What better way to celebrate our illustrious nation's birth than to climb a mighty peak on our bicycles? Our crew set out in the wee hours of the morning on July 4th with heavy hearts because one of our comrades just had all of his bikes stolen... so lame! If you see any sketchy dudes trying to sell Blake's bikes on the street, take them out at all costs — shoot first, ask questions later.
Nonetheless, we soldiered on and tackled the 14,264 ft peak in the cool morning mountain air. As we passed numerous recreational riders, Kiel and Rolf broke away from the pack, heading off to do battle alone in the wasteland above treeline. I hung back and kept a steady tempo in the grupetto, knowing that they weren't a threat to my GC aspirations. After 2:40 (So close to Tommy D's record!) and 7,540 ft of climbing, we reached the summit, where we took some pictures, ate a little food and then got the hell off the peak after watching some nasty clouds roll in and developing mild cases of altitude sickness.
The ride down was fast and furious and was only made better by gorging on Rolf's cookies once we had returned to the car and dismounted from our trusty steeds.
It's a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll...
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