Most people go on vacation in the lap of luxury, but not my Brad. Instead of a house full of beach towels, we have a house full of bikes.
Since I am the DD cyclist, I was tasked dropping off Brad, Jim, and Ellen in Glenwood so they could bike to Aspen. I got a couple hours of rest until I met them at Woody Creek to ride the remainder of the path home. I was promised the ride was 15 miles downhill for an easy and relaxing ride.
Never listen to your spouse and best friends. The downhill and slow ride involved stopping at car crossings. Stopping is a clipless newbie worst nightmare so I was relying on Ellen to clear the path for me. We get to a car crossing and Ellen yells clear and I almost became a hood ornament.
I started to get my rhythm when we hit a .27 mile and 116 ft climb. I see Jim out of his saddle then Brad then Ellen and I started to cry. I pedaled my big legs to get my big butt up that hill and then I was guilty of the ultimate cycling heresy. I got off my bike and walked. I ran out of gears! Come to find out Brad bought me a racing bike which was meant for flat/downhills or a pro racer to use uphill. YEP, I have an 11-25 cassette which means there was never enough gears to get me up the hill.
On our final descent, Jim released the killer bees and I was stung on the front of my neck! I was done - completely done.
We made it to our deck with a cooler of beer and the Frying Pan river rushing by. I sat down and grabbed a beer when 2 bees started buzzing in my shirt and bit me twice on my boob. Brad's solution was to put my ice-cold beer on the two bites and so I did.
To add insult to injury, a cinnamon bear decided to party with us and I lost my every living mind and knew it was time to start packing my bags.
Next vacation is on a beach with a cabana boy.