As I sit here and begin to blog about the US Pro Cycling Challenge, it dawns on me that I have only mountain biked 4 times this year. I suppose it doesn't make things easier when a year ago, I got a black eye from flipping over the handlebars on slick rock in Moab and having to face regained confidence and then furthering my out-of-commission by dropping a 50lb barbell on my neck and 2 weeks later spraining some sort of bone in my foot by simply playing 3 softball games and 1 football game...how that is possible, I wouldn't know and now going back to crossfit is a far distant sight. But, those "injuries" come and go and hopefully my accident prone self has only had a 2 year stint and I'll be back to normal for a heavy mountain biking summer next year.
Anyway...I'm not a negative person, so you have to laugh some times ;)
Some times you gotta cry too...my husband sang the national anthem for the US Pro Cycling Challenge Stage 5 in Breckenridge this year and I bawled like a little baby (good crying), so much that my attempted video of him looked like I was in the middle of an earthquake. It's not everyday dreams come true like his did, singing in front of thousands of people.
Then...the bikers came and it was so much different than last year when I watched it in Silverthorne and the stage ended in Breckenridge. I stood on the side of the street in Silverthorne with so many other people who had closed their businesses for an hour to watch the racers fly by, yellow jackets clearly defined. This year, however, the stage started in Breckenridge and it wasn't the same. A clump of bikers circled main street 3 times, followed by many little sports cars before they took off over Hoosier Pass and onto highway 285 to Colorado Springs. Pretty neat to see them come by us so many times. The only yellow jacket I could see this year, was the blonde lady in front of me who was equally as excited to witness such a cool event.
Then...the bikers came and it was so much different than last year when I watched it in Silverthorne and the stage ended in Breckenridge. I stood on the side of the street in Silverthorne with so many other people who had closed their businesses for an hour to watch the racers fly by, yellow jackets clearly defined. This year, however, the stage started in Breckenridge and it wasn't the same. A clump of bikers circled main street 3 times, followed by many little sports cars before they took off over Hoosier Pass and onto highway 285 to Colorado Springs. Pretty neat to see them come by us so many times. The only yellow jacket I could see this year, was the blonde lady in front of me who was equally as excited to witness such a cool event.
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