race. So for now, I’m scrimping and saving and borrowing what I can, when I can. For this weekend’s ride, I took out a bike owned by my roommate – some sort dual suspension job of questionable vintage and dubious origin. It looks a little like this:

The Borrowed Ride
Taking a moment’s rest on the Highline Canal

Found at a pawn shop for less than 200 bones, it’s almost surely stolen, or owned by a very clueless or desperate person. Roommate looked and posted about  finding the bike and looking for the owner. No response. He himself had a very fancy full-carbon fiber job of a bike stolen himself, thus his visitation to the pawn shop initially.

The bike is a little too large for him, so he rarely uses it. The bike is freakin’ huge for me, so I have never used it, until I got the itch, which was this weekend. Did my best to make the too-large problem go away, by, uh, moving the saddle thing a little closer to the handle bars. Questionable worth. I woke up the next day with arms that ache more than my legs protested.

The following will be my report on riding a mountain bike for, basically the first time as an adult. For those who’ve ridden these types of machines for years and years (and given the nature of the material on this site, it’s a good chance you have), you will find it very, very quaint indeed, reading of routes so ho-hum and over-explored and over-used. But, for a pure beginner, throwing oneself into these things was as if the world I knew had renewed and expanded itself.

Sunday, started the ride down the Cherry Creek Bike Path South, watching the weekend warriors battle it out with the crazies such as myself. The Cherry Creek Bike Path crosses the venerable High Line Canal which I took, as its black-topped path turns into dirt and what better way to introduce oneself to off-road riding than this bunny slope of a dirt path.

Perfectly manicured, the High Line Canal noodles its way through the suburban homes of the South Denver environs. If one was to de-focus their eyes just a touch, one could imagine  being in a more civilized country, such as the Netherlands, zooming through tidy little villages. It always astounds me how little visual buffer zone is needed from making one think they’re in a completely different place and time.

But, no. Still in Cow Town. The canal path does give you a little taste – a little wink up the dress of some of Denver’s more well to-do. In short: the houses that line up near the canal path and it’s little ponds and little fields and little patches of trees are immense. The, “NO TRESPASSING” signs are as well. It’s just all surreal.

The pavement-to-dirt transition is easy enough. The condition of the gravel is easy enough to conquer on the most tricked-out road bike. The canal path also has almost no agenda to actually get anywhere, noodling North West to South East as it slowly makes its way approximately South West. My destination was Green “Mountain” (really, just a big pile of dirt, in Rocky Mountain standards) and this path has easily added 10 miles to my riding.

The High Line canal eventually meets the E-470 path, one of the more curious bike paths in Denver. It crosses many busy streets, but requires you to cross most of them, without any convenient underpasses. It’s also somewhat forgettable, as the rumbling from the nearby E-470 doesn’t make much a taste for us with well-trained palettes.  Going this way has actually added another 10 miles to my ride – there’s much faster ways to get to Green Mountain, I guess I just wanted some excuse to do a big ride.

I turned off the trail onto Alameda (State HW 26 at this point) and entered the Green Mountain Park at Forsberg Trailhead, having absolutely no idea where to go from there. I took the right most trail (which turned out to be the one I wanted) and got a taste of some real mountain biking!

Mountain seemed steep. At one point, a man with a frisky puppy was about to overtake me on the trail. On the road, anything over a 5% grade may give someone pause, or exclaim, “Whoa, a little steep here, eh?”. Famous routes in France will actually label the grade, to give you warning and something to talk about, later.

The first thing I relearned about mountain biking is:

#1 Steepness on routes is normal


#2: You go slow a lot.

Well learned! I made my way around Green Mountain’s South and Eastern perimeter, up to the antennae “summit” and down, ever so dangerously (Lesson #3: If you think your brakes are really good, you’re wrong.) West face at around 500 mph, I’m reckoning.

My plan now was to ride South on the path to Alameda again, but this time go West and up to the top of Dinosaur ridge, find the Hogback trail, make a loop of it and sort of, go home, but –

I exit Green Mountain and go over the Highway and what do I see? Surprise New Bike Trail (to me). Called, “Zorrow” Oooh.

So, up again I go, relearning lesson #1 and #2, as I attempt not to succumb to exhaustion as I  well out of shape gentleman bites at my heals.

