Stage 5.

The el Grande Finale! WOW! is about all I can muster. What. a. week. Damn. Mind is still reeling from yesterday. What a freakin’ spectacular bike ride. Popping out of treeline into the cathedral of mountains was something special. To retreat to the mountains, ponder the insignificance and have it slap you right on the face, exponential perspective. Wow.

Anyways….start the morning giddy, feeling it, thinking it. Today is the Finale’, our last day to perform on this epic stage. Super duper casual start to the day, more great breakfast, then retreat to the tent to kit up, ponder what’s in store. Fill the pockets, jump on the bike and roll ‘cross town to the ice rink venue. Snap some pics then slot into the established pecking order.

Day begins with another 5-10mph spin behind the flashing blue lights. An enjoyable start, well, at least until the breathing becomes pursed. Legs are still solid, maybe a bit of snap left, so may as well use ‘em up. Off the road and into the woods, do what I can to try and keep Jeff, Brian and Rich in sight, then rock the 18t inspired tantric rhythmic breathing up the damn hill. Try to stay on top of the gear and maybe keep the wirey oompa loompa Moots boy in check, settle into a carrot munching pace. Any time gained here is breathing room on the descent.

Qwik hit of speed then we turn left and climb up to Boreas Pass. Day is rocking so far, not getting gobbled up by the coasty trains until the bottoms, so not much gap to close on the ups. Boreas Pass road is rockin fixy climbing zen pace, rolling that tempo cadence over and over and over, plucking one carrot at a time from the shadows of the cave. Final carrots on the pass are chick leader Jen and rock solid ss Brian. Oh yeah, holding pace today!

Fill a bottle at the aid, then a qwik hit of sketchy wedged foot descending to the trailhead. Drop into an interesting tedious rut, then into the trees for a solid helping of fixy bliss. Flow, flow, flow it down the mtnside, survive some pitchyness intact, then it’s waist high perpendicular bermed flume carving. Jedi mind tricks on a Rocky Mtn scale, yeah. Play cat n mouse with Rich and some Masters, keeping the gaps tight before we dump onto the return climb.

Swing a Louie and reset the tempo pace. First, close down the coasty gaps, then go looking for fresh faces. Back on it like magic carpet floating, rolling the 18 back up the hill at 12ish on the speed o meter. Spot uber chica Jen up ahead, way up ahead, and no shit! There’s Brian, and is that Jeff up there rockin’ the Spotted belt up this final effort? Dig into the really quiet password guarded place and will the pedals around, one. more. time.

Reel ‘em in right as we hit the summit, then it’s horror flick chasing paranoia time. Always looking over the shoulder, wondering when my white rimmed nemesis will appear. A looooong downhill sprint and we’re finally dropping into some one track, someplace where I can maybe hold my own. Throw caution to the wind, no more thinking about tomorrow and risk the inevitable pedal hooking launch thru the air.

Cash in all the instinct, all the miles, all the near misses and direct hits and just pedal the damn bike down the hill. KuhnDawg latches on for a bit, then takes off putting on his own show. Just pedal dammit! And soon enough there’s a jingle jangle bell in the background…fuck, Rich is back. Well, fuck him. This is racing, I’m on a groove, there are no gifts on the last day. 99 out of 100 times I’d relent, but today I’m riding wide, using it all and pushing my pace to be just fast enough to make any passing skeeeeetchyyyyy. Luckily Rich isn’t a 100% crazed mongrel, so he enjoyed his time in the catbird seat and we rolled it home 5th & 6th on the day. Boo. Yahhh!

And again, I can’t thank Mike enough for following his vision, one hell of an event that’s left me numb all over, gonna take a while to let this one soak in. Came out here looking for something not yet experienced, and found it for sure.

Thanks man.