Tag: Spring break

Mountains win again

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I recently had an adventure in the mountains, a challenge of sorts that I wanted to share with you.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”  “When am I going to be here again?”  “I’m not getting any younger”  these are the things I was telling myself as I made the slogging climb up Pikes Peak on my bike.

The whole thing was thrown together rather haphazardly. A few days before the trip, I realized how close my layover hotel was to the mountain.

Spring break, cousins, and Orlando City, a new yearly tradition

I started looking at routes, bike rentals and weather forecasts,  and realized that,maybe, it was doable.

Not necessarily that I could do it, mind you,  just that it could be done. All the parts could come together for a pretty epic bike ride from downtown Colorado Springs up to the summit of Pikes Peak.

It was going to be a beautiful day in the mountains. Highs in the upper 60s or low 70s in town.  Sunny and mostly clear skies. Light winds and temps above freezing at the 14,100′ summit.

I wasn’t exactly sure how to plan for that.  I ordered a pair of fleece lined full leg bike bibs and a fleece lined cycling jacket that would arrive just before I left for the trip.

Making the turn to Pike Peak Highway

I knew I would be hot, and as the title suggests, very sweaty on the way up the mountain.  But I was nervous about steep descents on slippery roads in temperatures much colder than I’m used to riding in, so fleece lined options won the day.

I got to the bike shop before they opened and was able to get a little bit of an early start thanks to some helpful fellow cyclists.

Winding out of Colorado Springs and through Manitou Springs, the road started to pitch up almost immediately. Not urgently but consistently and noticeably. With the base of the mountain at 5,900′ above sea level even these small changes in pitch got your attention.

The climb started in earnest with an ever so slight turn onto the pikes peak highway. A not unsubstantial climb from the turn before you even reach the toll gate.

No bigfoot sightings on this ride

At the gate, I paid the fare just like a car would, with a strange sense of equality mixed with superiority. It’s nice to be treated the same as a car on the road, despite knowing we have two very different paths ahead of us.

The toll collector told me the top 3 miles of the road were closed due to snow melt that refroze overnight. Simultaneously disappointing and comforting news as I was already sweaty and winded with a lot of climbing left in front of me.

This may have been one of the friendliest roads I’ve ever ridden on.  Every car, regardless of direction, gave a wide berth and were quick to offer cheers and moral support. Many wanted to chat, or perhaps question my sanity, though my responses were often short while fighting for more oxygen in the thinning air.

Blue skies and hairpin turns

I stopped frequently. I stopped when I wanted to. I stopped when I needed to. I stopped when the views took my breath away. I stopped when the slope and elevation took my breath away. When I needed to eat or to take a picture, there was no lack of stops on the way up.

At some point, a plow truck pulled up beside me to chat. Fighting for air, struggling to keep my cadance and the front wheel attatched to the steep slopes, he told me the summit had been reopened. “Good news or bad news?” He asked, maybe reading my reaction and body language. A bit of both I suppose.

I stopped once more at the Glen Cove Inn at 11, 450′ it would be the last easy pull of spot before the summit. Already feeling winded and unsure of the outcome I lingered and tried to recover as much as I could.

My stops were becoming more frequent, but the real estate for those stops was becoming scarce as I continued my ascent. Restarting presented its own challenge, clipping in on the steep slopes with no momentum and traffic potentially hurtling down the mountain and around hairpin corners unseen at any time.

Eventually, my legs, but more so my lungs and my heart made the decision inevitable. The mountain would win this day.

The risk calculus just wasnt adding up in my favor any more. Pushing myself into exhaustion in three to 5 minute bursts for ever shrinking distances didnt seem like a good idea. The shrinking shoulder of the road and the sheer cliffs loomed as I felt my will to continue slip away.

I took my jacket out of my pack and zipped the sleeves tight. I took one last picture. It was beautiful. Despite my failure, it was a pretty epic climb and a reluctant smile crept across my face. Type II fun was in the bag, now it was time for some type I fun.

I reminded myself that while this was the fun part, it was also the part with highest risk of catastrophe. Decending down a mountain on your bike can take your breath away in more ways than one.

I decided for the first and steepest part of the descent to keep my fingerless cycling gloves, rather than my windproof running gloves. I didn’t want any doubts about my grip or my ability to use the brake levers.

This came at the expense of very chilly fingers. Plunging down the mountain, braking against the building speed into the hairpin corners, as I zipped through the frigid apline air.

I stopped again at the visitor center rougly halfway down my descent and switched gloves. Even if there was decreased grip, it was the better alternative to frozen fingers.

I continued my snaking downhill ride back through town and dropped the bike at the bike shop before walking back to my hotel.