To my delight, it takes me to the top of the Dakota Hogback and intersects the trail I wanted anyways. Perfect. At that intersection a very conditioned cyclist asks me about the conditions of Green Mountain. I have no idea what to tell him. The truth?: “HI! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME! I LOVE ALL TERRAIN BIKES! WILL YOU BE MY NEW BICYCLE FRIEND?! THE GOING UP IS HARD!” I lie. I tell them its perfect and like, “Shred hard”, or something. I think I actually said that.

Going South, I meet some terrain that’s over and above my limits. The High Line Canal trail was obviously just getting my feet wet, the Green Mountain Trail was a nice leveling-up from there, the Dakota Hogback, at this section is described in the book, Mountain Biking Colorado’s Front Range by author, Stephen Hlawaty as so:

The southern end of the Dakota Ridge Trail delivers some of the trickiest rocky sections found along the entire route. At mile 2.1 there’s a rock face imbedded in the ground. The line to the left requires deft technical skill, particularly as it cuts sharply to the right along the edge of a big drop-off. The center line is attractive but delivers a strong blow to your front tire, not to mention your ego.

I know this beforehand, as I’ve researched the route before I blithely attempted it, green as an apple, with a too-large bike.

The Dakota Hogback
On the Dakota Hogback. Mt. Morrison is in the background.

My attempts at riding the trail without perishing were commendable, but at the end a failure. Failure in the funnest sense, as anyone near me must have thought I was on Nitrous Gas. Having something that seems so familiar and common, the bicycle, in a new form and environment, create so many problems for me to simply go forward led to a childlike exaltation of delight. To be so bad at something felt so good. I was no longer training for an ultra endurance event. I was playing in the sandbox with my die cast model diggers.

A fleeting thought came to me that this must be pretty hard for most everyone. That thought was whisked away as I saw other riders tackle the terrain almost absent-minded. I shook my clenched fist at them. In jest, in jest.

Lesson #4 of mountain biking for me is that I will never, ever compete in a regular cross country event, because I will not be successful. I will fall. I will hurt someone else. I will have to come back to the Hogback and practice a bit more.

Leaving the Dakota Hogback, I traveled North on the Red Rocks trail to the trailhead at Matthews Winter Park, managing to get the bike completely filthy, enough to ruin the shifting capabilities. Lesson #5 is that mountain bikes are fragile and I am not capable of treating fragile things with respect. This being not bike, I made a mental note to do something about the mud that has now encompassed the machine.

Took a left onto HW-40 and the gas station for a little rest and reprieve. Sat outside drinking fluids, contemplating the F-350 parked alongside the place. Its grill was covered with chains, there was some sort of small animal pelt embedded in hood and a rear view mirror with a garter belt snuggly hugging it.

HW-40 seemed altogether now inviting, perhaps I’ll meet similar people at its top? I decide to climb the hill till South Lookout Mountain road in the failing sun and reach it as darkness enveloped the front range.

These means a dark descent down Lookout Mountain Road, which I was anxiously looking to do.

Getting into Golden without incident, it was time to eat again, so I found a sandwich shop that advertised the quickness they can make their sandwiches, rather than the quality of the finished product. I was sold and – I was indeed surprised at how fast they completed the task.

Getting late, out of daylight, lights failing, joints starting to ache and other details to make what I’m about to write seem more masculine, I decide to take a new route home. Rather than simply take 32nd back as I’ve done dozens of times, I decide to try and find the Clear Creek path. A recon mission, as I think it may be a good route to get to Golden in less than perfect conditions (snow!), so that I can train climbing Lookout Mountain over and over.

Couldn’t find the trail until miles east of where it was supposed to start, but found it, eventually. There’s a point where three bike paths converge, in a most confusing way. If it wasn’t for graffiti’d labels someone added, I would still be on the path system. Lucky for me, I found the one that led back to Pecos and 64th and from there, it was just couple of miles to –

A self-serve car wash! I brought a dollar bill with me, which was just enough to power-wash this poor All Terrain bicycle to its former cleanliness. Lesson #6 – always bring back borrowed items in the same or better condition in which you originally borrowed it.

The, “Trial By Fire” Ride

Total Miles: It must be around 75 miles – I really don’t have a clue
Elevation Gained: 2,000-something – who knows?
Ride time: 11 hard-earned hours.

A completely inaccurate path of my meanderings

Mini Slam in Boulder

Woke up today with little sleep, perhaps two hours. Unplanned sleep deprivation training. 5:00 am. Snooze for fifteen minutes then up and about. Planning on biking/hiking trip. Let’s go to Boulder, I thought and then hike around. Wonder if you can get from the small, Southern Peak, to the Small, Northern Peak? There must be a trail that allows me not to backtrack. I guess we’ll find out.

