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the appetite for destruction ride.

Over the weekend we set off to do the traditional out and back, 'Pint Ride’. Boulder to the Hideaway Brewery in Winter Park and back to Boulder via Rollins Pass. There’s one rule of the Ride, you must drink a pint of beer at the brewery. If you know me, you know I have trouble drinking just one and usually feel pretty good going back up Corona Rd.

This time we through in a twist. Due to all of the ‘road’ sections, we decided to mount up our cross bikes with 38mm tires, instead of the battle tested mountain bikes. Talk about bringing a knife to a nuclear war. With our brains rattled and hands numb, we looked at each other and said “F-that”, upon rolling into Winter Park. Sticking to the smoother roads was now the plan for the return trip home. After a convenience store refuel, a little change of direction and a quick jam with old Panama Red we were on our way up Berthoud Pass - and 'The Appetite for Destruction Ride' was born.

I’m sad to report that no beers were consumed during this ride and that I thought about calling an UBER at one point.

There is a certain mystery to all day rides for me. The adventure, the unknown, the unexpected keep me eagerly peering around each turn, over each hill and across every river. The morning of a big adventure I'm always a bit unsettled, unsure. As the day goes on confidence builds, or confidence gets shattered. Your fate is unknown until you take that first step, that first pedal stroke. You jump in with both feet.

Early on, lots of thoughts run through your head, from the most random shit, to the last song you heard, to reminding yourself eat and drink. Then it stops. It's almost meditative. You reach that point where you are so present, so focused, that there is no room for additional thoughts or even cares. Those thoughts distract from the task at hand. A task that requires everything you've got. It's the moment, or hours, the flow. It's a movement of efficiency.

The all day slog is special.

Jah Kief with his knife.

Just a turd in the wind.

Some ambitious skiers were on that patch.

Stats and stats and numbers and numbers. All quantitative data. I am a conqueror of nothing!

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