to my last post, winter can also be fun.
Behold, the First Annual New Year’s ‘Cross Fondo.
Nearly 40 people showed up on the first day of this fine 2010, ready to rock. The ride was organized by the ever-passionate Greg Keller, who is seen here addressing the troops before they embarked on a series of 360-turn-downs in the dirt jump park.
Actually, before I go any farther, I think I will open this post up to a guest blogger. Here’s Rob Love’s version of events.
Dan F, known to some as Pale Power, uses the now patented JPow start to holeshot the first race of the year.
Well, the new year is officially off the ground. My buddy Greg organized a great ride, and all sorts of different people showed up. We met up on the shady side of Amante and it seemed like everyone but me showed up with some sort of new-zoot helmet cam, HD flip-thingie, or some other hi-tech Christmas present. I showed up with my single-speed and my horn. Damn, it felt good to get back out on the bike after taking way too many weeks off.
We rolled out and over to the BPOE elks lodge and dove into the snowpack. The venue was short lived, though, as I followed people directly eastward into the network of bike paths connecting to Gunbarrell. Somehow we showed up at Eaton Park, and Boups, Spencer, and I hit the dirt jumps on our cross bikes. The jumps were covered in snow, but it was pretty rad anyways. Someone somewhere has a video, but damn if they have shared it with me. So, i give you this:
So, we lit outta there and made our way through some of the other paths and trails out almost into Niwot before getting separated with a slight touch of the floor on an icy patch. Once we got the affected parties back on their bikes and exchanged insurance cards, we were off. However, we took a wrong turn and ended up to far out into the Longmont/Niwot constellation. Spencer had cell coverage and dialed up the crew, who had since noticed our absence and were performing one of the most difficult moves in all of amateur racing–adhering to the “no drop” rule instituted at the beginning of the ride.
Heading east of the tracks, into the great white yonder
All back in the fold, we crossed over into open-space trails at Coot Lake and ripped over past the Res, the sun shining down and the Flatirons laid out in front of us. Everyone must have been feeling good, because we strung it out and rallied full-tilt across the crunchy snow to the next parking lot.
Marty and I in a cheezy albeit genuine photo. Hey, we’re just psyched to be riding!
The final push back into Boulder was a bit of a struggle on the single, I must admit. While there is a saying about gears being for people who prefer the personal company of the same sex, I sure do wish I had a couple of gears on my bike. Not that there’s anything wrong with that…
Anyways, we walked, rode, and slogged through some deep drifts on the open space off of Neva road, and decided to cash it in and opted for 36 into North Boulder. The horses could smell the barn, and the pace lit up like Chinese new year (because we might just be celebrating that more widely over here soon, but i digress). Yours truly was not too proud to get spit out, and Marty, Brandon, and I fought for Lantern Rouge. I think I won, but we’ll have to consult the video. We all rolled in together to Gregs house, where his sons were kind enough to feed me pistachios and beer for a couple of hours. How sweet it is.
Not too shabby for the first day of the year.
All told, Marty and I had a great day, and if you’re like me (and i know i am) you’re glad to have someone along on the ride to take the pics, enjoy the something something something DARK SIDE humour, and dream of podiums in 9 short months.