The start of the June Lake Loop.
Jon and Aimee in the snow at the Vista en route to work.So normally we'd be getting into trouble on some snowfield somewhere in the Sierra by now. However, barefoot ultimate has proven to be more of a life changing event than I initially thought possible almost a year ago. This week? Adventures with a bone scan. Something about bone spurs and cartilage damage... But when life gives you lemons...
You ride your bike.
An uneventful, but pleasant ride, the June Lake Loop was 22 miles of up and down and up and down and surely up again. But more eventful was when Jon and Aimee and I decided to ride our bikes to work in the snow. It wasn't snowing when we started, but 1000 vertical feet later (not to mention we were up at 530am for this scheme) it started snowing. The best quote of the trip was Aimee, "Crap, that's ice!" as her back tire went into a skid heading up the hill. I won't go into the details of the trip down, but lets just say 1500 vertical of icy wind from a 35mph bike leads to frozen parts. Brrrrrrr!
Yesterdays ride was almost as cold, but sunny -- no snow.... The sweet part was when at 430pm, we decided to ride back up the steep winding road 13 miles back home. Normally, we ride down and get a ride home. Ah, ambition. Out of food, already ridden 13 miles in the morning, such a good idea. About half way up, my stomach started eating itself, I'm pretty sure. Jon ate all my emergency snacks. You know, the granola bar that now looks like a tootsie roll from having sat in some obscure pocket of your pack for 4 months? The flavor you don't really like, but will only eat in an emergency? Yep. Eaten. So after about 1000 feet of climbing we both stopped at a pull out to assess our decision making skills. This, of course, did us no good, as we were now in it to win it. We only had 500 feet to go. Just ignored the lactic acid buildup in our quads.
Shortly thereafter, we made it to the summit and started the chilly decent to the house, hoping that dinner was at least started when we got home. Sweet. Chicken Chili, Chips and Salsa, and best yet, an ice cold pint of Black Butte Porter. I forgave Jon immediately for eating all my emergency snacks, despite the cursing on the way up.
The moral of this story? There really isn't a good one. Just hide your snacks, plan ahead, and make sure there's beer in your fridge.
