Colorado’s Ride the Rockies: Common Questions, Honest Answers
When returning home from a week of riding through the Rocky Mountains — which I’ve done seven times now — I am inevitably bombarded with questions about Ride the Rockies from family and friends. Interest in the ride has become so intense that I joke about inviting everyone I know to a post-ride press conference to answer questions and recount my adventures one time and one time only. Now, however, I’ve been granted an opportunity far better than a family press conference: a few column inches in which to address several of the questions I’m most frequently asked.
More than anything, family and friends want to know if Ride the Rockies is hard.
Well, of course it is. But just like any other endeavor, Ride the Rockies requires a foundation of preparation to make success possible. I’m talking about training, riding one’s bicycle. Those who do well on Ride the Rockies have different ways of preparing for the ride, but all have one thing in common — they ride regularly in the months preceding the tour.
I sometimes feel foolish for even mentioning the necessity of regular riding, because it seems so obvious. Yet this assumption is not always a safe bet: Several years ago, a casual acquaintance decided to participate in Ride the Rockies after hearing my tales of mountain adventures the year before. Full of enthusiasm and proudly sporting a new bicycle, this young guy made it to Durango for the tour’s 1992 send-off. But halfway up the day’s first major climb — Coal Bank Pass — he angrily tossed his bike into the ditch and quit the ride in frustration. Never to be seen or heard from again, he apparently thought Ride the Rockies was easy and required no training whatsoever.
A related incident took place in Greeley near the end of the 1990 ride. As I set up my “campsite” in the University of Northern Colorado gymnasium, a rider fresh off his bicycle walked in and let his pack of belongings crash to the floor. In a moment he unrolled his sleeping bag, flopped down upon it, and promptly fell asleep. That evening, after dinner with friends and a trip into town, I returned to the gym and noticed that the man had not moved an inch; he was still napping and still wearing his riding garb. He had obviously done some training in order to get this far, but he was now fatigued beyond exhaustion.
Yes, Ride the Rockies is a challenging event. And while a preoccupation with conditioning can certainly take the fun out of the ride, a little training before the tour will almost guarantee a pleasurable and memorable experience from start to finish.
“Which rides were your favorites?” I’m often asked.
That’s easy: 1990, 1994, and 1997. Why? The 1990 ride was special because it was my first Ride the Rockies. Thrown into a non-stop spectacle of color, excitement, and activity, I enjoyed the experience immensely and knew I wanted to do it again.
In 1994, after many miles of training, I happily found myself fully recovered from knee surgery. The members of my tour group got along unusually well, truly enjoying one another’s company.
And in 1997 I was in excellent shape, which helped me conquer what is arguably the toughest day in Ride the Rockies history: the push over Colorado’s Grand Mesa. My first “solo” Ride the Rockies — a rare seven-day tour — passed through several Western Slope towns I had never visited.
Not surprisingly, discussing my favorite rides soon leads to questions about the tours I consider the most challenging. Many are astonished to discover that my answer has more to do with factors outside the tours than with the length or topography of the rides. Three examples are 1991, 1993, and 1995: A full-time college student in 1991, I was blessed with time to ride more than 300 miles a week. Although I was in the best shape of my life during Ride the Rockies, my achievement was tainted by a week-long struggle with diarrhea.
The 1993 route presented a number of rigorous climbs, including Ride the Rockies’ first jaunt over Trail Ridge Road and the one-day trek over Battle Mountain, Tennessee Pass, and Fremont Pass. Constant disagreements between friends, however, did more to damage my disposition that I ever thought possible.
Colorado’s infamous soggy spring of 1995 — during which it rained nearly every day of April and May — made consistent, regular training impossible. Overweight and out of shape, I completed Ride the Rockies with a new respect for the event.
