My Yearly Pilgrimage to the High Mountains.

You may remember a short, heart-felt, and incredibly well written post I wrote about one of my bicycles. In it I chronicled its journey to continue its tireless service as a trusted Rosenholtz war-horse under my (HUJJE) little brother, Josh. Last week, I made my now yearly trip out to Colorado under the guise that I would log tremendous miles up long, torturous mountains... some of them along side a wobbly, newborn-deerlike BRO on his hand-me-down racer. While that absolutely happened, it is far more accurate to say that I spent a majority of my time pretending I was in college again, and partaking in activities that would make my coach fuming angry (sorry coach).

It began, as these stories usually do, with a fun set of circumstances. Having been hit by a car the preceding Wednesday, and winning a bicycle race earlier in the day, I packed late into the night, then boarded a plane not three hours after I had finally fallen asleep. That, and the loss of two desperately needed hours were the makings of a VERY long day.

Josh is a DJ. You can see him here, Dj-ing (click on the photo to listen with your ear machines). He had a show the night I flew in. If you are doing the math in your head, you will come to the realization, as I did, that there was a very real possibility that I will be awake for longer than humans should be. Something like 90 hours. Give or take.

The long and the short of it is this: Josh, and his partner in crime, Josh (I know), killed their set, and transitioned, seamlessly, into a night of full blown debauchery, which included the absolutely warranted theft of the headlining act's beer, a brief 1 mile (drunken) sprint home (I hate running, let alone that kind of running), and many other unmentionable adventures.

Thank god for recovery days.

The following day, I went on my first real ride with he, and his compatriots. There is a somewhat strange, entirely great, bunch of friends (read: bros) of his that have, somehow, found their way into cycling. I attribute Josh's new found interest in the sport almost entirely to them, and very little to do with the fact that his older brother spends most of his time slouched over a bike.    

But I'm not jealous. Whatever.  *sniff.*

  I've been excited to ride with them, and him, for a while now. I felt a little like I was some sort of celebrity; talked about and idolized for his (100% incorrect) blinding speed, and natural ability. I met one of the "team members" (stay tuned for more on that), and was greeted with: "OH SHIT! You're Josh's brother!?" My head grew three sizes that day. I had a great time, despite the hangover and increasing sleep debt.

The next few days were a bit of business as usual. Back to training, intervals, and proper fuel and recovery, albeit with one small exception:

Altitude is hard.

I would manage efforts as well as I could, but it took 4-5 times longer for me to recover from any effort (that's a bit of foreshadowing). Still. I felt like every time I pushed myself in to eye crossing oxygen debt, I was digging out more "fast" than I would be at home. It doesn't mean I liked it.

Later in the week I was forced to make some choices, which were difficult for about a split second. It was either stick to the game plan, and do a regimented 4 hour day of climbing intervals, or go for a bike ride with my Bro and his BROS.

In the end, it was not a hard choice. 

This photo was taken on the way up to the famous red rocks amphitheater. I'm going to say this with full knowledge of how wildly immodest it sounds, but I think it's true: I think I was sort-of able to document an important day here. A day I've had a few times. A day, I'm sure we've all had. Josh did a BIG ride. He climbed higher and farther than he'd ever climbed. He pushed through a barrier that many of us have long since left behind. One that I had totally forgotten about. That big first day where you go: Wow, I just did that. That day you push the goal-line further back. The ride that becomes the yardstick by which you compare every ride you will ever do... until you do a bigger one.

Ask me if I regret not doing intervals on Wednesday. 

Lookout.

The rest of the week was pretty similar. My singular focus during the day, sort-of became his too: "When are we gonna ride?" I took him up Lookout Mountain. We went out to Morrison, and narrowly avoided being eaten by a tornado.  

Chatfield.

Josh has always been a little better at going with the flow than I am. When it comes to structure, especially training, I tend to hyper focus, and lose sight of what is better for me as a human rather than just a bike racer. With that in mind, this year's journey to Colorado might not have been as "Epic" as I thought it would be... but it was certainly more epic in a better, truer sense of the word.