I'm dreaming of a white...

DESERT!?!?!?!!???!!!

Ok, seriously, I've said it before and I'll say it again: MOAB IS NOT A DESERT.

Our great plan to ride the White Rim over two days quickly got, for lack of a better word, stalled.

Thanksgiving was great. Yummy food, great company, happy times. We had a beautiful six hour drive out to Moab where we confidently drove down the Mineral Bottom switchbacks at 11 pm. Being a ginormous wuss, I was a little scared driving down these switchbacks set into a nice giant canyon wall. And it was dry. Luckily, Chris is a great driver and he got our car down safely and we settled in for a nice sleep before waking up at 6 am for our 100 + mile bike adventure.

Yep, me, riding 100+ miles on my mountain bike. And I was actually super excited. We had our gear dialed in -- me carrying a 13 pound pack, Chris's weighing more like 25 pounds. Lots of water, lots of delicious camping/riding food. We had warm clothes -- knowing the weather would be in the 40's, with a 20% chance of precipitation friday morning.

20%. Yeah, just like before the '06 24 Hours of Moab when there was a 20% of rain and we had the downpour of the century. Uh huh.

I woke up to an "OH SH##!" from Chris. I groggily asked if we slept in too late (typical of a Marni trip) and he said "Uhh, no, look outside." I sat up and saw this:Not clear enough? Hmmm. Let's open the door...




Hmmm? Desert? Yeah. Sure.

Now the big decision that we would struggle with for the rest of the trip: Do we try to get out of the canyon? It was a harder decision than you'd think. Afterall, we had enough supplies and warmth and food to get us through at least a week down where we'd parked... probably more. However, as the snow continued to dump in hand sized flakes, we knew the road would only get worse and thus definitely trapping us down there until it melted and then we'd have to outlast the ensuing mud. We also knew that mom had instructions to call the park if we didn't call by Sunday evening... we didn't want her to have to think the worst.

Chris and I rationalized that we'd know shortly up the road whether we'd make it up or not. We started up and the car was doing surprisingly well and the road relatively grippy. So we kept going. And going. This is my face as I tried hard not to freak out and make the situation even worse:
Yeah, we were driving up this -- Chris driving, me screaming on the inside...We made it halfway up the switchbacks and, well, that's where our plans got stuck. After sliding out a few times -- on a road little more than a car's width wide, on one side there's a big rock wall, on the other a 200 ft cliff -- we called our upward mission off. We even slide into the wall at one point which caused this:

We're not complaining though, one slide the other way and there would've been a much more tragic outcome. As we realized that we couldn't drive forward or straight without getting sucked back into the ditch, we made the decision to come up with a new plan. We both freaked out, but luckily at different times, so between the two of us we made the rational decision to stay put. Yeah. A little cockeyed on a slippery canyon road, but a decision nonetheless. I didn't take a picture of the car on the slippery slope for fear it would later haunt me should something bad happen. I feel content with that decision, although the scariness of the situation is hard to imagine without seeing a picture.

To get us out of the situation, Chris made the decision to bundle up, hop on his bike, and head up several miles in pedal deep snow to find some help. We decided that I'd stay with the car. As I watched Chris pedal into the still falling snow, I hoped he'd be back soon and that splitting up wouldn't be a decision we'd regret.

Truthfully, I had a few seconds of wanting to freak out over the situation (to me, it sounded like a Dateline story just waiting to happen), but I ultimately pulled myself together, bundled myself into our down pants and coats and tried to sleep.

I didn't allow myself to look at a clock. I didn't want to know how long Chris had been gone and I didn't want to look down and realize it had only been a few minutes.

I listened to the click of the emergency blinkers and I found a strange comfort in the sound. The way we were perched, I was a little afraid that the car would start sliding and head down the cliff. Irrational fear -- maybe. We propped rocks behind the tires just in case though. Still, any little noise made me think it was the car sliding. So the constant click, pop, click of the lights kept my mind off of the maybes.

