08/01/2026
The Colorado Trail Race starts tomorrow. As happens every year, the eve of the CTR puts me in full-on wanderlust mode. High alpine backcountry trail has always been my favorite, and the CTR is the prime high-country bikepacking race, one that ends on my very street! With a full family life, two businesses to run, and a knee that's been pretty dang rachet-like for some years now, it's unlikely I'll ever make the full CTR race run again. But I remember.
I remember the pre-race jitters, months of loooonnng training hours begging to be set loose. I remember starting my first CTR in 2011 on the Front Range, unsure if I'd make it (I did) or if my first-ever home-built bikepacking kit would self-destruct (it did not). I remember opening my bike shop at 3am before pedaling out for the first-ever Durango-start CTR in 2013, which left literally from the shop's front door. I remember spinning in the dark, multi-hour climbs, hike-a-bike by headlamp, epic vistas, short cold sleep, and absolutely blistering descents once the loaded weight was second nature. I remember waking up in the rain before dawn, and falling asleep while pedaling after repeated hallucinations. I remember eating Fritos in blueberry yogurt at Mt Princeton Hot Springs and thinking it was the best thing ever. I remember the deep satisfaction of finishing. And best of all, I remember being able to, after a few days on the trail, drop out of my daily life and drop into something truly adventurous. It was a killer feeling, even for a guy who's spent much of his life adventuring on a very regular basis.
Not sure what the race scene is like these days. My impression is that most people have so many devices and apps and info-trackers that they are constantly digitally tethered no matter how far they get from town or how many days they've been out. If that's the case, it's a bummer... because you can't explore the wilderness within if you never give it a chance to show itself.
Best wishes to all embarking on the Colorado Trail Race tomorrow. Rubber side down, tailwinds, look out for lightning, and turn off the damn panopticon in your pocket or on your handlebars. (Below, a single photo from 2011 and several from 2013.)