I got up early on Saturday morning, had a little breakfast and coffee, then headed over to the base resort. I rented a hardtail and a brain bucket, then spun my wheels (literally) until 10 when the lift opened.

I was the 4th person in line, so I got a jump on the crowds for my first run. I headed up to the top of the Mary Jane lift at 11,200 ft. It was a steady uphill pull, and I was able to set a good pace without getting too winded, so I was obviously in far better shape than when I was here last year. I really would've liked to head up the Nystrom trail to the top of Parsenn Bowl at 12,060 ft, but I didn't want to leave the bike behind, so I continued around the Icarus trail in a big loop down to the base again. It was a beautiful day, and the surrounding peaks of the Front Range were majestic and covered with large patches of snow that constrasted nicely with the colors of the various exposed minerals on their flanks. The slopes were very green and covered with a profusion of wildflowers after the heavy rains that drenched Colorado back in June. I pretty much had the entire trail to myself except for the squirrels who cussed me out loudly as I passed by.

I stopped for a quick snack back at my car, then headed right back up the lift. This time I took Long Trail to where it connected with a couple of expert runs: Lonesome Whistle and Lower Arapaho. Lonesome Whistle went without a hitch, but I did my first endo on Lower Arapaho when my front tire stuck in a patch of sand on a switchback. I went flying ass over teakettle, and landed on my side. I scraped off a good bit of skin on my right forearm, barked my shin, and nicked up my right knee. It stung like hell, and my arm looked like ground beef, but I was up on my feet again almost immediately. At that point, I realized that I was a dumbass for not bringing my padded gloves with me, as the heels of my palms were deeply bruised and filled with splinters from brushing against a log on my way down. My bike suffered no apparent damage, and despite my injuries, I made it back to base without further incident.

By this time, the clouds were beginning to gather at the summit, and I figured that I'd better try to squeeze in one more run before the inevitable afternoon thunderstorm rolled in. I took the lift up one last time, and headed over to the most challenging run at the resort, Mountain Goat. The trail was quite technical; covered with boulders, and crisscrossed with treacherous tree roots. Rock-hopping has never been my strong suit, so after a couple of hairy near-calamities, I decided that I'd better walk the bike down until I got to a flatter section. After a few minutes it levelled out, so I hopped back on my bike and immediately got my front tire stuck in a tree root! I endo'ed again, but this time I basically wound up doing a handstand and springing back onto my feet, so other than some further bruising of my already aching hands, I did no damage.

Now I was starting to bonk, and the muscles in my lower back and butt were on fire from standing up on the pedals while crossing the rough terrain. Fortunately, my seat was well padded and had a prostate vent, so I could sit without doing any harm to my manly nether regions, although I did a bit of 'rhoid-buffing while trying to keep my center-of-gravity over the rear wheel on the steeper downhill runs.

As I continued down, it began to rain hard. I was in the trees, and my biking clothes are designed for quick drying, so I didn't get terribly wet. Within a few minutes, the rain stopped, and my shirt was completely dry about 5 minutes later. The rest of the journey down was uneventful, and I arrived back at the bike shop around 3pm, giving me a solid 5 hours of some of the best mountain biking that I've ever done. I was exhausted, but very, very happy.

I returned to my friends' condo and capped a most excellent day with some barbequed New York strip steaks, asparagus, garlic bread, and a magnificent bottle of 1999 Muga Rioja Gran Reserva.