First, everyone’s favorite downtown zealot posted a sweet video showing a Porsche GT3 racing up Pike’s Peak, one of the fiercest rally/hill climbs in the sport. The video (seen below) is absolutely awesome, both in the feat of the driver and that of the cinematography.

Not only did it make me want to go tear around town in my own car (we’ll save that for the winter) but it brought to the forefront of my mind an incredible hill climb of my own in the same locale, albeit on two feet instead of four wheels.

But the second (and more personal) angle to this story was brought on when @classicgrrl wrote this to me on twitter:

It was May 18, 2009 and I was in Colorado Springs to witness and celebrate my sister’s graduation from Colorado College. My Mother and Father were there as well, though we all had our own hotel rooms. Pictures=1,000 words, so to describe my love for that part of the country I simply need to show you the view from my hotel room–what I woke up to every day that trip.

That mountain top with the snow on it? That’s Pike’s Peak sitting over 14,000 feet above sea level, permanently covered in snow, tempting you to venture up its sides. If you click on the picture and look to the right, you can see a brown line running almost vertically up the adjacent hill (anything next to Da Peak is, in my opinion, a hill, although here it would be a mountain towering over the whole state….but I digress).

That is the Manitou Springs Incline…here’s a closer look.

Now, for a bit of backstory.. This was not my first trip to Manitou Springs. The previous Thanksgiving (we’re talking Nov. 2008) my family decided to fly out to CO to visit my sister for the Turkey Day celebration. My Mom and Dad had separated roughly 18 months before that, but it was just now becoming apparent to all parties involved that reconciliation was not part of the future picture. In fact, my Mom was in Florida, Dad was in DC, I was here in Cincy, and sis was, as stated earlier, in CO Springs. “Family Time” was all but nonexistent save for phone calls and video chats (Barses are nothing if not technology nerds). To say it was an awkward holiday season would be putting it mildly. In fact, it was one of the most soul-crushing, dreadful holidays of my life…..I mean, my parents had been married for 25 years, and 5 years prior had celebrated their 20th anniversary with large gathering of family near and far. I grew up watching my friend’s parents split, all the while thinking that could never happen to my Mom and Dad. Even when they broke the news to me it wasn’t that real, not until that Thanksgiving. The sentiment that surrounded that “vacation” had a profound effect on me and the way I view relationships.

Fast forward 7 months and I’m back in Colorado with my immediate family, but some things had changed. I had taken every bit of anger/sadness/pity and turned it into motivation to kick my own ass back into shape. I’m an active guy, especially when I’m in troubled waters (ask my Dad how much my mountain biking picked up when I was grounded and/or screwed up in the head during high school). My mom and sister are also runners, and we went out together a few times during the graduation trip. But I’m taller/stronger/faster than both of them (not bragging, just saying) and at some point the awkwardness of the whole situation got to me, and I needed to get out and run myself ragged.

My sister had told me about the Manitou Springs Incline before. An old rail incline that took people and their belongings partway up to Pike’s Peak, all that was left were the railroad ties, some more mangled than others from the constant freeze and thaw that part of the country goes through each year. Technically closed to hikers, the area still sees steady foot traffic as people climb the ~5,000 railroad ties to ascend roughly 2,000 vertical feet (keeping in mind the base of the hill is already 6,800 feet above sea level). At that point you meet up with the Barr Trail–a route that will take you four miles back down to the base, or continue up to the top of Pike’s Peak.

As the first picture demonstrates, I could see the incline from my hotel room, a thin brown line beckoning me to come scale its ascent. I got directions from my sister, the rental car from my Dad, an apple from the hotel, and I took off 7 miles west to Manitou.

I didn’t have my digi, but I did have my phone, and I quickly realized this was a picture worthy trip. That, and it was going to kick my ass.

