Testosterone Intoxication in Steamboat Springs

After breakfast The Race Within The Race heads out for a local-favorite 50 mile route outside Steamboat. Various other cyclists join up with them and Erik, who has been doing all the driving so far, gets a chance to ride. Todd goes for the day's Option C - which includes anything other than sitting on a bike. He meets up with an old friend from Breckenridge, Jeff Powell, while John and I tool around town and the nearby roads. While staking out a spot to watch the race from a few miles from town, we run into a convoy of Cadillac SUV official race vehicles checking out the road conditions. It turns out to be the race director, who we introduce ourselves to and chat with for a few minutes congratulating him on a job well done - super nice guy, btw, and he's outrageously excited by the abundance of welcoming fans at the inaugural event.

We also met another volunteer race marshall named Sue Lee, from Florida, in town with a friend who's experiencing the the beauty of divorce (may it be one of the best things that's ever happened to her). We had a blast chatting about men, life, bikes (she just bought a new Trek Madone), and Lizard Head Cycling. We decided that we're both moving to Colorado and will be in touch at some future date.

My new friend, Sue Lee, from Florida. Until we meet again.

John and I watch the race from a neat little spot near the river with some curves, a railroad track, a bridge, a flag, and not a ton of people (John saw us on the night's race footage, but I'll have to take his word for it - I never found me).

New friends, toobin' down the Yampa while we waited for the riders to come through. They thought I was a photographer for ESPN and I didn't have the heart to correct them.

Coming into Steamboat Levi has a nice spot behind the stage leaders.

All the support cars, zipping along right behind their riders.

After the riders go by we head back to the hotel alongside the BMC team doing their cooldown and watch the procession of cyclists heading towards the hotel immediately after the finish. We ride up the elevators with countless cyclists and team members. One guy is carrying a large crate of energy and protein bars and I ask 'Hmm. So, that's what makes them so fast?'. 'Non', he replies, in some accent that I choose to believe was Italian, and firmly smacks the side of his leg saying 'Is deese'. I laugh and he smiles and hands John and I one of the bars out of the crate. When we get to our rooms we see that we're sharing our hallway with the Bissell race team, who are presently figuring out the night's schedule. 'He doesn't want her right now, do you want her now or at 7?' (one's imagination could wander, but I'm pretty sure he was referring to the team masseuse).  I hear as one of the doors across the hall open, look up, and spy a nicely built (aren't they all?) cyclist wearing shorts and not much else looking at me sleepily as I fumble my keycard. If there were such a thing as a testosterone meter, it would be reading well off the charts at this point.

The sun setting at Steamboat on our way back to the hotel after the finish. The Jelly Belly bus is in a lot with a bunch of other team buses.

One of the Radio Shack buses at the hotel.

I meet John in the lobby and we pedal over to his cousin's house (who just happens to live in Steamboat, and just happens to be the ex-mayor), with me riding like there's a jet engine on my back wheel (testosterone clearly has its advantages, and apparently is readily communicated through the air). John and I heard stories galore from the ex-mayor, none of which will be repeated here. We also learned that the haybale structure in the shape of a steamboat (which appeared on TV) was actually their doing. Elise (the news reporter, who was, of course, still following the race) would end up picking up some pictures of their creation to see if she could put it into a story. She was busy working on another piece for Radio France International, including an interview with a "big name" cyclist - check out her story here to find out who it was: Pro Cyclists Battle it out in new US Bike Race

John's cousin, the ex-mayor's, hay bale steamboat.

We met up with the rest of the Lizard Head Race Team at a patio restaurant on the Yampa river, at the base of an Olympic Ski Jumping training facility. Most of the gang heads back to the hotel after dinner but a few of us hang out a bit longer and as luck would have it, have front row spots for the fireworks being set off from the training facility across the river. It was a short display, but none-the-less an unexpected little treat to end the day. 

Sada and Todd, who had gone back to the hotel, lucked upon Tommy Danielson (cyclist for Garmin-Cervelo) in the lobby. Sada humbly asked for a picture and Tommy is uber-gracious, gets up and not only poses for the picture, but also chats with them for a while. Interestingly, this is the only picture Sada took the entire trip, and he says, the only one he needed.