Pretty soon I heard a SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL and worried it was some creepy canyon animal. Luckily, it was frozen-Chris. With ice in his "beard" he explained that he'd found some guys in a truck and they had called for help. It could be a while. A few hours? A day? We weren't sure. We settled into the car, pulled out the sleeping bags, and started a game of Travel Scrabble. I'm pretty sure I was losing, so it was good when the sheriff came tapping on our window to walk us out of the canyon.

I can now say I've ridden in the back of a Sheriff's truck on two separate occasions. Neither in Colorado. Both after snowy car "incidents". This time was much better than the last. Still, sitting under some large shotguns was a little unnerving.

Anyway, to make a long story slightly less long, we checked into the good old Super 8...
Showered and ate some Denny's...
Laid our gear out to dry...
And called around for chains. Chris found us some chains, put a call into Moab local Fred W in hopes of getting a ride back up to the car with the chains, and walked to the Napa several blocks away. As luck would have it, Chris ran into some friends from college in the parking lot of the bike shop. They very nicely agreed to take him up to the car and help him get it out (Erin/Shannon etc, if you ever read this, shoot us an email, I owe you girls and Tim and Ari? some freshly baked cookies at the very least). Chris called and told me what was going on and that he was headed back to the car.

I sat nervously in the hotel and did this:Watched an I Love Lucy marathon and a Dog Whisperer marathon...
And shoved my face with Chex "Muddy Buddies". Like half the bag. I was nervous, ok?

After lots of worrying, Chris called saying they'd gotten the car out. YAY! He came home, we relaxed, and then headed off to the Brewery for dinner. Not before seeing that our car had apparently ralphed up some Moab sand in the parking lot though...



So it wasn't 100 miles of riding. But we were really exhausted by the end of the day. Later I'll write about the rest of the weekend -- my first experience on Slickrock and a run-in with apparent food poisoning.

It was quite the weekend.

In the desert.

NOT!

What's your happy place?

Let me preface this post by saying that I love my job. I really do. I love knowing I have some hand in shaping the future. I love the laughs that I experience every day. But seriously, after 31 kids have tapped on your leg to get your attention or you've tied 62 shoes for the tenth time today, you can go crazy.

This week I'm trying to go to my happy place.

While it's not my happy place, I stopped by a Hallmark store on the way home from work and WOW. Something about the peaceful smells, lack of loud sounds, and an abundance of Christmas decorations that completely (for lack of a better phrase) turned my frown upside down. I felt refreshed and I didn't even mind the one hour drive down 3 miles of accident traffic after that. I told the lady that works there that she just might see a lot more of me.

How sad is that?

Also, I am typing this while riding my trainer -- who knew you could start to feel motion sick from riding a bike strapped to a stationary trainer?

Must...

stop...

writing...

Roots

Happy Veterans Day!

I love a day off. Last night my sister-in-law, in hearing that I have today off, remarked that I "picked an easy gig" -- I'm not so sure about that, but I am happy to have the day off! After dealing with 31 rambunctious five, six, and seven year olds all week I think a day off now and then is necessary to my sanity.

Saturday Chris and I headed up Mt. Bierstadt to put 14er number 10 in the bag (with an attempt at #11 which didn't work out)... and our first "wintery" ascent. Who knew a 14er in the middle of November could be so nice? Anyway, I tend to steal the fun trip reports, so I'll leave this one for hubby's blog. We had a great time though!

Here are a few pictures:

Today my dad came up and tore out the last of our bushes that we started tearing out back in July or August. The guy can still swing an axe like it's nobody's business at almost 67 years old. Thanks for your help dad! Turbo and I enjoyed supervising! I also got some homework done (one day this masters will be worth it, but I sure hate doing homework again) and spent a lot of money on groceries.

Life is good.

Barrel of Monkeys

This weekend I had more fun than a barrel of monkeys.

And not even the fake ones.

More fun than a real, giant barrel full of monkeys with diapers, cigars, and unusually large hats... and seriously, what is more fun than that?

