It Begins
On Tuesday, James and I had a massive day in Boulder.
It started with soloing the 2nd Flatiron with my friend and compatriot Gareth Richards. Gareth is a legend in outdoor retail; he also has a similar background in Welsh outdoor education and US university programs to mine. He beat me out here by a few years and was instrumental in convincing me to take the leap of faith and jump on a plane. So who better to help me share my origin story for the film? I love spending time with Gareth; few others truly understand our journey from a parochial backwater to the vast landscapes we now frequent. We laugh, we love to be outside, and inevitably we reminisce. It is always a good time.
Two Welshmen and a rock in CO.
Next up was breakfast. We had been up since the sparrows farted to ensure being at Chautauqua for sunrise. I, for one, was tired, hungry, and hot. So AC and a cooked meal, the kind I hardly ever buy, was a treat and a chance for us to chat about where we saw the project heading and what we wanted from it. This film is in itself an enormous adventure for me. Especially when I contemplate my definition of adventure: the feeling you gain from an uncertain outcome. I am genuinely feeling this, and it is making me come alive.
We had some time, so we squeezed in a video review of my bike. One of the things I have loved about the project is that when I tell people about it, they want to help us breathe life into our message. One of the companies I approached, Decathlon, offered a bike to use. I was particularly excited by this because while I have since been offered more expensive bikes, I feel one of our central messages is that adventure is for everyone. I do not want to distract from this by using equipment that is out of the reach of most people. This is one of the concepts I would love to broach if we gain funding to make a series. Adventure should not be a privilege; it should be accessible to all. Preach.
The next stop was Skratch Labs. If I could say nothing else about Skratch, they make the best hangover cure known to man! However, they are so much more; built on science and training major national and international cycling teams, they have developed a range of sports nutrition and hydration products that are simple, nutrient-rich, and work. I have quietly followed them for a decade and always wanted to talk to Allen Lim, one of their founders and the figurehead. Finally, we got to interview him, and the insight, humor, and compassion I was led to believe we would experience were very apparent.
Seeing the footage starting to be collected was a massive high. I have been contemplating making a video for a long time, and for some reason, I always doubt myself. Is the story worthy? Am I the best person to tell it? Will anyone be interested? Will the effort be worthwhile? Will it make a difference? These are the questions and doubts that haunt me. Today, I let go and left myself to trust my fate. It is scary and exhilarating, and I hope we catch this feeling in our video. Climbing without a rope today was a beautiful analogy for what we are doing. Once upon a time, I used to do it a lot, but I have not climbed much since Cai was born, and the last route I did was in Wales three years ago and roped. Sure the Second Flatiron is relatively easy, but I could not depend on recent familiarity; I had to trust my instincts and ancient muscle memory. How many of us allow ourselves to become shadows of our former selves, allowing other people and situations to author our story? Giving into the perceived pressure of career, parenthood, and relationships to only lose sight of who we were. I am certainly guilty of this, and one of the most delightful components of our project is that I am showing myself that I can regain the authorship of my own biography.
Heady stuff, indeed.
The day was not yet over as we had a meeting with Pearl Izumi and their PR Company, Backbone Media. PI had agreed to kit me out for the Mt Evans ride, and they were gathering cycling journalists to go for a ride and preview the new Fall 2022 catalog. To say I was out of my depth is a vast understatement. I have described myself wearing a nice kit as looking like a cyclist, only fatter. When I started getting out on the road bike, I realized a more accurate description is that I now look as if I have gone up 17 tax brackets and joined the old man spandex club. In all seriousness, I do love how many old guys I see out cycling in Colorado. The team was kind enough to not drop me in a blur of spinning, solid calves and steely buttocks. However, I couldn’t help but feel like the recently adopted circus freak. They seemed to get a kick out of my story; fat old git gets off the couch and attempts to ride up Mt Evans. I certainly appreciated all their support, and I learned a lot while visiting the pain cave on a gravel road etching a tortuous zig-zag course up the back of Flagstaff Mountain. My big rides have been made possible by keeping my heart rate low and eating as if I wish to impress a sumo wrestler. As my heart blew out of my mouth while gasping at the apex of yet another switchback, I realized I had to heed Allen’s wisdom. I have to ask myself who I am doing this for and why and know it is not a race. Thanks for the ego check, Allen.
Sitting around after the ride, enjoying the company, and recognizing that I love being with outdoor people, I was content. I was happy to be adopted by a bunch of kind strangers who wanted to see me succeed. Who wanted to see their joy of cycling realized by others.
This journey, both physical and cerebral, keeps getting better. Allons-y.