Think you’re in Shape? Move to Boulder, and then kill yourself

Overheard while working out at the YMCA.

Ridiculously ripped dude one: “Hey man do you cyclocross?”

Equally Ripped dude two: “No, just ice climb and ski. Going to Jackson this weekend and Aspen in two weeks.”

“Sweet! But you really should try it. Once the road season ends it ‘s a great way to stay in shape. I just did a sick race in Estes Park.”

“Yea? Hard?”

“You know, typical. 30 miles, snow, same old shit.”

“Well I do need a new bike. Maybe I’ll pick one up. BTW, ever want to ride across Colorado?”

“Did last year, it was too easy.”

When I moved to Boulder I was out of shape. Two months on the road had broken me down. I’d run a marathon, competed in a few triathlons and climbed some 14,000 ft. peaks, but besides that the summer had been fairly uneventful.

Back home (Santa Cruz California,) I was the active one among most of my friends. Saturday mornings would be filled with 40-mile rides, 15-mile runs and marathon lap swims.

I would hit the gym at lunch, climb sporadically and hike twice a month.

And then I moved to Boulder.

The town where if you can’t ride a century, run a marathon and bust out a pitch on a gruesome 5.12 all in the same day, you’re mediocre. Worthless. Pathetic. Plane out of shape.

“Just remember,” several people told me when I first arrived. “There is always someone faster, better and more ballsy out there than you. Once you know that, you will be fine.”

I believed them, but it didn’t sink in at first.

My first two months were a blast. Twenty five thousand feet of elevation gain, over 100 miles hiked, a few hundred miles run and even two climbing sessions. I drank beer, lost weight, ate healthier than ever and found myself happier than I’d been in several years.

But as the newness wears off and I begin to become more of a resident in Boulder, the reality is sinking in.

“What are you doing this weekend?” I might ask a coworker.

“Oh you know, same old stuff. Climb a mountain early Saturday, then attend Dave Matthews before heading out to a friends hut trip which I’ll have to ski into at night. Then Sunday ski back, bang out a freelance piece and relax.”

Damn. And I thought hiking 10 miles was cool.

Running up a mountain

I love where I work.  

For starters, we have a cabinet in the kitchen with free food.  For an Intern making enough to buy three items from Whole Foods a week, the cabinet means breakfast, lunch and a late afternoon snack.

But that is mundane compared to the real reason I don’t dread going to work everyday.  Instead it’s because for nine hours a day I am surrounded by individuals who know nothing about the word “can’t.”

Monday morning discussions are peppered with tales of mountaineering, epic ski adventures, century bike rides and micro-brew drinking competitions. 

Then, around lunchtime the office clears out and heads into the mountains.  Most bike, some go to the gym, but a handful of us head to Mount Sanitas where we walk, hike, slog, run, sprint and live at 1.2 mph.

We even write a blog about it. 

So far it’s been a long four weeks.  I’m barley being able to get my ass up the mountain, but overtime my ultimate goal of 20 minutes should be in reach.  So if you’re board check out the blog where my co-workers are always writing some new fantastic stuff about our journey up a mountain.

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