What to bring, what to bring. Too many things needed, guess I’ll bring an actual pack. My back already wincing with the idea of riding with that thing. They make bags that go onto bikes for a reason! It protests. Bringing along some hiking shoes, hiking sticks, camera, food… that’s… it, it seems. Somehow a hiking pack was still needed. Probably because of the camera. I’ll have to get one of those little ones that still takes great big pictures.

Ah, and clothing! 6:00am, when I’m leaving Denver, it’s freezing! And I’m expecting it to get above 50 degrees F. by mid day in Boulder. Cripes, that’s a lot of layers. Still, have to make sure to account for the various unpredictable weather of the Front Range. Be ready for both rain and snow. And well, perfect weather too, I guess.

Getting away shortly after 6:15 am, I get a half a mile away before remembering I forgot my helmet. And gaiters, but the hell with those. Turn back for the helmet, though. Every bike crash you get into, they always ask if you have that pesky thing on. Back at the house, trying to figure out where I left that thing.

Took the bike towards Boulder from Denver. Strolled around Stanely Lake to get a bit of, ahem, “Dirt Time” on the bike, even though the “trail” is nothing but a service road for the, “lake” – really a large reservoir with a dammed up North side.

Made it to the coffee shop right on the Table Mesa shopping center without incident at around 9:30 am. Three hours to get here? Slow bike and heavy pack, I tell myself. That and I should be saving my energy for the rest of this day. How long is it going to be? Don’t know! Even though I spent a few years living in Boulder, I never found it necessary to explore the myriad of trails nestled so close to town very closely. You can literally just walk up any of the major thoroughfares West and hit a trail head. A tragedy. In fact, I probably only ever climbed up Bear Peak a few times, before calling it good.

Bear Peak from the Parking Lot
Bear Peak from the café

I’m drinking my espresso and looking at that peak, right in front of me. Yup, I’ll climb that, and right before South Boulder Peak. That’s easy enough. Then, try to find a way to get to Green Mountain, a little to the North. With that done, I’ll just ride home, hopefully, before the sun sets. When’s that again?  Details, details.


A little coffee before we got out on a long hike.

A brisk ride up the hill towards NCAR, which conveniently has a place to lock my bike and a trail head outside the building. I redress for hiking and use the other convenience: the restroom and start the hike. Luckily for me, the trail head has a intensely detailed map of every single trail available. Unlucky for me, I can’t remember crap, being this tired. I try to make a plan on where to go and what to do. I even make a little video of the map and what to do when and where.

Useless. Within an hour, I’ve made a wrong turn and have to backtrack 15 minutes to my turnoff. The trails are well-signed, there’s just so many of them. Why, I wonder?

I take the Shadow Canyon trail up South Boulder Peak. I’ve only gone down this trail, but going up proves difficult. Steep little buddy of a trail. Slippery, too. The trail deserves it’s name and snow has found refuge on the trail. Luckily, I’ve brought what looks like a beefy rubber band concoction with springs attached to it. This attaches to my boots and is supposed to keep me from slipping. They’re akin to a baby brother of micro spikes, which themselves are a pathetic version of honest-to-goodness crampons. Mine look as if they’re marketed more to the Minnesotan house wife, to wear to and from their large sports utility vehicle, during the harsh winter months. Hope they do the job. I bought them initially to work on the Franz Joseph Glacier of New Zealand. We all had a tiny little laugh about that, in private.

Climbing up, I feel like an defeated old man and have to stop continuously to catch my breath. I tell myself, I should be in much better condition than this. I’m exhausted, but not fatigued. It’s the lack of sleep and I can feel myself fighting that off, as I go farther up. So strange to almost fall asleep, while exerted so much physical effort.

Reaching the top (these are quite tiny mountains), I eat a bagel w/cream cheese. By this time, I’ve stripped everything, except a pair of long underwear (top) and hiking shorts (bottom) – no underwear. I find a sloping rock, wrap my shell around my legs.and take a half hour nap, hoping that does the trick. I also hope that no one else comes up here and spoils my solace of sleep on top of the mountain. Good chance there won’t be. Pretty quiet on the trails, today. People probably working, or something.

Beak Peak and Green Mountain from South Boulder Peak
On South Boulder Peak, with Bear Peak and Green Mountain in the distance

Longs Peak in the Distance
Longs Peak looming in the distance. Wish I was on the summit of Longs in this perfect day.