Standing at the base let's you appreciate what you are about to tackle

In denial about the difficulty of the endeavor I started out jogging my way up, skipping ties as I went. Yeah, that lasted about as long as [insert extremely short fad here] and I slowed to a not-so-brisk walk before things even got steep (side note: they could really use more oxygen in the air out there).

Eventually I realized (like most of life) it was as much about the journey as the destination (and shit, I knew I wasn’t going to make to The Peak in shorts and a t-shirt) so I took it (kinda) slow and made sure to soak it all in.

The steeper it gets, the more mangled

I hit the top and kept hiking up the trail, making sure to take some self shots with Pike’s Peak in the background.

At some point I remembered I had to get back down, and I ran downhill, jumping over rocks an stumps on the Barr Trail, doing my best not to roll an ankle. I did pause to catch a glimpse of the Garden of the Gods protruding out of the trees in the distance.

For a few hours I lost myself out there, like a kid, with my mind focused on nothing but the environment around me. As I drove from one Springs to the other I realized, as I had many times before, that nothing in life is a constant (screw you death and taxes) and this journey was just another manifestation of the pendulum that swings back and forth between highs and lows. The important thing I have to remind myself is to stay positive, to know that at times things can look bleak, but damn it that will pass.

I see a lot of Facebook and Twitter updates which are cryptic and depressing…lord knows I’ve left my fair share (mostly in the form of lyrics) and I just want to remind people that life isn’t all berries and cream…but it doesn’t suck either. In fact, far from it. Sometimes it takes a race up a mountain to remember that.

]]> http://www.theboilover.com/2010/11/manitou-springs-incline/feed/ 1 http://www.theboilover.com/2010/05/where-are-they-now-pants-edition/ http://www.theboilover.com/2010/05/where-are-they-now-pants-edition/#comments Fri, 28 May 2010 15:10:23 +0000 theboilover http://www.theboilover.com/?p=1291 A while ago I wrote a post about a pair of skinny jeans. It’s by far the most emotionally charged post I’ve written, and is up there as far as most viewed articles I’ve written.

In said post I described how my enlarging buttocks put enough pressure on my wallet to start a hole in the right rear pocket.

I then rejoiced after losing weight and being able to wear those pants again.

The jeans were then retired, because they were TOO big (again, time for celebration).

I’m happy to say they have now been put back into rotation (not because I put weight back on either).

When I bought Race St a couple of months ago I needed a pair of jeans to wear that I didn’t care about…demolition jeans if you will. I immediately thought of the skinny jeans, and I pulled them back out of the closet. They fit loose enough that it gives me the flexibility I need to hop in and out of windows and the various other random things I do while trying to fix this place up.

And even though I have a tool belt, sometimes it’s just easier to use that back pocket.

Every once in a while I catch myself thinking about what led me to this point. I see those frayed pieces of cotton hanging from the back pocket and I see a little bit of myself in them. When I bought those jeans I thought I was the king of the world. I had a great girlfriend I thought I was going to marry and no long term aspirations to stay in Cincinnati–I was just here for a reasonably good job while she finished school. I would have laughed in your face if you told me I would be 25 and single, gutting and remodeling my own house across the street from Findlay Market.

Yet here I am, May 28 2010, working on my first home. The jeans are still with me, but I’m not sure much about me is the same as it was when I purchased them. I’ve managed to break a couple more hearts since then–trust me I’m not bragging–I’ve certainly put my own corazón through the ringer a few times. I feel like I’ve been waiting years to get back to who I was, or as a great song I love quotes “To say this is the way that I used to be.” What I’m realizing is that I probably won’t ever be the same guy again, not totally. You take the good with the bad right? I’m no longer a fresh-out-of-college naive kid…I’m a 3-years-out-of-college naive adult(?). I wouldn’t say I’ve lost the fun loving spark that I had back then…it’s just that the spark fires a little differently these days.

All this should be expected right? I wasn’t the same at person 21 that I was at 18, so why would I be the same person at 25 that I was at 22?