In spite of these trials and self-imposed tribulations, I enjoyed all three tours and learned a number of invaluable lessons: First, eat properly. Nothing can impact a ride like gastrointestinal problems. Stay as close to one’s normal diet as possible. For me this means avoiding pop and drinking an occasional glass of milk. Second, if traveling as part of a group, don’t give in to petty bickering. Ride the Rockies is not the time or place to prove you’re right or fight to get your own way. Turn the other cheek, forsake your pride, and hold your tongue. You’ll thank yourself for it later. Third, train at all costs. If you don’t, you’ll quickly find that your vacation has become an exercise in labor, rather than a labor of love. As Tour Director Paul Balaguer often says, “Unless you plan on spending the entire week nursing a sore fanny and quads, ride your bike.” It’s good advice.
“What’s it like traveling with over 2,000 people?” many want to know.
In a few words, people are what Ride the Rockies is all about. From the riders to the ride’s staff members to the volunteers in the ride’s host towns, people make Ride the Rockies the special event it is. Get people away from the day-to-day hustle, bustle, and chaos we call life and you’re pleasantly surprised to discover just how kind, considerate, helpful, and generous people can be. Most are also extremely friendly, and it’s not unusual to strike up conversations and make friends without even trying. In Salida in 1994, for example, I ended up in the high school’s cafeteria well past midnight eating cake and talking with the delightful Pat Brooks, Salida’s city manager and former mayor. A host of memorable people have crossed my path through Ride the Rockies, and I met one of my close friends on my first ride in 1990.
That 1990 tour, by the way, was when I took far too many pictures of scenery and not enough of people. Later, the scenery shots meant almost nothing to me — I couldn’t even recall when and where most were taken — while the few people pictures captured everything I valued and remembered most about the ride. Take it from me, photos of friends and acquaintances will preserve and document a Ride the Rockies tour in ways that pictures of Colorado’s breathtaking vistas cannot.
Although I quickly learned what and what not to take pictures of, it took a bit longer to truly appreciate the social aspect of the event. In 1991, with hundreds of springtime miles behind me, I was anxious to test my mettle on Ride the Rockies. Oh, I passed the test: I was the first or second person in the gym each day, enjoying empty showers and my choice of camping locations. And I proved, at least to myself, that I could indeed ride with the “big boys.” But because I chose to focus solely on performance and rocket from one town to another, all I really recall about the riding portion of the ’91 tour are the black tires of the riders in front of me and the white lines on the shoulders of the roads beneath me (not exactly the stuff memories are made of). More unfortunately, though, I sacrificed one of the most important and satisfying parts of the ride — interacting with fellow riders on the road.
Once more, people are what Ride the Rockies is all about. Eight years ago I foolishly disregarded this simple truth. Think twice before doing the same.
“After six straight days of riding, are you glad to reach the tour’s end?”
Absolutely not. Even though I’ve pushed and pounded my body, I always find myself in remarkably good condition — stronger than at the tour’s start — and ready to do the ride over again! I find, in fact, that the week passes far too quickly; it’s often gone in the blink of an eye. Just when I’m finally into the swing of things, and looking forward to 80-mile excursions dotted with climbs, the tour is over.
There’s an emotional letdown at ride’s end, to be sure. Not only are you separating from 2,000 likeminded individuals with a common goal and parting with friends you may not see for another year, you’re also headed back to your place in the real world. I can only speak for myself, but the longest, steepest day of Ride the Rockies, to put a twist on a familiar bumper sticker, is better than the best day working. After a week of riding through the Rocky Mountains, the return to reality can seem like cruel punishment.
So there you have it: a few of my thoughts in response to some of the questions I’m often asked about Ride the Rockies. And though only opinions, I sincerely hope that what little I’ve shared is helpful to Ride the Rockies rookies while at the same time striking familiar and entertaining chords with Ride the Rockies regulars. Until next year, when I’ll have yet another chapter of Ride the Rockies under my belt, I bid all a safe and highly eventful 1999 tour.
Above piece written in 1999 for The Denver Post.
