Forgive my absence. I am now, ahem... a working man. Preparing my life for a future family comes first. That has left less time for blogging. I will be reworking my blogging schedule, and try to arrange  for more consistent posts, if not so frequent. (Maybe only once a week now.) Now sit back and enjoy the post...

Try to think of the most grueling physical exertion you can imagine, and then multiply that by a factor of ten. Now multiply it again. That is what riding a mountain bike up Mount Diablo is like…

A few weeks ago a member of our church, who just so happens to be my boss, and my brother were discussing riding to the top of Diablo. They have been on other trips together, but with my school schedule such as it was, I had never been able to accompany them.

 Now that I am a graduate, with all the time in the world on my hands, my boss said, “You are going.” Like a good little soldier, I saluted, and said, “Yes, sir!” Little did I know that this was to be one of the most torturous events known to man; even making the Trail of Tears look like a Yosemite day-hike.

We drove to the base of our adversary, the mountain, watching it loom ever larger as we approached. When you see a mountain from a distance, there is a certain “cuteness” that accompanies its apparent miniature status, but when you are sitting at the bottom, looking up at that which you must surmount, the cuteness has entirely worn off. I am not saying that what the Israelites did was right, but I can empathize with them. They leave Egypt, head for the Promised land confident as can be (Well, mostly…). I am sure news of the Canaanites had shown up in Egyptian newspapers, and the Nation of Israel had to know that these people they were going to fight were not about to qualify for any pygmy pageants… Unlike the Chosen Nation, I stood at the base of my obstacle, uttered a brief prayer for safety and success, and headed off with our party.

Before leaving I was forced by the other members of my riding group to remove the luggage rack on the back of my bike:

I wrote a tribute to the occasion.

Ode to the Death of a Rack

There was a piece of metal,

Attached beneath my seat.

When carrying things about the town,

It simply can’t be beat.

But when up on mountain trail,

Others this equipment spy.

Their looks of censure and reproach,

Make you wish to die.

It was told me, in definite terms,

Racks label the rider a geek.

And so I remove my faithful rack,

With a look unsure and meek.

Forgive my betrayal, O faithful rack,

As I lay you down to rest.

Our parting is painful, that is true;

But it is surely for the best.

I was a bit hopeful of God’s blessing on this venture, considering that the we consisted of a Pastor, an Elder, a PK (Pastor’s Kid), and my brother and I. When riding up a mountain with a name like Diablo, it is a good idea to have a few members of the clergy around…

The ride up was torturous. For those of you familiar with the Tour de France, there is a stage called the Alpe d’Huez, which is one of the hardest climbs in the race. What we were riding up was the same as the hardest portions of that climb:

You know it is steep when Carl Schroeder has to get off and push:

The last two miles were simply a steady uphill climb. Not as steep as before, but up, without ceasing. The only reaction that works in this situation is to put the head down, grit the teeth, and go for the top. We all got to the top, exhausted though we were, with me claiming the Polka Dot Jersey. I credit this to my ballet classes, as I am in much better shape since I am dancing three hours a week.

The view from the top was amazing!!! From the top of Diablo you can see around 40,000 square miles. The only mountain where you can see more earth in one sweep of the eyes is Mount Kilimanjaro. Here is the group in front of a small portion of that view.

On the way back down we dealt with the same levels of steepness that we found on the way up. The only difference is that when you are going up it is slow and painful. When going down, the bike tries to gain speed, and if you FALL you are in a great deal of trouble, and will bounce down the hill, gathering bruises and lacerations at every bounce. Happily we all avoided major injury, and made it to the bottom safely.

The funny part was, we had just climbed a 3900’ mountain, with much pain, but successfully; just before getting to the parking lot there was a small hill, with about 100’ of climb. Those last hundred feet was harder than the thousands we had completed only miles earlier. That is how exhausted we were. I shed tears of happiness upon seeing the van…

We dug for that last bit of strength, and indulged in a Victory Pose. Look at those men, with calves of steel!!!!!  (They felt more like rubber at that moment.):

I hear tell that this is going to be an annual event. This thought makes me weak in the legs, but I believe that this reaction should fade by next year. They say that an adventure is simply a trial of the past. With that in mind, this was quite an adventure, one that I would not have missed for the world…

(For another take on the trip, go to my brother's blog; but, don't go before you leave a comment!!!)

Later!