Ride

how could i not see
after nearly ten years
in this house
that a four-mile pedal east
leads right into
cottonwood groves
tucked along creeks,
sweeping plains with hills
that carry me
roller-coaster style
into the wind,
and a view
on my homeward journey
contrasting the starkness
of yellow prairie
against the jagged peaks
that beckon non-natives
to call Colorado home?

how?
because i didn’t strap on
my helmet,
layer on my bike clothes,
and find the time to
chill-the-bones,
burn-the-muscles,
praise-the-beauty
ride.

Commute

cat’s paws on glass
dented side panel
dash lights that haven’t
worked in five years
bits of wrappings
from kids’ endless
candy expenditures
taped-on headlight
zip-tied bumper
broken visor
windshield crack
of spider-ice
locks and windows
you have to open
by hand
broken cup holders
too small for any drink
radio numbers
you can no longer see.

and you dare ask
how i could layer on
thick butt pad
sports-bra undershirt
two long underwear tops
one long underwear bottom
bike capris
two pairs of socks
two sets of gloves
a bandana, hat, scarf
a helmet and headphones
a saddle bag filled with
lunch and work clothes?

oh.
you missed
the silver sliver of moon
the last star of night
the windless morn
Aurora’s pink fingertips
painting the sky
the top of the hill home
where the curving road
presented its framed picture
of the city skyline
distantly mirrored
by snow-capped fourteeners.

i understand.
you would rather be warm.
i would rather have warmth.

Training for the Iron Horse Bicycle Classic

If you have decided to take the plunge and commit yourself to gaining 6000 feet in elevation while you race the Durango-Silverton train fifty miles to the top of a mountain, follow these steps to have a successful bicycle event.

1. Plan to train for at least fourteen weeks, at least six days a week.
2. Set your alarm for 4:30 a.m. Don’t push the snooze button. Ever.
3. Put on your appropriate bicycle gear. If you are riding on a trainer in your house, you’ll need bike gloves, bike shorts, and a decent pair of sneakers. If you’re riding outside in the winter, wear all of the above and add long underwear, bike pants, two long-sleeved bike jerseys, warmer gloves, a hat, and a helmet.
4. Mount your bicycle and, if you’re riding a trainer, set it for the highest level of resistance, and shift your derailleur to the highest possible gear. If you’re riding outside, map out a course that includes a circle with huge, steep hills in almost all directions.
5. Ride for at least fifteen miles for five days a week, and on the sixth day, ride for twenty-five, twenty-seven, twenty-nine, etc., until you reach fifty on the twelfth Saturday of training.
6. Taper off your training by ten percent between weeks twelve and thirteen so that your muscles have time to rest and build up.
7. In week fourteen, ride only three days for fifteen miles each time.
8. Drive to Durango. You’re ready to climb a mountain!

Fancy

i don’t need a fancy gym or P-90x
i just rode thirty miles with the Vittetoe Express
my bike, tag-along, and a trailer daisy chain
may look to others just a little bit insane

but you’re popping out seven hundred a year
i spent eleven on coffee and cheer
when it’s sixty degrees in January
my legs and arms made a workout fairy

yes, it took six hours to visit the zoo
but i still made a deal better than you
i didn’t sacrifice one moment from my girls
and that beats all the muscles from your fancy curls.

Heat

from pedals that won’t stop
for an hour battle uphill,
dry air pumping out of vents
trying to stave off winter,
muscles taut on my thighs
and hard-as-rocks calves,
the heat emanates,
even after sliding off the bike.

a lukewarm shower rinses
off bits of sweat, but it pops back
on my upper lip, my neck,
before i’ve even finished drying,
a reminder of how hot it will be,
how endlessly the pressure will build
as the heat of a May morning
rides with me to the top of the mountain.

Fifty-Seven

it takes two sisters
four hours to make
three pies
dessert for fourteen people
when we include
two of six aunts
two of seven uncles.
three platters of lasagna
and forty-two plates later
we celebrate
year fifty-seven of
my father’s life
who with two “old” legs
just rode
twenty-four miles up a mountain
and hiked three and a half
and still carries his four grandkids
wherever the
endless numbers add up to next.

Relentless Warrior

The last three
Of twenty-one
I have to stop
Three times.
Breath a luxury
My lungs desire.
Gatorade gone
Wind relentless
And skinny bike chick
Passing me up.

How many months till May?
It’s pedaling up
Faster than i can ride down
This hill that’s kicked
My ass into the gear
Of the relentless warrior.

Snatch

i see the words today
hovering over my early morning
they follow me over snow-dusted streets
and evaporate in a cloud of breath
against the blaring white lights
as haunting as ghosts
as they disappear into the sunrise.

they are mine
and as much as i wish to let them go
i crave to snatch them back
for they are forever on the page
in the realms of all who wonder
what it is i might have to say.

but just as the earth turns
to let in the light of day
my words will remain
where i have chosen for them to be.
and me? i cannot snatch back
the pieces of my soul
that i have offered to the world.

Pedal My Way

with dry, windburned cheeks
and layer upon layer,
my headlamp prominent
as a beacon on my helmet,
i face this winter like no other.

it stands between now and the end,
these hills and my mountain,
and no matter how cold,
no matter the unending wind,
no matter the disapproving glances,
i will pedal my way to a better tomorrow.

Music

the leaves left from fall
dance across our patio,
their crisp skeletal skins skidding
to the howling background hymn.

this same howling harmony
danced across the road today,
beating me down to my bones
as i pushed toward a quieter tune.

trapped inside a fluorescent prison,
i couldn’t quite find the melody
that with a few angry notes
the wind whipped out of me.

perhaps you stand somewhere
on the other side of the sky,
unable to hear the song i sing
amidst the howling, haunting music.