Ahhhhh, Fruita. That's what.

This weekend I learned to fly... I scared my legs into uncontrollable shaking at least five times... I fell in love with a bicycle (like, so in love that had there been a judge dressed like Elvis, I'd now have two wedding anniversaries to celebrate)... I had one of the best weekends in my life.

Here are the highlights:

After a cold night camping on Friday night, we woke up and had some delicious hot chocolate and bagel sandwiches. Chris and I noticed that Yeti was handing out '08 demo bikes for people to take on the trails and after much indecisiveness, I finally decided it'd be fun to try out a different bike. I'm glad I decided to go for it, the bike was unbelievably fun!

On Saturday we rode Mary's Loop and Horsethief Bench. The defining moment of the weekend was when I decided to ride down a super steep 15 foot long rock. As I stood at the top, trying to decide whether to ride it or walk it, I saw a small crowd gathering at the bottom to watch people ride down. I also noticed that almost all of the girls around were walking down. I knew I had to go for it. I took a deep breath, said a little prayer, and headed down. I grabbed a little too much back brake and ended up fish-tailing down most of it. Chris stood at the bottom, ready to catch me if I ate it (which was, in all honesty, a good possibility), but I rode it out and stopped at the bottom with shaky legs. Phew.

After this we had a great ride where I rode two or three more obstacles that would normally have me walking. At the end I rode down a series of ledges at a speed that would normally have me nauseous just watching. I felt good. I felt confident in the bike. I must've left my brain back in Denver.


Sunday we rode the 18 Road side of Fruita -- Prime Cut, Joe's Ridge, and Kessel Run. These trails were super fun, lots up quick ups and downs. During this ride I made my legs shake three times -- once coming down a little steep rock where I took in more speed than necessary, once riding down a super skinny ridge with a huge rut down the middle and sharp hills on each side, and my first time getting air off a little rock jump at the end of the day.

The little steep rock was fun, although I took too much speed down and that made for an interesting line. Chris made it look like a piece of cake -- both going down and UP. His bike control and skills still leave me amazed.



Joe's Ridge was, well, a ridge. Whoever Joe was, I don't know... but to be honest, he's not my favorite person in the world. I had been prewarned about this ridge. It took me three or four false starts before actually sucking up the courage to ride it. At one point I was ready to cry and walk it, but I knew I couldn't go through the whole weekend, pushing myself past my own limits so many times and walk this one stupid ridge. So I rode it. Eventually. But the important thing is that I rode it. Then my legs shook.

The last leg-shaking experience was The Jump. My face, in this now infamous picture, is a truly honest expression of fun, shock, and "oh crap"ness. I went a little fast into that jump and scared myself a bit. Then the legs shook. A lot.

So I tried it again. The second time felt a little more controlled.

Chris made it look easy!

After the ride, I reluctantly gave the Yeti back to the Yeti people -- saaaaaaaad -- and we drove home. Neither one of us were ready to get back to work and real life. Flying through the air with two wheels is addicting.

Those darn barrels of monkeys.

Go Beyond!

2007 has been a great year for Chris and I. We're planning some really fun adventures and races for 2008 and checking out some new gear for the efforts. Beyond Clothing is sponsoring all types of athletes next year and lots of their gear would be awesome for us. They've got a wide range of options and all their clothing is custom made. Ever wish your jacket fit in the torso and was still long enough in the sleeves? Well now it can be! Just in the softshell options alone, I'm hoping to try the warm and windproof Cold Fusion Shock Jacket while Chris is looking at the ultra breathable Cold Play Shock Jacket. We're both hoping to get the tough Cold Play Shock Pants as well for some winter 14er climbs. Check out their stuff and check back here after November 15th to see if we made the cut.