Sada and Tommy Danielson

John Martin made quick friends with a blonde from one of the other cycling teams in the bar (shocking), while Todd overheard some of the Garmin-Cervelo crew talking about how the Schleck brothers are not working too hard in this event as cyclists only have so much in their tanks per year for the big races and this is their time to be on vacation. They just can't go all out on every race, but they do have to be there to fulfill their Trek sponsorship. Oh, the things that happen in hotel bars.
  
The Lizard didn't make TV footage today, but was sighted on a large round hay bale waving the Colorado flag as the peleton flew by. Witnesses say watching the Lizard getting to the top of the hay bale was both treacherous and comical. Other reports say he was later spotted near a great little swimming hole, sunning himself on a rock after a hard day's work.

Tomorrow we ride through Rocky Mountain National Park, the closing stage of The Race Within The Race, and our final day of riding on this tour.

Video - the group rides the Colorado River Valley

A no-drop ride through Glennwood Canyon

We get up and eat breakfast at the hotel in Aspen with the Liquigas cycling team (meaning, they were across the restaurant at their own tables, but we could still see them). They all looked like they were just relaxing and enjoying some peace (unlike any they probably ever find anywhere else) so none of us wanted to disturb them. Sada does run into Basso in the lobby, and I get a lovely 'Giorno!' from an unidentified, though non-the-less impressive, cyclist that I say 'Good Morning' to as we passed each other on the sidewalk. They were everywhere, and every single one of them looked exactly as you'd expect them to: lean and with the most incredible lower bodies you've ever seen. Reluctantly, we hop in the van and head out of Aspen towards Glennwood Canyon. On the way, we pass the Aspen airport, simply littered with a couple hundred shiny private jets.

At Glennwood Canyon we hop out and do a little quick maintenance on the bikes, before heading along the river on our way to Steamboat Springs. The scenery by the headwaters of the Colorado river was amazing. Along the way Sada and Humphries give me countless tips, including how to navigate downhills at 40mph an inch from someone's back wheel (and continue to hang on through the flats and uphills), and how to relax on an uphill.

Lizard Head gives our bikes a little mid-tour TLC (no, it doesn't prevent my chain tattoos - shuttup).

One of way too many gorgeous views on the canyon ride.

And another ...

And another. Lunch magically appeared just around this curve to the right.

Todd is unusually quiet on the bike all day today, and eventually confesses that every time he sat down he felt like there were 20 needles being stabbed into his sit bones - our first real injury of the trip. We make it to the lunch spot - another incredible location, next to the Colorado River within the canyon walls - and hang out for a bit before heading on to Steamboat Springs. 

Todd, not sitting on his bike.

Erik picks another spectacular lunch spot.

When we get to the hotel at Steamboat, Todd dematerializes into the hotel to see about a late-day massage for his aching buttocks. God smiled upon him and got him in for a massage in 20 minutes. Since there were openings, John, Sada and I also get massages before dinner. Sue and Monica at the Rocky Mountain Day Spa did wonders for all of us - and I got even more valuable insider scoop on Colorado and the folks that live there. Stop by the Sheraton and check them out if you're ever in Steamboat Springs.

We also get to know the concierge, who, while storing our bikes, let's the cat out of the bag that ALL 17 Pro Cycling teams will be staying in the hotel with us the following night.

We have dinner and enjoy rousing conversation about all the various methods Todd, who is still eerily quiet, could try to quickly heal his undercarriage (none of which are fit for print). We also go over tomorrow's stage: A loop around Steamboat for the RWTR, just tooling around town, or staying completely off the bike for those still experiencing unfriendliness in their gluteal region. We watch the day's coverage in the lobby, which was exciting, but not nearly as riveting without the Lizard.

The Queen Stage

We left for the day at 545am. The Race Within The Race started from the hotel in Crested Butte while the rest of us bumped up to various spots to try to meet the impossible logistics of the day. John and I get to the start of the 14mile dirt road up to Cottonwood Pass first. It sounds like it would be tough to ride on, but it really wasn't. It was rough, and you did have to watch for ruts, but it really was simply a unique and spectacularly fun climb. John and I got waylayed by a cowgirl and her dog driving a herd of cows. In case you ever need to know, cows don't attack cyclists in any way shape or form and they don't appear to arbitrarily bust out into a stampede (to be safe, I wouldn't carry a coffee grinder - bonus points if you know what movie that was from), they just meander on their way, looking at you out of the corner of their giant eyes.

