Climbing Lookout Mountain--Wow, I DID It!
When I first moved to Colorado, I lived in Cody Park, on the back side of Lookout Mountain off Lookout Mountain Road, for four months. I came here from sea level, and for a long time the slightest bike ride left me gasping for air with the exertion. I would ride the gently rolling terrain to the top of Lookout Mountain, peer down the other side, and gasp as I beheld six steep, rugged miles of uphill, bookmarked by switchback after switchback.
It looked beyond intimidating – it looked impossible!
 |
| The view from what I thought was the top. I climbed 2-3 more miles after this. |
Every day I would see cyclists whiz by, coming down after that climb up the front side, and I wondered how they did it. Were Colorado bikers made up of different stuff – massive hearts, legs of granite, and no pain threshold? Nothing back in Westchester County, NY, had prepared me for anything like this. I had been strong, but this was just impossible. I would never be able to do it.
That Was Then, This is Now
Fast-forward three years. I have a new bike, lots of hilly Colorado miles on these legs, and increasing confidence with each mountain I climb. Last week I took my daughter to camp in Denver and was driving home on Rte. 6 when I looked up at Lookout Mountain, and suddenly was overcome by a burning desire to try it, a new confidence that maybe, just maybe, I could reach the top.
Fast-forward three years. I have a new bike, lots of hilly Colorado miles on these legs, and increasing confidence with each mountain I climb. Last week I took my daughter to camp in Denver and was driving home on Rte. 6 when I looked up at Lookout Mountain, and suddenly was overcome by a burning desire to try it, a new confidence that maybe, just maybe, I could reach the top.
My bike was in the back of the car, I had clothing, shoes and my helmet with me, and I suddenly decided, go for it! I turned onto Heritage Road, parked by an office building, did a car quick-change (cyclists are adept at this), pulled out the bike and hopped on.
The Trip Up the Mountain
The first mile or so was downhill on a trail. Then I turned right onto 19th Avenue and began the climb up the epic front side of Lookout Mountain. I climbed. And climbed. And climbed. First one switchback. Then another. Up out of the saddle for the steep sections. Back down for the easier inclines. One mile. Two. Three. Four. The view was staggeringly beautiful. The work was hard, but my legs were strong. Suddenly the antennae at the top were looming above. Almost there!
The first mile or so was downhill on a trail. Then I turned right onto 19th Avenue and began the climb up the epic front side of Lookout Mountain. I climbed. And climbed. And climbed. First one switchback. Then another. Up out of the saddle for the steep sections. Back down for the easier inclines. One mile. Two. Three. Four. The view was staggeringly beautiful. The work was hard, but my legs were strong. Suddenly the antennae at the top were looming above. Almost there!
“Just keep spinning,” was my mantra, a plan on Dory the fish’s “Just keep swimming” advice in the movie “Finding Nemo.” “Just keep spinning. Just keep spinning.”
The Pinnacle ... Sort Of
And then I was there – at the top! Or so I thought. It turned out the hill keeps going for another two or three miles, almost to Cody Park Drive, before I was finally able to start the descent. By then I was ready for the climbing part to be over.
And then I was there – at the top! Or so I thought. It turned out the hill keeps going for another two or three miles, almost to Cody Park Drive, before I was finally able to start the descent. By then I was ready for the climbing part to be over.
Wheee! Nine miles down with the wind rushing past my ears at 30-plus miles per hour; it was divine.
I guess I am a true Coloradan now: I can ride Lookout Mountain.
See you on the roads!
-- The Hammster
No comments:
Post a Comment