Chris and Marni's 2007 Adventures:
7 14er Summits!
Quandary Peak
3rd Wedding Anniversary - Democrat, Cameron, Lincoln and Bross
Mount Sherman
Culebra Peak








Chris's 2007 Results:
1st place SS, 4th overall - Rim Ride Moab
6th Place (Series Overall) - Cherry Creek Time Trials Cat 4
5th, 7th, 8th, 8th, 8th, 12th (Individual Races) - Cherry Creek Time Trials Cat 4
32nd Place - Boulder Roubaix Cat 4
2nd SS, 6th Overall - TransIowa
7th Overall - Kokopelli Trail Race
Bedrock Store - Grand Loop Race
6th Place (Series Overall) - Winter Park XC MTB Series Expert 25-29
3rd, 3rd, 8th, 9th, 12th, 14th (Individual Races) - Winter Park MTB Series Expert 25-29
9th - 24 Hours of Moab Solo Men




Marni's 2007 Results:
22nd Place (Series Overall) - Cherry Creek Time Trials Cat 4
15th, 15th, 18th, 19th, 21st, 25th (Individual Races) - Cherry Creek Time Trials Cat 4
2nd Place (Series Overall) - Winter Park XC MTB Series Beginner 25-29
3rd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 8th (Individual Races) - Winter Park MTB Series Beginner 25-29

Some of Chris and Marni's 2008 Events:
Togwotee Winter Classic
Cherry Creek Time Trial Series
Winter Park Mountain Bike Series
14er's - Longs Peak, Mount Sneffels, Mount Bierstat and Mount Evans via The Sawtooth

Here's to more success in 2008!

Stress makes my hair fall out

Today I found out, after getting kid #30 in my class (16 kinders and 14 first graders!!), that the school will be hiring another Kindergarten teacher to take all of my Kinders and some from the other huge class. That leaves me with 14 first graders. I started the year as a first grade teacher, got changed to a K/1 teacher, and now will be going back to being a straight first grade teacher. For a person who HATES change, this year has been a serious test to my ability to adapt.

Good news -- 14 kids, all one grade, wow! Can't beat that! Granted I'll get every new first grader that comes our way, but that's ok.

Bad news -- I've fallen head over heels in love with my Kindergarteners and hate the idea of giving them up. They are so cute and it makes me incredibly sad to think I won't get to see them every day. Now I have to redo the grade book, the homework chart, the birthday chart, the reading groups, seating, classroom arrangement, filing system, EVERYTHING... and I JUST finally got it all changed over from my previous system.

Sigh.

More change. More stress. Dang... and I was hoping I'd stop losing my hair at some point... hey, bald will be easier with a bike helmet, right?

(I should also point out that I am now 8-0 in fantasy football -- I've come to l-o-v-e Tom Brady. I had four guys score under five points this week and still won because of Brady's 41.64 points -- sweeeeeeeeeeeeeet)

Sports can be great...

If this doesn't make you smile, I don't know what will!

p.s. fixed the link so it works now :)

Random thoughts

1) VeloSwap was a little disappointing this year. I got a pair of short fingered gloves for $10.00 and two pairs of hiking/trail running shoes for super cheap. Other than that, even if I did have enough money for a time trial bike like I had hoped to have, I wouldn't have found anything. I guess that's good...

2) GO ROCKIES! While the game is still about to start and I'm not frustrated to the point of turning it off, I am excited about the first World Series game in Colorado. Who would've thunk? Even if they get creamed, I'm still so excited that they even made it this far.

3) To the turds that dented our garage door with rocks last night... wow. That's really cool. I wish I was as awesome as you. May you one day grow up and learn how it feels... and may you never have my husband, father, brothers, or biking buddies catch you in the act.

4) I miss peanut butter snickers.

Fickle Love

I have watched movies, listened to music, and read poetry that eludes to the great feeling of love.

According to these reliable sources, when a loved one is not around the world loses its beauty and even food loses its taste.

Usually when hubby isn't around for dinner, I heat up some leftovers or make such gourmet dishes as cheesy rice. After a busy day and a week where I've resumed bike riding after a short hiatus, tonight I felt like eating real food despite my true love's absence from the meal.

I cooked up some delicious french dip sandwiches, complete with yummy au jus.