John and the herd. Can you imagine the peleton blasting up Cottonwood and running into this?

We continued on up Cottonwood, making countless friends along the way. The views were, as you might have guessed, just as spectacular as everything else so far.

On the way up to Cottonwood Pass. The tan colored splotch in the middle of the picture is the road we just came up.

John, coming up Cottonwood.

One of the remarkable views on the way up the mountain. Similar views in every direction you looked.

Near the top there are serious fans camped out (they must've been there a while - the road had been closed to vehicle traffic for 2 days to keep it in good condition), and I run into a lively lot who gave me lots of cowbell, and a nice push as they ran beside me laughing as hysterically as I was (there may have been alcohol involved for some parties, and it wasn't in my water bottles). We also get passed by Sada and Humphries, still talking smack as they undoubtedly were the entire way. Humphries wins King of the Mountain by some amount of time (reports vary, depending on who you ask). Sada, not seeing how far ahead Humphries was, doesn't stop at the top and blasts on down in furious pursuit (for the record, he'd continue this pursuit for another 70miles, not knowing that Humphries had stopped at the top of Cottonwood to hang out and consider waiting up there for the Pros to pass as they're MUCH closer now than last nite's faulty math predicted).

King of the Mountain. Sada is chasing Humphries' ghost down the other side of Cottonwood right about now.

At the top. Behind us to the right is the road we came up.

The gang at the top, with such lovely clouds.

We piddle around at the top of Cottonwood just long enough for a really ugly storm to brew (clever planning, if I do say so myself). Right about the same time, we all start noticing the sky darkening and the temps dropping drastically. We hurry to put on all the clothes we stripped off on the way up, and head down the mountain. I bust out first, knowing I'll be the slowest one down (remember the last terrifying descent?), and the rest of the gang follows - passing me almost immediately on the hairpin turns at the top. Within minutes the storm is on us and the rain and thunder start. I watch the boys race off in front of me as the rain picks up, and after the next turn they're gone - I won't see them again for hours (but it's important to note that I WILL see them again).

Proof that we were there. And a lovely picture of the quickly darkening sky. It was unusually early in the day for a big storm to be brewing, and yet ...

The rain starts sheeting and then the lightening comes. Two BIG strikes and I hold my breath waiting for the next one to try to count how close it is. I didn't have to - the monstrous sky to ground bolt was right on top of me. Yes, I screamed (I'm a girl, leave me alone). I try to calm myself down and stay on my bike (rubber wheels, I know that's good) but I'm still so high on the mountain and I know that can't be good. I pass several people off their bikes - including one guy sitting on a guardrail. I hesitate just long enough to realize how utterly stupid that is and keep rolling. With the lightening still coming, the rain sheeting on the road, and my panic mounting, I make another few turns and see a white SUV. I pedal up to the SUV, play my girl card, and ask if I can stash my bike under a tree and come into the car. John, who as it turns out, was the Sheriff of Chaffee County (the county I happened to be in), quickly cleared off his front seat and opened the door for me.

I sat chatting with John the Sheriff for 20 minutes or so, until the lightening eased up (while sitting here I heard a call come in on his radio that there had just been a 12 man crash in the middle of the peleton: 2 riders were transported to the hospital. I silently hoped that no one fell down the side of the mountain. I found out later it was due to ... you probably guessed it - one of the cattle guards). John called down the mountain a few miles to ask his deputy if the storm was passing down there. It was. I thanked him, got out of the car, and headed back out in the rain. Feeling pretty good that I hadn't died yet, I start making better progress down the wet roads, and within a few minutes I see the first motorcycle go by me. The second one pulls up beside me and tells me the riders are coming and I have to get off the road. Reluctantly, I find a tree with a nice rock under it to camp out on. This is when my day turns bad.