At 2:30pm (I have no idea how it took four hours to get up here), I make it out to Bear Peak. Close enough, it only takes a half hour to summit. I dawdle for just a bit, take some stupid photos (and one or two good ones) and descend on the west side of the mountain for what I was looking for, Bear Peak West Ridge, which should deliver me to Green Mountain, with a small trail crossing, which I’ve already proved well enough I can, hopefully, figure out.

Auto Portrail on Bear Peak
Autoportrait on top of Bear Peak

I take the time into small consideration. Being ~3:00pm, even if I descend now to the trail head, I’d get back to the bike before sunset, but still would have to ride home. These trails are sincerely urban, though. The trail head itself is maybe two miles to the bus stop that has service all the way to Denver. I guess that’s a plus for sticking so close to population. Feel a pain to take the bus, having a well-tuned and perfectly good bike at my disposal. We’ll see how the engine is fairing in a little while.

A few hours later – bang! Green Mountain summited, now to get back to the trail head. But I guess, how? One way would just go back the way I came, until the Fern Canyon trail, but that would mean backtracking and that’s the no-no of this hike, so I guess I’ll take the route the goes *around* all of the Flatirons. That’s… the only other option, really.

Bear Peak and South Boulder Peak, amist the trees of Green Mountain
Bear Peak and South Boulder from Green Mountain, amidst some trees.

That also puts me at another squeeze, since that route goes West, then North, until it exits the area, I need to go South back to my bike at the trail head. OK, the sun is now definitely starting to set. Let’s do it.

The trail down is surprisingly snowy. Not just patches of snow: snow everywhere. North facing. I slip continuously. Much fun, so long as the trail isn’t too precipitous. Meet up and pass a few rich teenagers who aren’t having half the trouble I’m having with far less gear. I’m not 30 yet. Damn them.

Get to the trailhead… some sort of trail head as the sun sets. Off of Flagstaff Road. That means, I’m not home yet. Find a lot of silly little trails that take me to the main, Mesa trail, which leads back to the NCAR trailhead. Flick on the head torch to find my way back to the bike. Somewhere on the trail, a flash! of light takes me off guard, as if someone just took my picture. I think I tripped a motion sensor camera, used for tracking activity of wildlife. Just my ugly mug, gentle scientists, sorry about that. 

I am now exhausted, but decide to ride back home. Besides, that was the plan, as always. The clock in the office of the pretty girl next to the bike rack says it’s 7:00 pm. Seriously, I’ve been out here for almost 9 hours? Well, I wouldn’t have guessed it was going to take this long to traverse three tiny little mountains. Must be a slow hiker, today.

Night riding back to Denver is mostly uneventful, except for getting lost after passing by Stanely Lake again. Found myself on a major road: Churchranch Blvd. directly in the throes of the awful suburban sprawl that is Westminster, a terribly ugly town without much to offer, except strip malls and fast food joints.

Took a right onto Sheridan, which is usually a road of DEATH for the noble cyclist, but it’s the only landmark I know well enough, and by 76th street (only 4 miles away!), I know the route well enough again. At around this point, I completely run out of gas. My legs do not move the pedals like I would like them to do, except if I am in the lowest gear of the bike.

This is not good.

My best strategy in this scenario is to simply, “pretend” I can pedal much fast than I can and trick my body in doing what I want it to. After a pit stop at the local Wendy’s (shutter),  It seems to work.

I land at my front door at 9:30 pm with an aplomb. I bask on the living room floor for a while, until I realize it would be much better to bask in a hot bath instead.

Good work, Justin, you’ve readily exhausted yourself.

The Denver to Boulder to Denver Three Mountain Traverse Mini Slam
Miles Ridden: ~60? –  7 hours total (heavy pack!)
Miles Hiked: (10 – 15?) No firm idea – 9 bloody hours of it, though!

Week of February 5th – February 12th “Training” Log

This week I did nothing that really fits into a report. Basically, I
took the week off – I felt achy and tired and I’ve been killing it. Time
for a break. I’m extremely excited at how well the first “month” of
“training” went – I feel in good form and happy that there’s 5 months
more to go to get into better form.

Not to say I hadn’t been
riding – Monday found me in 6+inches of newly fallen snow, attempting to
make the best of it in adverse riding conditions. But, like most of the
week, it was only errands, even if the errands added up to >30

The rest of the week was similar, culminating in
today’s little ride out to Arvada w/trailer to find supplies for my next
performance piece, which will be in a week.