I sat down, by myself, to enjoy my great idea.

I took one bite... eh, ok.

I took another, and another, and soon I realized something.

Those movies, that music, those poems are right!

Even the best food loses its taste when my true love isn't here to enjoy it with me.

Despite being sad about the not-so-delicious food, I was exhilarated that I'd reached such an epiphany. I ate the food. Not what I'd hoped, but that's love's fault, right?

I took the dishes upstairs and started cleaning up. As I threw away the trash from my concoction, I realized something.

Instead of 3 cups of water in the Au Jus, I'd put in four.

Hence the not so delicious taste.

Well my love, perhaps you don't make food lose its taste as I'd previously given you credit, but you are still wonderful... unlike my dinner.

Another Plesko peformance for the books...

Right now I am in a horribly uncomfortable, yet oh so sweet feeling, Moab Super 8 bed. To my right there are Chris and his dad (Pete and Re-Pete) making this really cute half snore/half sigh thing that I've come to realize is hereditary -- oh yes, there's a picture, but unfortunately the download cable is at home. I napped for a little while, but these two have outlasted me and I'm starting to think my quest for pie may be a solo adventure in a little while. Why could they possibly be so sleepy?


Seven hours ago, Chris completed his first 24 hour race. He's done longer and arguably harder before, but a sanctioned 24 hour event where you go around in big 15 miles circles for 24 hours is a whole different ball game. Let me remind you...

I take you to Moab 2006 -- The Storm of the Century. We hauled down Dave N, Dad2, me, and Chris down in the Element and were joined by Scott and Melissa. Once down there we anxiously awaited the start of the race, with high hopes of a first try, first conquest 24 hour race for Chris. Eventually the rains began and never stopped. Without any sort of Easy-Up and a couple of leaky tents, we ended up rigging four or five tarps between cars for a makeshift (and quite crappy) shelter. Eight hours into the race and it was cancelled. Chris had been doing well, and completed five laps in a soggy eight hours. Desert schmesert.

Discouraged by Moab's lack off desertness, we headed down to Tucson, AZ in February 2007...

Fast forward to 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo -- The Great Stomach Disaster. This time Chris and I drove down alone with the poochy and met Dad2 and Little re-re-Pete (little brother Nick) for a hotish, very windy, and quite cactusey second try at a 24 hour conquest. Chris was ripping up the course until around 1 am when his stomach lost all ability to process food and Chris regretfully and painfully pulled the chord on another race. Between the borrowed Easy-up blowing away and everything being covered in a million little cactus pricklies (claiming the life of a much loved pair of SmartWool socks and a lot of hunks of dog's fur), the environment wasn't exactly our friend on this one either.

So here we are, one year after The Storm of the Century, sleeping in the same hotel, smelling of the same Moab sand, with a smaller but more experienced crew, much happier and more tired. There will be many stories told by Chris and his fellow competitors that will go down in the epic record books. The greatest story of all is not my squeemish 2am application of cold Butt'r to Chris's shorts as he drowsily and unknowingly explained that he was "hot down there" to a giggling posse of friends, but it was rather Chris's conquest over himself. I'll let him tell the story and results, but I'm happy to say (once again and in my humble opinion) that I'm married to one of the top 10 mountain bikers in the region, country, and probably the world. I'm also happy to say that the combination of Dad2 and myself makes for a pretty well-oiled crew-machine. Only a Dad can spring up with that much urgency every two hours when his son radios in saying he's hungry.

The three of us are exhausted and one of us can hardly walk, but we're all relieved and exhilarated by Chris's performance on the bike. In addition to our happiness about him, we are so proud of the Feedback team who pulled down a 3rd place in the Co-ed Pro-am category, Bill and buddies who pulled off an impressive 2nd place in the Clydesdale category, and Nicholette/Steve/Dan/guy we don't know, but will probably know soon, on their excellent conquest of their first 24 hour team race. We had a great group of home, internet, team, and new friends hanging around enjoying Moab (which actually could've passed as a real desert this trip).

