The couch potatoes were right....

Ok, I finally admit it - the couch potatoes were right. Exercising in Winter, January specifically, yesterday in particular, is no fun. It’s cold, dark, often wet, and most of nature is covered in a white blanket or hibernating. Yeah, I could work out indoors, and often do, spinning away on ye old exercise bike when the outside clime is too sever even for me. But even with tunes blaring and the TV droning, I can only tolerate the insanity of sitting on a stationary bike going absolutely nowhere for only so long.

Running and cycling are by their nature outdoor endeavors. My chosen passion lends itself to two wheels churning rather than two feet plodding (if I was a runner plod would be the accurate description...) so I find myself, now retired, with no good excuse for not getting out there - “Just do it!” - so yesterday found me out on my trusty steed endlessly circling Bear Creek Park in Lakewood to get some early season miles in. Used to be, way, way, back in the day that the cycling season unofficially ended in late November with riders taking a hiatus in the frigid cold of December and January. 40 miles cumulative in January was considered good. After all, if you were out riding you weren’t schussing down the slopes and by god that would just be un-Coloradoan. Even when I was a more active skier I knew that come March and April getting my rump back on the bike saddle was going to hurt but that was the price to be paid to be able to do all the riding that this greatest of States offers in the summer.

Not now. Years ago when I’d venture out to attain those measly 40 miles I’d be lucky to see another rider. Sure, even back then there were a fair number of winter runners but runners are even crazier than cyclists so at least they had an excuse. Now 40 miles is about a half week’s worth of riding and it’s almost crowded on the paths and roadways that are actually free of snow.

Which brings me to yesterday. Temps were in the 30’s and I was dressed like the Michelin Man. Heck, it takes me longer to get dressed in all those layers than it does to do the ride but the good thing is I’m so layered up under all that clothing that I’m unrecognizable as the crazy fool I am for being out there in the first place. From head to toe I’m covered in fleece, woolly mittens, thermal underwear, and neoprene booties. Oh, and don’t forget the balaclava. I didn’t even know what the word balaclava meant until I started riding more in the Winter. The first time I heard the word I thought it sounded slightly Greek and probably delicious. The snow lay deep and there were occasional icy patches that made you pay attention so I couldn’t even zone out. There’s not much variation to the scenery on a Winter ride except for the occasional snowshoe hare, whitetail deer or ice fisherman (and they’re even crazier than runners). So it’s nice that there are now so many of us out there chugging up and down hill and dale, clouds of steam streaming in our wake. The nice thing is that winter cyclists still wave at each other in silent encouragement, something most summertime riders gave up doing years ago (more’s the pity) and there’s the added benefit of an upper body workout from the constant raising of the arm to acknowledge one’s fellow sufferers. These early season rides used to be mainly on flat terrain but in today’s world you’ll see other idgits (that’s the polite term for idiot) riding Lookout Mountain, Genessee, Evergreen, Red Rocks, etc. which is some fairly serious elevation gain even in July. And some of these guys and gals (yes, this Winter malady has afflicted even the fairer sex) are actually working - dare I say it - hard. These are the folks, come summer, who will fly by me going uphill on Ride the Rockies, the Triple Bypass, Elephant Rock and other similar rides.

I had the double whammy of just returning from St. Lucia in the Caribbean which most definitely is not conducive to Winter riding. It is however very much conducive to excessive eating, drinking, and sleeping on the beach under an incredibly warm sun. Getting back on the bike, in the freezing cold, I knew was going to be painful and I was right. My butt hurt, my arms hurt, my back hurt, and my legs by the end of the ride felt like they were no longer attached to my body. So, all you,couch potatoes out there, I salute you. You are most wise in your somnolent splendor. Me, not being so bright, will be out there again today wondering what the heck I’m doing. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

One of the things I dream about when out on a Winter ride is the joy of riding in the summer, just 6 long months away. Here’s the Bear Creek ride on a decidedly non-Winter day: