I was unsure if I would get to experience the high country wearing its yellow coat this year. My broken ankle, which had been behaving so well, had taken a few "steps" backwards. Stiffness and swelling were keeping me off the bike making me stir crazy at home. (see previous blog post for what happens when I'm stir crazy at home)
Luckily Mary's Dad's retirement party forced us out of Fruita and a nice trade of days with George allowed for 5 days in a row off. We left for Moab with our little Rover in tow, a couple of bikes and the usual high strung little dog, in search of adventure. Whether it would be by bike, by foot or by automobile we did not know.
In Moab we celebrated over 30 years of Mary's Dad working for the state of Utah by shooting the heck out of cans. And we were all put to shame by Mary's 10 for 10 shooting score, and then further humbled when she realized she had forgotten to wear her contacts that morning!
My ankle was feeling like crap in Moab. In three days there wasn't one day that I thought I could ride my bike and I was struggling to walk without a limp. We figured with the time off we had better enjoy what we had, so we drove toward Telluride and the frosty air of the high country.
It was hard to feel sorry for my-self as we rolled into Telluride that evening. Simply amazing was the sight.
We "camped" in the middle of nowhere in the San Juan Mountains. A nice stream bubbled outside which was more then cold enough to soak my ankle in. We lounged around for a morning until I decided that if my ankle felt like crap it may as well feel like crap while riding my bike.
The worlds most perfect double track slithered away from our camp into the mountains. Dinka and I were on it! For two hours we climbed into the yellow world of the upper altitudes.
Finally I ran out of steam. We had to turn around without reaching the top, where ever that was? We bombed back down the way we had came and I decided to NOT let off in the rough sections of trail.
As we got back to camp I realized for the first time in a while my ankle was feeling pretty good. I soaked it in the stream and contemplated riding Phils World in Cortez the next morning.
My ankle felt better then ever the next morning. Mary took a departing shot of my first ride on real single track since shattering it over 3 months ago. Most people don't return to activity like this for 6 months with my specific inury. About 2 hours into our ride I begin to notice I no longer felt the pain and tightness. Things were changing. My body was remembering that I am indeed a mountain biker and that it KNOWS HOW TO DO THIS!
Four hours we rode that day, little Dinka dog and I. We were having so much fun we ran out of water. Luckily we were saved by Tim, from Durango. The only mountain biker we saw the whole day and of course he was wearing an Over The Edge jersey. We finished Phils World together, shredding the Rib Cage like it was our first time. So much fun! Thanks so much to Tim for keeping my little mutt watered and for sharing a little piece of a really sweet bike ride with me. Riding bikes is so RAD! It's so good to be back.