Next week, I MAY
take a huge ride on Tues. to Boulder, try to summit three (small) peaks
and then head home, but I don’t know if I’ll really have time for such
things – the thing for Sat. will probably have me busy attempting to
figure out all the art stuff.

Saturday already has me
double-booked, as I have the art performance for hours, with my only
break being marching band duties. My cymbals on Thur. gig were around
5lbs each, no joke.

Red Rocks in the Snow!

Sunday: Rode to Red Rocks and back. Looked like this:

Red Rocks Feb 6th, 2011

It has snowed the last couple of days, so my route consisted of bike paths that were:

* well shoveled,
* barely shoveled
* not shoveled *at all*, where forward motion was very slow

roads that were somewhat sketch and filled with snow, dirt and slush.
This combination has a tendency to freeze to a bike frame and wheels,
making your bike weigh much more than usual.

Upon getting to Red
Rocks Park proper, it began to snow and making it up the steep road to
the amphitheater was proving tricky. Luckily, I also brought my hiking
shoes, micro-spikey-things and suited up for mountaineering and was able
to get up, no problem.

Left at around 9:30 am, got home around 4:00 pm

Today, I am very, very sore from the effort.

“Training” Thoughts

I’ve been “training” for the Tour Divide Race for about a month now. I
wasn’t really slouching in my physical condition, but the year started
out slow with my knee injury, ending in very successful physical therapy
and a wonderful summer spent in Colorado riding bikes and discovering
the fun of doing all the walk up hikes up 14ers. I would say some of
those trips, like:

  • Riding Denver to  Leadville, hiking Mt. Massive and then
    riding back (3 days),
  • Riding to Longs Peak, *attempting* to summit on
    October, riding back (3 days)
  • Doing the same for Pike’s Peak (26
    miles of hiking, 200 miles of riding – much on country roads)
  • Plus the
    week of peak bagging and going up and down 13,000 foot Argentine Pass
    with a touring bike

is a little more than poking around Denver environs.
I feel mostly like I’m in the condition I was, before I did the Pacific
Coast or France, which is great – since I know have 5 months to hone
in on just getting distance done.

From my knowledge of doing
those longish tours, the condition I’m in afterward is mixed: you get
the feeling that you can, literally, ride a bike, all day (and you can),
but I’m also in the throes of some sort of cold that doesn’t shake for a
month (at least), feel weak and generally don’t do much, until my body

That leads me to believe that I’m really and truly on
the right path to getting ready doing 100-150 miles a day for 3-4 weeks,
but mileage should be added slowly, or I’ll hit my actual peak much too
soon and will feel less than up to it, come June. If I really crank out
mileage in the next month or two, I’ll be at peak in March and that’s
too soon.


Wednesday: 2 hours on rollers.

I managed to crack the frame on my Surly Steamroller again. Same place as before, when John was kind enough to weld it back together. The weld held for years of me
abusing the frame. I have no money for a
comparable frame, especially since I want to buy an MTB to end all
MTB’s, so we’ll just have to see what happens and troll CL.

Up at 6:30am, was going to ride the Steamroller, but found the crack,
so rode my touring rig in the snow-ish environment. It had snowed the
day before. Here’s something funny:

Denver doesn’t seem to be
plowing anything other than major streets (and even then it’s iffy) BUT,
it does plow the bike paths. TAKE THAT, PORTLANDIA!

Road just
to Cherry Creek Res., turned around, did the loop again and back home.
Took ~ three hours, a little more than my 1hr 40-something time trial.

THEN, went to the gym and:

Row-Machined: 20 min,
attempting to do 5,000 meters in 20 min. Got a stitch in my side and my
bike shoes weren’t the best interface to the foot rests, so that was a
no go. I had eaten at the halfway point of my ride, knowing I was going
to go to the gym and I didn’t want to collapse. Aw, well.

it sort of easy at the gym after that – I didn’t know the usuals on
Friday, and they seemed *strange* to me, I like my usuals on Wednesday,
since I know them all, at least by sight. So, I did a pretty normal

Squats: Started with 95lbs. Yes. And did sets of 10,
adding 10lbs per set, until I couldn’t do a set of 10 in perfect form. I
think I got up to 135 pounds. Not much, but after, you know, 3 1/2
hours of using my legs to propel myself, that’s fine.

same idea: Started with 135lbs and did a set of 10, and went up, 20lbs
per set, up to 195lbs, far below my 1rep, but working on endurance,
that’s the type I want to do. My form feels great and my core feels
really really stronger…er than it has.