I've heard about people dying in the mountains but it was only within the next few minutes that I understood how that actually could happen. I was still 11 miles up the mountain, it was still raining, I was drenched to the core, and now I was sitting on a rock. You don't generate a lot of heat sitting on a rock. My teeth started chattering wildly within about 30 seconds. I thought for a minute that I should probably let someone know I was ok, but that I'd be a while, so I try to send a text. There were a few typos, but I figured it was damned well good enough for someone to get that I was still alive and slammed my phone shut so I could get back into my huddled ball of frozen misery. If you're wondering, the text didn't go out (no signal, of course) but arrived after I was in the van - it said:

"im still coming own copttopnwood. just got pullweds off by patrol. ok tho. will follow."

After about 10 minutes (which is a really long time to shiver wildly) the lead riders came by - a pack of about 6 or 7. I hooted and tried to take pictures, couldn't hold the camera still, and gave up, deciding I actually didn't give a damn about the Pros at that particular moment. They were spread out a good bit at this point (inconsiderate rat bastards!) and after another 30 seconds I decided I needed to start moving. All I could do was walk along the edge of the road until the final vehicle came through saying it was ok to get back on my bike. An eternity later my buddy, the Sheriff, who was the final vehicle, comes by with his window rolled down and hollers out a happy "Terri! You made it!".  I laugh in spite of myself, get back on my bike and head down the mountain, glad to be moving again.

The lead riders coming down Cottonwood. Image Stabilization was no match for how ccccold I was.

On the way down I dry off a little bit (it's much warmer now that I'm off the mountain and the storm has passed) and learn that Steve also got caught by the Pros and is at a little restaurant in Buena Vista (just a few miles from where I am) eating a sandwich on the porch ... and go to find him. We chat for a minute while I inhale an energy bar, and then I start to shiver again - I tell Steve I'm too cold to stop and I'm heading on: he'll catch me anyway. Steve and I ride another 20 miles or so, and eventually get to the lunch spot, which is actually in yet another really pretty spot by a lake. Deciding I've had enough adventure for one day I get in the van and we head off to find the others, who have already headed up the 2nd mountain on to Aspen.

Between Cottonwood Pass and Aspen - still gorgeous, even as the storm moves on.

John, Terry, Todd and Humphries had made it down on the front edge of the storm and, being mistaken several times for the breakaway leaders, were given tremendous crowd support (complete with cowbells, wild screaming, and picture taking) as they sped through Buena Vista. Rumor does have it, however, that Humphries, while attempting to eat a package of goat cheese coming down Cottonwood at 45mph, met with an unfortunate gust of wind and ended up coated in it. If anyone spectating on Cottonwood has a photo of that please contact us: we'll pay big money.

In the van I find a snoozing John Martin. As it happened, when the storm started on the mountain, John tried to beat it out of there just like the rest of us. As luck would have it, right as the lightening started he came upon the back of a local rider who knew the terrain and was also racing to get down ahead of the storm. John wisely tacked onto this rider's wheel and got out of Dodge. For a fun and exciting quiz, I'll give you one guess as to the gender of that local rider? I was told later by witnesses that he was deeply concerned for my safety, which I'm sure he was, right after the local girl dropped him like a hot potato. (In truth, he knows my healthy fear of lightening, and figured, rightly, that I'd gotten myself off the road somehow and would be coming along later).

Sada had an incredible ride, and got to Aspen about 45minutes before the pros, obviously winning this stage of the Race Within the Race. He arrived early enough to run along with the Pros near the finish (Anthony, his 9yr old cyclist son, saw him on TV that nite!). Terry, Todd, and Humphries finished the stage as well - with a long harrowing wet descent into Aspen. It was the one and only time Todd wished for a downhill to be over; Independence Pass would prove to take it's toll on his butt in the very near future.   

In Aspen, the Liquigas and Garmin-Cervelo teams stayed at our hotel. We saw them hanging out in the lobby, viewing race footage, swearing in Italian and flipping off the screen every now and then. John had a chitty chat in Italian with the Liquigas support crew (I have GOT to brush up on my Italian!), and Sada talked to Basso briefly. Later, we watch the race on Versus in the hotel bar, which was littered with various cyclists and support folks and Elise, the reporter we met in Crested Butte. Her story from the top of Independence Pass got picked up and is fantastic - check it out here: Spectators Watch Bike Race on Two Wheels

Our table went WILD when the Lizard unexpectedly appeared on TV for the 2nd time! Before heading up Independence Pass, near the lunch spot, in the middle of nowhere, Erik and Humphries had taken time out to don the Lizard suit and run alongside the Pros (again, if you DVR'd it it's worth going back to find - you can't miss his greenness near the start of the climb to Independence Pass and Aspen). It was the perfect end to a perfectly imperfect day.

