I am spoiled.
Completely and utterly and hopelessly spoiled.
I have singletrack that I can ride from the front door. And when the summer temperatures are overbearing and oppressive and tyrannical, I can drive for a few minutes into the cool shade and crisp air of the mountains and ride unbelievably spectacular trails. But on those days that I feel that the trails nearby are just not adequate, or are “starting to get old” I can make the epic journey to far away Park City, Utah—an entire hour away!—for even more high altitude, amazing, and seemingly unlimited singletrack*. I know. It’s a sacrifice. But one I’m happy to make.
*And in the winter, the same process is repeated, only on skis.
With the Point 2 Point race looming, Park City singletrack has been front and center in my recent weekend binges. Binges that have left me tattered and torn. Sleepy. And hungry. But nonetheless, stronger and more confident going into the final stretch of summer than I can ever remember. It’s ridiculously possible that I am simply setting myself up for a spectacular let-down on race day, but I had the audacity to say—outloud even—that I wanted the 2010 Point 2 Point to be “the race of my life.”
And it just occurred to me, that by writing that here, the possibility of implosion and self-dustruction is only amplified. Exponentially.
But then, who among you is not plotting and planning the same thing?
And so, I ride. If Las Vegas has buffets of prime rib and shrimp, then Park City—and the Wasatch in general—has ones of twisted, fantastic, butterfly-inducing singletrack.
Yeah. I’m spoiled.
And I like it that way.