Thursday, October 6, 2011

When Worlds Collide

One day, not long after I started working at Destinations, I decided to take a lunch break and go for a ride.  It was a slow March day, and nothing much was going on, so an hour out of the shop wouldn't hurt anything.

I took my mountain bike and headed across Cherry Creek.  There was some dirt work going on in one of the open fields, and the contractor had piled up soil into a large pyramid about 20 feet high.  There were a couple of packed tracks where the front loders had driven up and dow, so I spent some time riding up, then over this huge dirt pile. 

After that, I rode some trails which ran through a couple of fallow fields, and practiced getting air off of the humps in the trails.

I got back to the shop after an hour of this, pretty sweaty and tired.

"How far did you go?" Dan asked.  He was a road racer.

I looked at my cyclometer.  "Six miles..."

"A whole hour, and you only went six miles?  How can you be so slow?"  He couldn't comprehend that I had not gotten on a road and ridden as fast as I could, while I was out.  Dinking around on a mountain bike was not an arrow in his quiver.

"Just lazy, I guess,"  I said, as I walked away.

Dan just shook his head, slowly, and went on with what he was doing.


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As always, sorry about the word verification. It's a necessary evil, unfortunately.