The Lake, The Lizard and Levi

This was our first easy day - the plan was to ride around Crested Butte, and watch the pro's finish at the top of the mountain. We started with a leisurely breakfast where Humphries told us about a place called Long Lake - a lake between two ridges with the most refreshing clear mountain water - it sounded way too good to pass up. Todd was charged with getting directions, and Sada, John, Todd and I headed up to find the oasis.

We rode all the way up the mountain, following our navigator, found the finish line and all the festivities - but no lake. After some discussion we learned of the extremely complicated directions ("2nd paved road on the left"), and headed back down the mountain to the turnoff that we'd missed. After another climb (which included our first introduction to cattle guards: slatted grates that go across the road apparently to keep the cows from heading into town to party at night, and just happen to have periodic gaps a hair wider than a front bicycle tire - you get used to them eventually and figure out where to cross, unfortunately that's harder to do when you're going 35mph in the middle of a peleton, as the Pros would learn the next day) we made it to a gravel road and a fence. From here you hike. The instructions said "hike until you think you've hiked for a really long time, then hike a little farther and look over the edge: you'll see the lake". Sure enough, after a hike that was just a little too long (a hike for most of us, a certain someone who hates to make forward progress on anything other than wheels, decided to ride) we found Long Lake. It was instantly one of the highlights of the trip for all of us who made the trek.You'll simply have to go there yourself to fully understand why. Like Vegas, what happens at Long Lake, stays at Long Lake (there may or may not have been a Calvin Klein underwear photo shoot).

The hike up to the lake.

Long Lake. 100x more spectacular in person.

All of us marveling over the cool clear mountain water (nothing like Alum!). You can see everyone's legs, even from where John took this picture on the shore.

Todd, swimming in the clear cool mountain water. Somewhere on the other side is a rope swing, but we were too enamored with the water to waste time looking for it.

Sada, the man who walks nowhere, on the "hike" to Long Lake.

After the lake we ride back up to the top of the mountain (if you're counting, it's the 2nd time today) to get some food and stake out our spot to watch the pros finish the 3 mile uphill battle.

Erik and Humphries, with Colorado flag and Lizard suit in tow.

As the Pros get closer, Humphries, Erik and Todd head back down to the base of the last climb to try to find a good spot to run with the racers before the barricades begin. Levi attacks PRECISELY at the base of the climb and wins the stage - clearly inspired by a green Humphries-sized Lizard and a crazed Buckeye fan (if you DVR'd this go watch Levi's attack one more time and play Where's Waldo with a Lizard and a striped OSU jersey - I promise you won't be disappointed!).

Levi, about 200yds from his win at Crested Butte, clearly inspired by the green Lizard.

Our view of the winners podium. Sorry we didn't get a good pic of the podium girls - they are as beautiful in person as you would imagine.

We spend the rest of the afternoon riding around Crested Butte, checking out various bike and outdoor stores (all of which are mysteriously manned by Brad Pitt look-a-likes, just a little tidbit for my single girlfriends), properties for sale, and fireplugs that start 3 feet off the ground and have 4 foot orange poles with flags at the top (think about it for a minute, you'll figure it out).

At dinner we hear more wonderful stories about Crested Butte (one of the guys had lived there for several years), including the sad day when naked bachelorette parties were banned in local pubs. We also go over the plan for the next day: The Queen Stage - up to Cottonwood Pass (14 miles of dirt with lethal drop offs), followed by an even bigger climb up Independence Pass and down into Aspen. We'll ride out ahead of the Pros, dodge road closures, and at some unknown-until-it-happens point, have to pull off the road to let the Pros pass before we continue on with our own ride. I do the math with the paces and the miles. Then redo the math. And still can't figure out how it's going to work. After giving myself (and the guys unfortunate enough to sit next to me at the table) a major headache, I give up and go to bed with a sketchy plan B in my head, stressed out and petrified, and try to brainwash myself to sleep (it doesn't work). In a sick and twisted way, I was comforted to hear the next morning that a few other folks didn't sleep well either.