Pictures of action-Chris, sleeping Chris, the Hotelement, and our WAY cool and super dialed in pit setup to come. HUGE THANKS TO MOM AND DAD FOR THE EASY-UP TENT! Your mad shopping skills were the envy of Solo Row as everyone else probably paid way too much for theirs.

Off for my own solo conquest -- PIE!

Challenge

Last weekend I found myself on Culebra Peak looking like this:

It was about 11:00 am and I was headed off of a windy, cold summit about a hundred yards behind Chris. We were walking down a large grassy hill and as I closed one of my five hoods around my head to gaurd against the wind I tried to ignore my knee that screamed with every step. I looked ahead and saw Chris and Turbo walking gleefully down the slope without a care in the world.

Eventually the "ow, ow, ow" in my head was interrupted by an interesting thought "how did I get here?"

Not here in the theological sense, but rather, how did I (a person who appreciates nature's beauty but has never been one to engulf myself in it) end up on a cold and windy 14er on a random weekend in the middle of the busiest part of the school year -- my 7th in less than three months?

Even more than simply being there, how did I end up loving being there? How could I find being wind-burned, tired, 5 hours from home, and having a screaming knee fun? How could I make it through a whole trip like this without complaining? I've never been the "adventurous" one in the family. No one would look at me or meet me and think "hard core." Pretty soon I looked ahead and saw this:


I realized I have one person to thank, or to blame, for all of this: Chris.

Then I got quite nostalgic. And here it will spew into a pre-Moab tribute to my wonderful husband:

Chris, you challenge me like no one else in my life.

From the day we met, you have pushed me to do things that I would normally shy away from. Even the way we met was a challenge to my personality. My brother invited me to a triathlon team party where I wouldn't know anyone but my brother and his girlfriend, and there would be "this Chris guy who you might like." Luckily my roommate was out of town and I, in very un-marni-like fashion, said I would go. Even now, I don't think I'd go. I'm not sure what got into me. Once there I "danced" to Nelly with that strange Chris guy (I don't dance, and I REALLY don't dance to hip-hop, especially with some random guy I just met) and as the evening progressed, I snuck away from the cops. Obviously, from day 1, you challenged me to push the limits that I had unknowlingly set on my personality.

You've gotten me to work on and drive race cars. You've given me the opportunity to learn to drive and ride on a sport bike. You taught me to run and somewhat enjoy it. You've even showed me how to slide in a car in the snow and not think I'm going to immediately die. Most recently we've learned to hike 14ers together... I've learned that I can lose footing and not slide off the mountain... I've learned the wind can blow and I won't blow away... I've learned that I'm actually not too bad at peeing above treeline. You've introduced me to the great world of biking... I've learned that I can fall and not break things... I've learned that I can go downhill above 5 mph and the bike won't spontaneously combust... I've learned that I can race other girls and not totally suck.

Without you in my life I never would've experienced these adventures and I never would've learned those lessons. While I feel good about my accomplishments... I see what you attempt, what you accomplish, what you aspire to do with your life, and
it humbles me.

Many people call you "crazy." Hey, I've even called you crazy (even my blog header hints at such). Most people see what you do and think that there's something wrong with you.

What I don't tell you often enough, is that I admire what you do. I wish we all had the attitude that you have when looking at challenges. You see an adventure, no matter how outrageous, and think "I can do that" while I look at the same adventure and tend to think "I could never do that".

Luckily for me, you tend to believe in me much more than I ever believe in myself.

Luckily for you, I tend to believe in you even more than you believe in yourself.

I know that a few rides have brought down your bike confidence this year. I also know that you can do anything you put your mind to.

I can't wait to be your crew at 24 hours of Moab again this year. Every race you enter or ride you attempt, I look at you with such admiration and pride. To me, despite what I may sometimes say, you aren't crazy. You are wonderful, smart, talented, and ambitious. Without your "craziness," I wouldn't be half the person I am today and you wouldn't be half the person you are either. I love you because of what you have accomplished and dream to accomplish, not in spite of it.

