Just tuning in? Be sure to first read High On a Mountain Top Part I that details one of my best days ever in the mountains.

When waxing ambitious with something that is physically challenging, it is best to confirm the facts. I.e. Is the bike ride from Frisco to Breckenridge really 20 miles? Just how steep is it? What did those kids eat for dinner that made them each add 10 pounds to the load?

We did not do our homework, nor did we put Haddie and Bode on a crash diet. To be honest, I was not worried because for once, I was thrilled to not be the one hauling them in the bike trailer (loving, empathetic wife that I am).

Something we did not calculate into our ride was the distance from the condo to the trailhead: a meager 2 miles. Now, 2 miles X 2 (round-trip) may not seem like a big deal. But tack those 4 miles onto 20 miles and guess what?

It is.

To be honest, I had an easy time on the moderate ascent. But when pulling that 65-pound trailer, no terrain is moderate. Poor Jamie toughed it out but by the time we arrived in Breckenridge 1.5 hours later, his knees were writhing in pain.

We dumped the bikes and strolled around Breck, playing with the kids at Riverside Park and coveting the sweet gourmet aromas of surrounding restaurants. We ultimately grabbed some food from a little deli and settled down beside the Blue River, listening to the sweet melodies of the Colorado Symphony as they practiced in the adjacent tent. With the fresh air, bubbling waters and the granite cliffs that stood sentry over us, everything just seemed right.

Until our descent.

Now, by the very connotation of the word, one would think this would be an effortless process of simply coasting down the mountainside with the wind at our backs. The problem was, there was wind but it was at our backs, our fronts, our sides, everywhere, turning that 65-pound trailer into a veritable parachute.

Again, I was rather unaffected but I took one look at Jamie after a few miles and knew he had reached his limit.

“Do you need to switch?”

“Yeah,” he said, wincing in pain.

“No problem, I feel strong!”

Famous last words, ones will probably be on my tombstone.

Jamie did not want the cumbersome task of switching the trailer over to my bike so presented me with his. Now, I don’t know if you have ever seen the height difference between the two of us but the man has about nine inches on me. And he had conveniently forgotten his tools to lower the seat.

I won’t expound upon the visual of me teetering on my tiptoes as I hyper-extended my legs, nearly canning myself on the frame with every rotation. Oh wait. I guess I just did. After about 15 minutes of this, my legs (and other undisclosed body parts) were in pain. I announced we had to switch the trailer so I could pull it on my bike. Fine.

Problem was I made the annunciation at the base of a monster hill, just the kind of place where you would want to gain some momentum prior to tackling it. If you were lacking in ambition, that is.

The kids and I set out on the climb cold turkey. Within a few minutes, Jamie’s knees gave out and he resorted to walking his bike up the hill. He was several yards ahead as my little engine slooooowly chugged along. I joked that he would probably still beat me.

He did.

And it did not get better. Bottom line, we survived but won’t be tackling 24-mile trips with the kids anytime soon in this lifetime.

Unless, that is, I feel strong. And you know where that mantra will get me.

P.S. Happy 40th Birthday birthday to my friend Tina! Oh, and that tombstone? No correlation whatsoever….
XOXXOX
-CBC

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