Day 44: Boulder, Colorado: "Century, Centennial"

Colorado! Whoa! I'm so excited to be out here and I have so so so so so much to report! I gotta start by finishing up my report of Kansas, though.

Our last day/night in Kansas was a really great one. Really. The ride from Oberlin to St. Francis was beautiful and made all the better by the fact that I was sweeps that day, so I was forced to take it slow and chill, and got to spend the whole morning discussing life with Christina. We made sure to stop for coffee and ice cream at every chance we got and told life stories. The ride itself was very cruisy with nary a headwind, and we made it to the Methodist church in St. Francis with plenty of time for a powerful nap.

The night in St. Francis was equally great, starting with the best spaghetti we've had on the whole trip. Period. It reminded me a lot of my grandma's recipe so I think it struck a chord with my inner child, but it was gooooood. The pastor was also very friendly and one of the members of the congregation brought her 5 year old daughter and 2 year old son, so naturally as soon as I was done eating I joined them in a rousing game of "run around the room screaming" while I acted like a dinosaur. I have loved my experience with BNB, as I hope is evidenced by this blog, but I've also been missing the chance to work with kids. I was a camp counselor for the last three summers prior to this trip, and I have to say it's been the most rewarding work in my life. Seeing those kids grow up has been a privilege, and I sincerely hope they're all doing well.

Anyways, I realize I promised an explanation in the last update as to the nature of the Brolympics. Right. Here goes. There are some serious bromances on this trip, i.e., friendships between the dudes on this trip that border on the creepy and inappropriate. Dave and Mark do raps together, Jesse and I constantly make Top 5 lists and throw obscure quotes in each other's direction, Andy and Jesse Young ride fast, Joe and Will have been best friends since their freshmen year of college, and Noah and Zach are our token cool west coast guys. The team, growing very aware of these budding bromances, naturally got to talking about which one was the best. Thus, the Brolympics were devised; a series of manly competition between bros spanning from now to the trip's end. The events we have lined up are nothing short of absurd. I can't wait to tell you about them, but I'll report them as they come out.

Our first event, in St. Francis, was a round of "Browling" at the Cheyenne Bowl, which was kind enough to offer the entire team free unlimited bowling. Working as teams the event's winner would be determined from the score. Jesse and I finished in a solid 5th place. It wasn't pretty, and it was doubly embarrassing when Jesse Y and Andy, showing up 2 hours late to the event, doubled our score in their first game. I'm not terribly concerned though. The summer is long, and there were many great moments. Zach and Noah dancing to Boston's "More Than A Feeling", for example, made the fact that they were killing us a complete non-issue.

Returning home I climbed into bed and spent most of the night tossing and turning for what was to come next. Colorado. At one point merely an idea, it was finally really coming. The Centennial State. The Rocky Mountains. The Hippies. The Best State In The Entire Union (with Kentucky being the best Commonwealth).

We jumped on our bikes the next morning all itching to leave Kansas behind and cross a state line. We put 20 miles behind us in know time and soon enough we were all stopping for pictures at the "Welcome to Colorful Colorado!" state sign. I was s giddy I hugged the sign and just kind of squealed for a few minutes. We took an inappropriate amount of pictures and then got back to humming.

Here's how perfect ths state is. Almost as if nature herself were rolling out the welcome wagon, we got our first tailwind in weeks. Without any effort we were blowing across the highway at 25 mph, laughing, living, and loving where we were. It was still just as flat as Kansas, but we could feel the very vibe in the air changing.

We spent that night in Anton, Colorado, population 40. Forty. Four-zero. Literally in the middle of no where. For real, it would've been borderline farcical were I not seeing it with my own eyes. The church was surrounded in all directions by Nothing. Eventually the fields just stopped and the sky started. It was quiet, but truly powerful in it's utter emptiness. I never knew that a place like that could actually exist.

The congregation was very sweet and I'm starting to learn something: The population of a town is inversely related to the size and quality of the free meal we get. Much like way back in Marlinton there was more food than could be fit inside my field of vision, and I chowed down on pork as I talked about the history of the land and the industry with some of the old farmers who ate with us. After dinner we all gathered outside to watch the sunset, which was truly breathtaking. There are a few pictures on facebook but they really don't do the scene justice: all of us lined out on the road, staring out to the West, not a worry in the world and nothing to enjoy but each other's company. It was the spirit of Bike & Build defined, and it's an image I'll carry in my heart for a long time.

We all opted to call it an early night to get good sleep for the ride into Denver the next day. That day and ride wound up being one of the most emotional of my entire life, and I'll now proceed to break it down for you.