It had been a great day. Maybe not the ride I wanted, or the outcome I wanted, but a great day none the less.

I wrote a while back about a concept called misogi. A quest or an adventure that tests your limits. The challenge should be set hard enough that the odds of success are a coin flip.

Nobody wants to fail. Setting out knowing there is a good chance you won’t reach your goal is daunting. But it is also inspiring.

Failing to reach the summit was inspiring. I can’t  wait to go back and try again. Finding out where your limits are is rarely a fun experience. In this case, being able to look out over the mountainside to the town below showed a tangible reflection of how far I had come. How high I went, even reaching my limit that day. The summit ahead, unreached, served as a reminder that the limit can still be pushed farther.

Some cool findings on my way back into town

While thinking back on my time in the saddle up Pikes Peak, the Blues Travelers song popped into my head

“I pick up my smile, and put it my pocket. Hold it for a while, try not to have to drop it. Ooh can you feel the same? Ooh you gotta love that pain, ooh it looks like rain again. Ooh feel it comin in, the mountains win again.”

I hope I get another chance to climb that mountain and reach the summit. I am grateful for the experience and the lessons the mountain has already given me, even if it won this round.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe, and stay sweaty my friends.

Loss

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This past weekend I competed in the Pan American Jiu Jitsu championships, and I wanted to share my results and my experience.

One of my favorite TV shows in college was scrubs. This was in a TV era where dvr technology had just emerged but I couldn’t afford it at the time.

New episodes of your favorite show aired at a certain time, on a certain day. If you weren’t able to watch it you had to wait till the episode reran. Or, maybe you were lucky enough to have a friend with a dvr and could watch it at their house.

This also gave rise to the spoiler, and the spoiler alert. Someone who watched the newest episode would inevitably want to discuss it with you, knowing that you were also a fan, but unaware that you hadn’t seen it yet.

My roommates and I watched a lot of scrubs. The show was humorous and heartwarming. I was never really concerned about spoilers. (Lost was another story)

Most of the show was narrated in the voice of JD, John Dorian. The main character played by Zach Braff who works his way as a doctor through the Sacred Heart Hospital and grows up along the way.

There are a few episodes which are narrated by his tough love mentor figure, Dr Cox. These episodes occur after Dr Cox’s botched vasectomy where he is having overly philosophical conversations with his infant son Jack, swinging in a baby rock n play. (Way more back story than you needed, but that was more for my trip down memory lane than anything else)

That image of a grown man, established and respected in his profession, bearing his soul to an unresponsive drooling baby swinging back and forth, is one I think about often with this blog.

It is a very one sided conversation, a monologue with a captive audience that is unable to respond.

It is also a beautiful moment of vulnerability and sensitivity for an otherwise rough and gruff character. Dr Cox bearing his soul to a child who likely won’t remember any of what is said.

A lot of this blog is directly or indirectly for my boys. That they might look back in time at the man their father was before they were able to understand such adult intricacies. I found myself in one of those conversations yesterday with El Duderino.

My wife had taken the boys to a birthday party while I went to the Jiu Jitsu tournament. I was able to join them after a rather unceremonious first round loss. By the time I got there El Duderino was in a full meltdown.

My wife scooped him up and took him home. I stayed with Speedy for another hour or so, letting him play while I caught up with friends.

We had a very nice rest of the evening as a family, bit when it came time for bed El Duderino was still struggling. There were lots of things I could have said to him. Things I know have worked in the past to calm him down. But I found myself giving one of those Dr Cox like monologues to a somewhat captive audience instead. (El Duderino had crawled into his trundle bed mattress while it was still tucked under his twin bed, I layed at the lengthwise exit so he was very much a captive audience)

I told him he seemed sad and upset. I told him I felt sad, and upset, and disappointed. I told him I had competed that afternoon and lost. I told him I fell short of my goals and expectations. I told him that good things can be born from disappointment.

I tried to boil my feelings down to a five year old, hiding under the bed, level. To put my disappointment, frustration, and anger into a positive light for El Duderino to see. To show him the soil that can be tilled for growth out of loss.

I don’t know if the lesson sank in. I may never know. I don’t think I was as gracious in loss as I ought to have been in the moment. Losing 0-0 by advantage is a tough pill to swallow. But there was a unique catharsis in sharing the emotions of my loss with my young son. I had never experienced that before.

I don’t like to lose. I am very fortunate to still be somewhat unaccustomed to it, after essentially thirty years of grappling. Still, I recognize the lessons to be learned. Even more so now that I am a father. I hadn’t competed in a Jiu Jitsu tournament in three years, and I hadn’t lost a competition match since having kids. It only felt right to share that with them, and I hope they can learn as much from it as I did.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.