Killing Time In Breck

Earlier this week, I picked up Dave at the Denver airport and we made the two hour drive back to Breckenridge. Our meeting in Denver was bittersweet because I was simultaneously dropping off my wife, Amy, for her return flight to Seattle after a summer of traveling and various on-the-road hi jinx. Without any spousal support, unlike prior bike races, Dave and I would be on our own to support ourselves during the bulk of the race. After a long day in the saddle, it sure is nice to have someone there to bring you a refreshing drink or fill the bathtub with ice for a good soaking. (Lori & Tristan take note here). But I digress. Driving from Denver to Breckenridge was like a trip down memory lane for Dave--who once called Denver his home. It seemed that for every twist and turn on I-70 Dave's memory spewed forth some fabulous tale to recount from his time in Denver: an elk hunt gone dangerously wrong; the time a hippie/drifter (more hippie than drifter) hitched a ride in the canopy of his jeep; his apparent invention of snowboarding; and the time he drove a snowmobile through the Eisenhower Tunnel. After this trip down memory lane, we arrived in Breckenridge without incident. Unpacking, Dave pulled out his KPMG-issued computer and booted up Outlook. Seeing the once familiar screen (you see I haven't been at work for the last two months) my body pulsed with a sense of panic and anxiety upon realizing that I likely had over 2000 emails patiently waiting for me to sort through upon my return. I chided Dave for attempting to work on his vacation. He reminded me I was due back in 10 days. Touche. I retreated to my happy place for a few minutes and emerged a bit anxious in light of the recent brush with Outlook. I suggested we go for a quick hour bike ride to get the legs loosened up rather than sit around the condo and watch the Real Housewives of Miami. I will speak for Dave here by saying that even the slightest uphills caused much discomfort (For him, of course. For me, I just tell my body to deal with the lack of oxygen and it does it. Yes, I'm that disciplined). Despite the altitude, we got in a nice spin and returned to the condo refreshed from the exercise. Day 1 of Dave's acclimatization at 9,600 feet was complete.