It started with Bon Jovi. Sharif's iPod started blaring at 5am, and we all were pulled from our sweet sweet REM sleep. There was a brief moment in which you could feel the anxiety and fear in the room. That day would be our first 100+ mile ride, across harsh terrain. Motivation was slow to come for all of us, save for Mark, who immediately sprung out of his bag and yelled "Denver!!!" This immediately changed the entire Team's mood. We all sprung up and started singing "Half Way There" in our groggy voices, getting ourselves ready for the day an the task at hand.

After a modest breakfast we all went outside for our pre-ride route meeting, and were greeted by our leaders, who insisted we all lined up. From behind the van Sharif appeared, his unitard stretched over him like a toga, as some epic music, akin to the soundtrack of Braveheart, blared from the van speakers. Sharif read a speech full of cliches to get us pumped. By god if it didn't work. "100 is just a number, a number is just a limit, and perfection has no limitations!"

Jazzed and ready to ride out of Anton and into Cowtown I hopped on the road with Jen, Alyson and Jesse. We were immediately greeted by 5 miles of cold unforgiving headwind to get back onto the highway which would lead us to Denver. Our legs immediately had their work cut out for them, but we made it and enjoyed being in a simple 15-mph crosswind once we got back onto highway 36. The sky ws finally turning from orange to blue, and we were already pushing across the plains to glory.

That's when I got a flat.

I can't describe my frustration. This flat not only through me off what little groove I had, but it left me alone on our longest ride. Sweeps eventually shoed up, helped my replace the tube, and I managed to get to first lunch just before the bonking set in. Since I was next to last, I helped myself to all the food scraps, because I knew calories would be precious that day. Cold baked beans, potato chips, honey, pickles, candy, cereal, cookies, all of these fund their way into my stomach. I wanted warrior's strength. I wanted to ride like a champ into Denver.

I rolled out of lunch with confidence but this soon was blown away by the wind and the loneliness. I allowed the sinkin' thinkin' to sink in. I questioned whether I could really do what I was doing for 75 more miles. It was hot, I was thirsty, I was tired, I was working across an endless sea of rolling hills, I was breathing in the dust kicked up from the tractors, I had a horrendous headwind that refused to show me any mercy, and, worst of all, I was alone. I felt weak and scared and as powerless as I've ever felt on this trip. I only kept going because I knew I had to, but the reasons as to why i had to were fading fast. I toyed with the idea of giving up. I started getting mad at myself, at my circumstances, at the higher powers that be which led me out to that patch of windy hot dusty flat to fight alone.

Utterly alone. I was at my breaking point.

And then I saw the Rockies.

In an instant everything changed. I crested a hill which had been chalked with a giant arrow and the word "Look!" Over the horizon I finally saw a blue outline of the beautiful mountain line. To the north I saw snow and to the south I saw the blue fading into that majestic pewter gray. And I wept. I wept as I rolled down the other side of that hill because that was one of the greatest sights of my entire life. It was as if God had made good on a promise made long ago. It was tangible physical evidence that my effort and sacrifice meant something. It filled my heart with absolute joy to see those mountains, and it filled me with the intense desire to continue moving, to see what secrets and adventures they held and, eventually, what lay West of them. In an instant I was recharged. I rolled over those foothills with tears in my eyes and a smile in my heart. I reflected on how far I'd really come, and how far I will go. It was truly a special moment in my life, and the best part is that it could only be enjoyed at that level *because* I was riding by myself. It was a gift.

2 miles before second lunch I caught up with Jesse. He was in a bad way and was not interested in moving another inch. On the other hand, at this stage, I was overjoyed to share my enthusiasm with someone, and got him to move with me. We made it to lunch, refueled, and rededicated ourselves to the ride and to doing something we never thought we could do, over 100 miles in one day. That afternoon was filled with our usual report. We discussed best Disney movies, plans for Denver, and our hopes for the Bike & Build prom which is fast approaching.

Before we knew it we saw the Denver skyline. We rolled into the city and triumphantly pounded back icecream bars on the steps of our hosting church. Dinner with the congregation totally rejuvenated us, and that first night was spent with Bike & Build alums who lived in the city. The entire team was thrown a house party and we all celebrated accordingly. What had gone from one of the lowest points in my life ended in a night of unbridled celebration and excitement for Denver. Before bed we hit up a bar called Sputnik for Second dinner, and a beautiful waitress served me fries and green chili. Life was grand.