Before we head out in the morning we meet up with a freelance radio news reporter and producer, Elise Thatcher, who is covering the race and is intrigued by the side story of the Lizard Head Cycling Tour: mere mortals following the same routes as the Pros. She interviews a few of us to get our famous last words ... er, I mean, our thoughts on Colorado, the Pro Tour, and the experience so far. We see Elise a few more times along the way and learn quite a few interesting things from her about Colorado inhabitants (why some people call it Menver, instead of Denver) and high-tech tools of the radio news trade (such as how to get the best sound on location by sitting in car completely covered with a blanket).

Elise, hard at work editing the day's piece.

Monarch Pass

After a breakfast buffet prepared at Chalet de Lizard, most of us headed out at 6:45 AM, bikes pointed towards Crested Butte, by way of Monarch Pass and Gunnison. Sada and Humphries started the Inaugural head-to-head 'Race Within The Race' about an hour later.  The long and only-slightly-uphill approach to the bottom of the mountain gave us time to psych ourselves up for the twelve (12) mile 4300ft climb.

A herd of unidentified creatures on the approach to Monarch Pass. I'm calling them antelope.

John and his bike, pointed in the right direction. We're climbing one of those monstrosities today.

Colorado roadkill, on the way up the mountain. What's funny is both Todd and I (riding about  45 minutes apart) spied this little guy and stopped, thought about strapping him to the front of our bikes, and upon realizing he was soggy, decided to leave him lie.

On the way up to Monarch Pass

Looking down the mountain .... pictures don't do it justice.

WE MADE IT! (That's me in the window taking the picture: proof that I was still vertical). The guys getting into the red car were in their 80s, drove up from Texas to see the mountains and catch a little of the Pro tour.

After a snack at the top and a short break (you can't stop too long, sweat gets cold fast at 11,000 ft) we headed down the other side. I don't know that I've ever been more terrified. At any given minute I could have rattled off at least 7 different ways I could die: majorly lose control and fly over the edge, lose a little control and swing into oncoming traffic, get hit by the car behind me, get mowed down on a blind curve by someone who didn't see me until it was too late, hit a pothole or rock, crash and slide off the road over the edge, get hit by a guy passing someone in oncoming traffic, get hit by a runaway truck. I stopped 3 or 4 times because the death grip on my handle bars made my hands cramp and my legs were shaking. Luckily there were runaway truck ramps and the roads were dry so I could pump my brakes when I started to panic. I started praying for temporarily higher levels of testosterone - lack of protrusions aside, women do NOT have an advantage in cycling. Everyone else (all male, if I haven't mentioned that yet) loved it - hitting 45-50mph.

After only slightly less time than it took me to get up the mountain, I was down. And happy. I breathed a sigh of relief and sat up for the first time in an hour and tried to relax ... only to feel my front wheel wobble wildly in the newly gusting wind. I hunkered down again and just kept pedaling - if I didn't die on that descent I sure wasn't going to give up the ghost now.

The other side of the mountain. It looks so nice doesn't it? Why? Because you can't see the wind!

I found John a few miles later at a gas station, hob-nobbing with a huge motorcycle gang from Europe (they brought their bikes over the pond - we found consolation in the thought that their bike shipping costs might have been slightly more than ours). We chatted with them a bit (mostly so I could enjoy their accents, which I did) and then continued on our way to Crested Butte, wind against us the entire way. The views were still spectacular though and I quickly forgot that I had just been scared out of my wits.

Crested Butte off in the distance, under a killer sky.

Another spectacular spot on the way to Crested Butte. The speck in the lower left is John.

Somewhere along the road we met Felix, who, it turns out, was in town working as a race marshalls. Felix helped pull us into Crested Butte against the wind, and would pop up a few more times during our trip, most notably, drunk as a skunk at the hotel hot tub that night. 

Felix, outside Crested Butte.