5-ish sets of 8 dips
5-ish sets of 5 pullups

1 wall sit for a minute (felt pretty spent)
1 plank for a minute
2 side planks for 30 seconds
3 x 15 leg raises

and rode home.

did cramped up around 11:30pm last night, so walked a mile or so to the
movie theatre and gorged myself on popcorn while watching Hedwhig and
then road slowly home.

Pretty tired today, so I’m takin’ it easy – gonna try to squeeze some sort of ride in tomorrow.

Training Log 1/31/11

Friday: I think I did 2 hours on the trainer. I don’t think I even made it outside. At all. That day.

Saturday: Rest! Because:

Snowshoed from sun up to sun down – 9 1/2 hours in total.

We started at
Echo Lake on the Mt. Evans Massif and hiked the Chicago Lakes trail.



Got lost, summited some unknown little thing and cut trail to lower
Chicago Lake, which is not easy in hip-deep snow and steep faces. SO
MUCH FUN. We tried to get to Upper Chicago Lake, but the route we
thought we could take was also hip-deep and steep. The willow trees
dotting the route worked well in keeping the snow from blowing away.

then, we attempted to get back. We circled the lake and then attempted
to find the actual trail. Didn’t happen. So we again cut trail, or
attempted to. After around a half hour of moving a few hundred feet, I
asked N. for a contingency plan, if we do, in fact, get stuck at 11,000+
feet past… midnight.

Lower Chicago Lake Ice - 1/31/11

Lower Chicago Lake Ice

We decided to attempt to find the route
we originally took and headed back up whatever mount we had descended
from. We lucked out – really and truly and found a trampled down trail,
which lead us all the way to the trail head. That day wiped me out as so
few days can.

And that’s how I’m getting ready to hike up
snow-laden passed in Canada, in June, with a mountain bike weighing 35+
lbs, laden with all my gear for 3 weeks: expose myself to situations
much more difficult than what I’ll find on the actual course!

Monday: Other than errands, I’m just hanging loose. Still wiped (in a good way) from snow shoeing.

mountaineering boots! The big, heavy, plastic ones. They can do Mt.
Rainier. They could probably do Denali. Meaning: they’re completely
ridiculous. Don’t even have crampons!

Training Log 1/27/11

Wed: Rest. Yeah, rest!

Gym, weigh in @ 183lbs.

Ran to the gym a full minute faster (20 min) than last time.

Rowing for 5,000 meters – around 20…3? minutes?
5 sets of 20 seconds of pushups, then 30 seconds jump rope, no rest between sets.
5 sets of 20 seconds of Wall ball, 10 second rest
three times around the tiny basketball court (with rest in between) of walking lunges holding 10lbs in each hand.
5 sets of 10 deadlifts at a paltry 135lbs w/5 sets of kipping pullups interspersed
3, 1 minute planks. You just hang out in that position.

then, I ran home – but went around City Park, before heading back. That
took ~ 50 minutes. Never have a run so much in one day – as pathetic as
it sounds.

Training Log 1/25/11

1/24/11: Rest

: I thought it’d be fun to see how fast I could
go from REI, around Cherry Creek and back, time trial mode. My road bike
is out of commission with a broken shifter and my touring bike is too
slow to really make this any fun, so I just used my brakeless fixed

I wasn’t expecting much, especially with the long ride on
Sunday, but maybe I could get a baseline to work with and see if I’m
progressing at speed, or whatever. It’s a relatively flat route, but
there are some tiny hills, that will sap my time.

Managed to do it in 1hr 42min – cripes! From where I started, it’s around 33.4 miles (so says Google Maps),
which gives me a average speed of 19.6 mph. Heh, that included a small
pee break, someone attempting to race me  on the trail and me
throwing up, just slightly

Training Log 1/23/11

Did a nice 100+ mile bike ride, down the cherry creek bike path, West on
E-470 trail to Deer Creek Canyon, up High Grade Road and to HW 73
through Evergreen and then took the turn to Morrison and back home via
Jewel until it hits up the Platte River bike path and then home.
Basically, my ride from last Sunday, with Highgrade added in there.
Perhaps next week, I’ll get up 1 1/2 earlier and add yet another spoke
to it, until I’m all the way around in Brighton, before heading back.

copious stops for food, it took 8 1/2 hours, probably because of the
hard climb (well, I think it’s hard) up and because my touring bike is