‘It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them. Thus you remember them as they actually are, while in a motor car only a high hill impresses you, and you have no such accurate remembrance of country you have driven through as you gain by riding a bicycle.’ ~Ernest Hemingway

I purchased my first mountain bike 13 years ago when we moved back to Colorado. It was love at first sight. I couldn’t wait to take it for a ride. My first ride was on the streets in my neighborhood. It was like flying. The wind in my hair as I flew down the hill past houses, parked cars, children playing, dogs barking. It was amazing. I was in love. But then it was time to head back home. As I made a u-turn to make my way back, I could see the hill staring down at me, almost laughing at me. I didn’t let it intimidate me, I stood up on my pedals and started pedaling as fast and as hard as I could. If I was going to make it back home, I needed to get a good start. So far, so good. I made it past two houses before my legs started burning, my heart started pounding. My pedaling became slower and slower. I was breathing so hard that I couldn’t speak. I could feel my face getting red. Soon it was too difficult to pedal; I had stopped moving. I put a foot down to catch myself from falling over. Had I made a bad choice? Was I not cut out for biking? As I walked my bike back to my house, many discouraging thoughts passed through my mind. I had to decide what I was going to do. Then I thought of my best friend. He would be waiting at home to hear how my ride went. That’s when I knew I couldn't give up.

Needless to say, I got back on my bike. Each day I rode, it not only became easier, it became more fun. I discovered that there is much more to riding a bike than just pedaling. There is so much adventure to be had. We spent the summer exploring everything there is to seen by bike in and around our neighborhood. We rode through tall grasses, along creek banks, we even found a homemade pump track. I felt like a kid again. We only had Saturdays to ride together but I spent everyday riding on my indoor trainer just so that I could get stronger and be ready to explore when Saturday came.

It’s been 13 years, 3 bikes and 2 more kids since that first daunting ride/walk up the hill. We have explored hundreds of miles of trails together. We’ve been all over the Colorado foothills, the Rocky Mountains, Moab’s Slick Rock, through tall Sequoias in the high Sierras of California, down fast single track after a leisure lift ride to the top. We've experienced mud, snow, ice, sand, boulders, roots, streams and horse manure. I’m not sure there is anything we haven’t experience on our bikes but if there is, I plan on finding it, with my best friend.

Ryan,

Thank you for the best 19 years of my life. Thank you for always encouraging me and never giving up on me (and for changing my tires.) Thank you for always being there, excited to hear how my ride went.

I love you more than you can ever know.

Here's to many more years of adventure and mud. mmmm, mud.