And it proceeded to get grander. The next day in Denver was *technically* a day off, but doubled up as a fundraiser for Bike & Build. The first of its kind. A woman named Donna Lynch, involved with the Colorado Affordable Housing Coalition, had organized a lunch and series of talks for us, hosted by Breckenridge Brewery in downtown Denver. This was followed by a ride around town on Denver's amazing public bicycles, in which we took tours of various Housing projects across town and soaked in the sights. Coorsfield, the bike trail along the Platte river, and a happy hour back at Breckenridge to finish up the day, in which I gorged myself on a free bottomless supply of buffalo wings.

The talks given by the guests at the fundraiser were incredible. A woman named Joanie, who was reduced to homelessness by her abusive ex-husband, gave an incredibly inspirational testament to the programs which helped her. A gentlemen named Chris Parr, director of Denver's affordable housing effort, gave a talk on the city's efforts which left me inspired, excited, and truly ensured that, not only is this a worthy cause to pedal for, but the right resources, people, and level of hard work can really pay off. I also had the privilege of eating with a woman named Sarah who served as a lobbyist for the affordable housing coalition. She was full of sass and passion. Her eyes had fire in them and she was so well spoken that I was, for once in my life, utterly silenced and simply engaged in listening. People can make a difference. I'm certain. It happens all the time. All it takes is hope and effort.

Dinner was immediatley followed by a trip to buy new bike things, with priority one being better tires, because I'm done catching flats right before I hit big cities. I traveled back across town by myself and did some people watching, reflecting on the future and how exciting it would be to call Colorado home one day.

Later that evening as I was doing repairs on my bike I had the pleasure of catching up with my friend and former camp counselor, Jeff. He's been really supportive of my efforts and, since he lives in Colorado, he wanted to visit and congratulate me in person. It was a treat. He wants to visit when we camp in Kremmling on the 4th and since this entry is already stupidly long I'll elaborate on him later.

So that was our time in Denver, and as if that wasn't good enough, next came Boulder. We rode a beautiful bike trail out of Cowtown and were all mutually stunned by the view of the Flatirons as we enjoyed an easy roll into Boulder. I immediately celbrated by hunting down a giant burrito with friends.

Later on I had the chance to meet up with my Aunt Kate, Uncle Dave, and cousin Jeanne, my exquisite Boulder family. They were kind enough to take me out on the town, which began first with an exploration of Pearl street and all that's good. If nothing else the performances all along the street were amazing. A woman named Hazel Miller, a local town favorite, sang gospel and soul and channeled Aretha Franklin. We soaked in the sound and I enjoyed my first live music in lord knows how long. We then hit up Rio, a restaurant with an amazing view of the Flatirons, and I scarfed down a bowl of green chile as I caught up on life with the fam.

Right as i was being dropped off the team started heading out to Pearl so I figured it was good enough to do twice and was certainly not disappointed. I saw a man break out of a straight jacket, saw another perform nothing short of miraculous magic with juggling balls, sat in on an acoustic performance of a few Beatles songs, and people watched in front of a 5-man drum-circle. Raleigh described Boulder as like a never-ending music festival with paved roads and buildings instead of tents and I must concur. There was even the iconic gorgeous hippie girl with a flashing neon hula hoop.Scientific fact: this town is filled with a dangerously high concentration of women who I would date without knowing anything about them. And next to her an old man in a tie dye shirt dancing with his walking stick. Next to him a father in dreadlocks playing with his daughter, named Evening Star. Boulder. Pure Boulder.

And that leads us to today, which was a fabulous Build Day with the Flatiron Habitat affiliate. We worked on a quadplex in the northside of town and I spent the day putting bracers on walls and rocking the nail gun. I worked alongside a man named Max, a charming Brazilian dude who kept apologizing for his English, which was a million times better than my Portuguese. The foreman, a man named Phil, gave a presentation that beautifully broke down Habitat and it's efforts. Like m lunch with Sarah, I could have listened to him speak for hours. He was engaging, excited, full of great information and answers, and made me believe in what I was doing. he also had a great voice, like a lion's, if it could speak.

I met up again with Uncle Dave afterwards. We explored Boulder along the public bike paths then went back to his home for a visit with everyone else, and a desperately needed shower for me. I hit the town with Kate, Dave, Jeanne and my cousin Matt and we, again, discussed life and all of the exciting things it has to offer. I was also treated to some remarkable sushi alongside the great conversation. Truly delicious. And their company out here is a true blessing. Seeing familiar faces utside the BNB bubble is a true treat, and it challenges me to remain aware of the goal I've commited myself to accomplishing. Much as I love Boulder, folks are counting on me to keep moving.

With that being said it is way past bedtime. Tomorrow we begin working our wa into the mountains. It will test my metal, and it probably won't be terribly pretty, but I'm ready to jump in with both feet.

Go Colorado.