You are, and will always be, my puzzle piece. Our personalities may be quite different but it's our differences that make us fit together perfectly. Thank you for making me a better person.

Good luck this weekend in your big race. I can't wait to be there to push you out on your bike and cheer the loudest for you as you finish. I'm your biggest fan and I'm proud of you for even attempting such great things.


P.S. Remember during the race that I may be mean at 2:00 am, but it's for your own good :)

And then there was one...

Our Wednesday group is generally a pretty reliable source of weekly riding.

Lately, however, the group has quickly dwindled.

Two weeks ago we had four.

Last week we had three.

This week it was going to end up just being Chris and I on good old Marshall Mesa. Except today I'm getting sick again. AGAIN. *$&*(#()@*#$^$!!!!

My throat hurts. My ears and head are feeling like they are going to burst.

So today the group lamely dwindled to one. Poor Chris is out riding alone on a Wednesday night. I feel sad for him. I wanted to ride. I've been looking forward to riding. I didn't ride last night because I knew there'd be a good opportunity tonight. This morning I thought I'd still make it. This afternoon I had to email Chris to tell him that I, too, am now super lame and not riding tonight.

Sorry love :(

From Rockies to Rockies

Saturday night, hubby and I embarked on another great Plesko adventure. After plans got derailed due to the unpredictable fall weather at 14,000 feet, we still managed to squeek out an unbelievable weekend. We ate a delicious dinner at my sister-in-law's parents' house and then Chris drove us the 4+ hours down to some ranch gates 9 miles from the New Mexico border. We thought ahead and set up the air mattress in the back of the hotelement and around 1 am we curled into our sleeping bags with Turbo keeping watch in the driver's seat and attempted to drift off into sleepyland. Wind howling against the car and the bright almost-full moon kept us from getting any actual sleep and our 5 am watch alarm came both WAY too quickly and not quickly enough. I whined my way into keeping us curled into the warm sleeping bags until about 5:30 when Chris finally coaxed me out into the windy cold to start our adventure up Culebra Peak.

Culebra Peak is on privately owned land and the owners are not so keen on the idea of letting dogs (let alone most people) hike there. Luckily for us, a nice guy from the 14ers.com board talked the ranch owners into allowing this dogs/owners day (in completely Culebra, his dog finished 14er #53 -- nearly every official 14er in Colorado). Apparently dogs haven't been allowed to hike there in over 10 years and Turbo is one of the luckly five to summit in at least a decade. We paid our fee and took the E up a road that made even Chris a little nervous. The E is 4 wheel drive, but doesn't have the clearance or gearing to crawl over such harsh roads without scraping, cursing, and clutch-smoking. But, we all survived, including the car, and once at the top we set off to climb 14er number nine for the Pleskos.

Climb details and pictures will come tomorrow. For now, I just got home from a kickball double-header where I acutally didn't seriously suck. The Rockies are currently playing in the bottom of the 13th to catch a wildcard playoff bid. I was a die-hard Rockies fan for a few years, never missing a game whether it was on TV or just on the radio. The Rox have, frankly, sucked for many years and in those years my fan-dom, and most of the city's, has dwindled down to nearly nothing. Today it seems like back in the 90s. We actually had a radio out at the kickball game listening to the Rockies/Padres game. Everyone asked how they were doing. No one has cared this much about Colorado baseball in this town since, well, ever really. I actually listed to the game on the way home and gave up going to sleep at a nice early time to watch the rest of this game. Did I think they'd pull it out? Heck no. Especially when the Padres hit a two-run homer in the top of the 13th. And holy crap. They just pulled it out. I can't believe it. Was the call at the plate to end the game iffy? Absolutely. But oh well. No worries. I'll call it now, the Rockies will find a way to flop it in the first round. But they provided a night of hope for Colorado baseball to last another 10 years. Good job boys.

Finally off to bed. More mountain report tomorrow :D