I guess from 18 to 21, you feel like you are supposed to grow up, but by 22 I felt grown. I was out on my own, living and breathing the “real” world….except I forgot that it doesn’t stop there. No, the changes in your life just get bigger as the choices become more important. That’s a lesson I suspect I will be learning for the rest of my life.

I know one day those parts of my life that feel like the tattered strands of back pocket will make sense–they’ll show themselves to be there for a reason–like making space for a necessary tool to move forward with my life.

[Editor's Note: Despite the tone this takes at the end, I couldn't be happier with the way things are going for me right now. It's not all crystal clear, but I'm rolling with it.]

What feels like five lifetimes ago (but in reality was about 2 years ago) I was shopping with my (then) girlfriend when we made a stop by The Gap. Now understand that I am not a ‘shopper’ and I don’t go peruse stores looking for things to buy. If I need something I buy it, then I go home. For the most part she was the same way, so shopping was never the excruciating experience some boyfriends make it out to be. But I digress….

We popped in The Gap because I knew I could use a new pair of jeans. I, for the most part, wear baggier clothing, but I needed some jeans I could wear to the office and not look like I just came in from the weekend. She had been telling me that I needed some ‘skinny jeans’ for some time, so I decided to make the move. At that point I was wearing a size 36 waist, loose fit jeans. I pulled out the least fake-faded pair of Levi’s I could find–some straight cut, 35 waist Levi’s 1969′s. They fit snug, but they weren’t shrink wrapped to me, and I was told “They make your butt look cute.” Naturally I was sold.

Over the next few months that pair of jeans found themselves in regular/heavy rotation, getting the call for work and social events. All was going well, until I injured myself playing racquetball.

I had to call it quits on just about every physical activity I took part in. Waiting for my body to repair itself was an excruciatingly slow process. During that period I ended things with my girlfriend, and life in general felt dark. I noticed the skinny jeans were becoming tighter and tighter (no surprise there, I wasn’t working out). When my wallet wore through the right butt pocket because it had been stretched so much, I knew it was time to retire them.

My skinny jeans were tossed away into the bowels of my closet, and were long forgotten about.

Last January I was finally healed, and I started the slow process of getting back into physical activity. Using my Wii Fit to chart my progress, I began to get back into shape. Within a few months I was looking at a tumbling downward trend on the weight graph, and all of a sudden I was sticking extra holes in my belts so I could synch down my pants and keep them somewhere near my waistline.

It was at that moment I remembered the skinny jeans.

I dug through my closet and pulled them out, still sighing at the worn through right butt pocket. I was nervous about putting them on. Just looking at them was bringing back memories of that shopping trip, the girl I was with, and the person I was when I bought them. But, one leg at a time (someone tell me who puts pants on both legs at a time) I slid into them, and marveled at myself in the mirror. The last time I had worn them they were tight in the thighs and difficult to bend down and tie a shoe in; now they sat comfortably on my waist and barely hung off my skin. I–and my skinny jeans–were back.

The next few months brought my skinny jeans and I closer than ever before. Sure, I had to abandon the back pocket, but they were comfortable, and that hole was something people seem to pay hundreds of dollars for in designer jeans.

Then one day I found myself in a place I never thought I would be….the skinny jeans were too big. I stood in front of the mirror, this time in disbelief–it didn’t seem possible that I was about to put another hole in a belt to keep the skinny jeans up on my waist. I smiled as I thought about the journey I had been through with these pants, and what it meant to retire them again, but for the opposite reason.

It was a good feeling, like I had come back from two terrible places–injury and loneliness–only to return stronger than before.

I realized there was only one thing left to do, and that was go out and buy a new pair of skinny jeans. So that is exactly what I did–some straight cut, 33 waist Levi 1969′s–progress is a great thing.

So why should you own a pair of skinny jeans? Maybe you should buy a pair that you want to fit into, and that is your goal. Maybe you have someone for whom you want your butt to look cute.

Or maybe you just need a new pair of pants.