still, we pine for the sultry days of summer. When the balmy warmth of the hearth calls to our minds that same summer heat, our minds wander back to exploits performed free of snow...at the 24 Hours in the Sage, in Gunnison Colorado!Here we paraphrase Anton's words, from the post race email:
"So Andrew says let's enter in the 24hrs in the Sage townie bike category. Sure, but Amber and I have to work that day. So Andrew races from noon Saturday until 9pm when Amber and I finally arrive in Gunnison. It's a full on mountain bike course, with singletrack, descending, rocks, etc.; a 13 mile lap. Andrew did 8 laps, Amber did three laps, Anton did four. On cruiser bikes, with coaster brakes. With two cruisers between the two of us. beautiful riding, night laps with HID headlights (or just generator lights!~sic), listening to coyotes and drunken hecklers egging us on. With horns and bells to respond with. And we won the group townie category (24 hour Townie World Championships. Don't sell it short, son.~sic) Next year there may be more than one group though. Cheers. -Anton"
Did we mention that appropriate attire is de rigueur for this event? Anything less would be uncivilized.
Amber was wearing a red miniskirt and green halter of, perhaps, Hawaiin influence.
I represented with casual shop attire, jeans a and mechanics shirt.
Anton was the anchorman with his ensemble, bringing a sort of euro haute couture slash messenger-chik to the team.Overall, I think we managed to deftly weave the pacific rim aesthetic and Continental charm into something distinctively...PBR.
Honestly though, when tongue is dislodged from cheek, I never thought I'd have this much fun at a 24 hour race again. Having done a number of them, the inescapable fact is that you ride around in circles for a day. This race transcended that, however. We rode old technology, to strip away all pretense, to remind all that each of us came here to challenge ourselves. We passed strangers in the night on dark lamplit singletrack, so to give our new friends someone to chase through the moonlight. We whooped with packs of riders on those swooping trails, reveling in the joy of motion. We created a minor legend. When it was all done, what was it that we had done? What did it matter? We had danced all day. We had danced all night. With our new friends, we raised the bar. All of us together.P.S. Shawn, that's about 105 miles in jeans. On a forty-year old cruiser. I'm still ready for that White Rim bet about Carhartt's. To the victor go the spoils--sixer of Pibber.
