I am looking through a tunnel of light filled with sparkles when I hear a voice. I hear it again and realize it is addressing me. The tunnel widens and I remember that I am standing over my bike on the top of Mt. Evans and that I just had the brilliant idea to sprint through the last switchback and into the parking lot at 14,130 feet above sea level. As my hypoxia dissipates, I see a child standing in front of me. “What,” I say, assuming the voice came from him. “Do you need a special kind of bike to ride up here,” he asks, a bit impatiently this time. “No,” I say. “You just need to be a special kind of crazy,” I tell him as I fumble for my wind breaker.

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tags: colorado | Mt. Evans | road cycling