The Art of Moving Forward, a Sweet Transvestite, and a Summit Swig

Day: 36 (Howard, CO to Gunnison, CO)

Average Speed: 9.8 MPH

Miles Cycled Today: 80.3

Miles Cycled Total: 2,422

Mood: Proud

In Downtown Cyclist-Friendly Salida

If you keep moving forward, it’s impossible not to get there. 

If you keep moving forward, it’s impossible not to get there. 

Looks Like a Coors Light Can, Don't It?

That’s how I dealt with the first 40 miles of today’s ride. Staring at the speedometer and watching my average speed plummet, waiting eons for the odometer to show I went another mile- this is not helpful, and I tried my damndest to tune those things out. 

But one thing is undeniably true: If you keep moving forward, it’s impossible not to get there. 

You can always cycle One More Pedal. And nobody I know pedals a bicycle backwards. 

Check out the Big Mama mountain I crossed today:

Today's Route, Featuring Monarch Pass 

Salida, Colorado

The gorgeous and super-bicycle-friendly town of Salida, where I had breakfast and window shopped, was the perfect way to start the day. 

It was hard to leave this town for a couple of reasons: 1) It’s awesome  2) I live in fear of beginning a Major Climb, even though that fear always dissipates as soon as I start upward.

But today exceeded my expectations.

If yesterday was one of the worst days I’ve had on a bicycle, then today was easily one of the best. The wind that was so drunk and violent yesterday was a bit hungover and lethargic this morning, not quite offering an apology... but as close to an apology as an angry drunk gets. 

And once I hit the foot of Monarch Mountain, Uncle Windy-Pants left me alone for good. 

David Pedals Ahead... Always.
Pic from Colorado State Line
Not from Today

At some point toward the beginning of the climb, David (a westbounder I had met at the Colorado state line) snuck up on me and we pedaled side-by-side for a bit. This guy has twice as much luggage as I do and he is incredibly fast on a touring bike. He offered me a motivational challenge: “Want to try to keep pace with me?” 

(I don’t want this to read the wrong way- by no means was he being condescending. Only earnest motivation). 

I declined the offer. 

I’ve said this before, but it’s worth repeating: I’m not an athlete. I never will be one. And I don't want to be. 

It’s fun to have a high speed average, but attaining that has never been my goal. This is why it is so important for me to tune out signs like “6 miles to Monarch Summit.” It might sound good, but when you’re pedaling at 3.5 miles per hour, that’s still two whole difficult hours (with breaks) left in front of you. 

And it's disheartening to think that way. 

Instead think: If you keep moving forward, it’s impossible not to get there. 

Five miles from the peak, a bizarrely out-of-place hotel materialized (think a less glamorous version of The Overlook from The Shining. They’re probably looking for a winter caretaker if anyone’s interested), and I stopped in to buy a beverage and acclimate to the altitude. I was at 10,000 feet, and not only was I a bit lightheaded, but I was cold too.

I decided to change into my leggings just as a sharp-tongued woman named A.J. appeared. She stared at me, slack-jawed, as I pointed my feet skyward and shamelessly shimmied into the Spandex.

She’d obviously never been to a Rocky Horror Picture Show screening. 

After I assured her it was safe to approach, she asked the vulgar version of the Usual Questions, and when I told her what I was doing, she eyed me closely: “Don’t you have to be like… in shape to do that?” 

I stared back incredulously and said the only two words a person should say in response to that… the first of which began with an F. 

She realized her faux pas and the two of us laughed until our eyes were teary. 

As funny as it seems, it’s actually a good question. And it’s one that has an answer… NO. 

"There’s no way I’d ever be able to do that!" is a self-deprecating remark that I’ve heard so many times from people when they hear what I'm attempting. Then they inevitably add "I can only go a mile or so, and then I’m done!"

Bullshit. 

If you can go one mile, then surely you can go two. And if you can go two, then five shouldn’t be a big deal. And if you can go five, twenty isn't out of the question. And if you can go twenty, you can cross the damn country. 

Just keep moving forward. 

As I neared the top, cars started flashing their lights, and drivers offered thumbs-up. And when I saw the summit, I sprinted the last 1200 feet. It was 7 PM, but it could’ve been midnight for all I cared.

Wow.

I made it. 

And I sobbed. 

And no one’s gonna tell me not to take a little nip of Maker’s Mark next to this sign: 

A Little Celebration

...And a Well Deserved Sticker

Monarch Summit View

Were it not for the January temperatures, the ten mile descent to the bottom would’ve been lovely. But by the time I reached the base, I could neither feel nor control my hands. 

I found a small deli that served hot chocolate, and the cashier had to help me retrieve dollar bills from my pocket as my fingers were worthless. The sun had all but set, and she offered me a place to camp and warm up. 

I was about to take her up on her offer, but then got a message from Jamie. He’d found a host in the town of Gunnison willing to take me in. 

Gunnison. 32 more miles away. 

I looked at the cashier, thanked her for the offer, chugged the hot chocolate, and got back on the bike as the sun disappeared.

32 miles? No big deal. 

If you keep moving forward, it’s impossible not to get there.

P.S.

If I had Stopped Here, My Average Speed Would've Been Much Slower