The RWTR replay occurred over dinner: Sada attacked Humphries 3 times (with advance notice, apparently Sada was feeling generous today) ... all 3 times Humphries catches him. During one attack Sada passes Todd, reaches over, pulls out his heart (Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom style) and like the cannibal that he is, eats it with a wild grin. Todd laughed and fell off, knowing he would lose 3 or 4 other vital organs before the race was over. Sada made a 4th and final attack, on which Humphries surrenders: Sada wins the day.

It's up. Or it's down. There is no flat.

Yes, I know it's Friday. We're a little behind. This trip has been packed to the gills and then some (it feels a lot like a week long T2, for you triathletes out there) ... let's try to catch up ...
 
Lizard Head Cycling Guides arrived at the hotel at 9am (last) Sunday, with our bikes riding happily on the roof of the luxury van and attached trailer. It was right about now that it hit me 'we really ARE going cycling in the Colorado Rockies'. After loading up we took the scenic drive from Denver to Salida.

The Lizard Head mobile unit. 

The boys standing around after a quick stop on the Colorado Trail to ... admire the foliage.  Left to Right: Steve (from Telluride, near Lizard Head's corporate office), Todd, Terry (from Louisiana), John Sada, John Humphries (Lizard Head's CEO), John Martin.

The left-most saddle is (I think) the top of one of the two climbs on our mammoth stage (Wednesday).

Around here, ALL rivers rush. The sound and smell are incredible, and notice that the water is clear, not muddy brown.

Immediately upon arriving, we had a great lunch in a gorgeous little park in the heart of Salida. By the time we got ourselves out of the van (roughly 7 seconds) Eric had already setup 2 buffet tables, cut local veggies and avocado for sandwiches, and was putting a spoon in the fresh olive and artichoke salad. These guys know how to eat! And the best part: you blink and there's food in front of you. I don't think we're going to go hungry on this trip.

By chance, there was a charity event going on in the park (complete with charity bike ride, of course) with live music. They were a country band - sounded good, if you like that sort of thing; nonetheless entertaining if you don't - one of the favorites: 'If you got no one to love, why don't you try loving me?'. 

Todd and John relaxing while the Lizard Head Chef (Eric) prepares lunch in the background.

After lunch we headed out on a short 'welcome to Colorado' ride (aka 'see if your lungs function at this altitude' ride). After about 3 miles I realized that there really is no flat out here - if you think it's flat, you're wrong. Motorists out here know that - they're either chugging to get up a climb and really don't want to lose momentum by slowing down (for, oh, say, a cyclist to cross the road) ... or they're flying down a descent and making up time from the previous slow climb. However, they generally seem to have no real angst towards cyclists, and more importantly, seem comfortable with sharing the road with the likes of us. We tooled around the outskirts of Salida and then headed into town to check out a local bike store and enjoy the hoppin' little town - Stage 1 of the Pro Tour starts here on Tuesday!

John Humphries, showing his moves outside the bike shop.

Absolute Bikes, Salida Colorado. They fixed problems with my, Sada's and Todd's bikes at no charge and wished us a great trip. If you're in Salida and need something go check them out.

Todd and John, near the end of our easy 'Tastin' Lung' ride, on the way up to the very swank 'Tudor Rose Chalets' where we stayed for the night. There was a 100 yd 17% grade hill just minutes to the left of this picture. Todd made a valiant attack on Humphries and Sada at the bottom of the hill and won the stage.*

(*had the finish line been only 30yds up the hill).

Denver was at 5280 ft, Salida 7080 ft. In general, us non-mountain-folk are feeling pretty good. John Martin's magic supplement to combat the altitude seems to be working for me, him and Todd. John and I had blazing headaches all day today, but with the help of assorted drugs it's easing up nicely. Other folks said on the ride they noticed they were breathing a little harder and their heart rates felt higher than usual - but nothing unbearable.

We had a great dinner at an abandoned whore house called the 'Red Lady' - the food was spectacular and the conversation was even better. The quote of the day (again, bonus points if you can guess who said it):

Multiple girlfriends? You mean 'catch and release'? 

Tomorrow we ride from Salida to Crested Butte (92 miles, by way of Monarch Pass - 11300 ft): the Pro's Stage 1!