News
No fancy bicycles, not even gym time. My favorite recession-buster workout comes thanks to a year-old pair of running shoes.
It's free of crowds, scores, fees, equipment breakdowns and the sort of fashion faux pas that can only leave you looking ridiculous any way you go. (I'm thinking of cycling here.)
Someday, when the knees finally do give out, the mountain bike may become more appealing.
But for now it's trail running. That's the stuff for me.
Heaven is two hours on, say, East Lake Creek or maybe Two Elk, my new favorite trail out of Minturn. Well, maybe “heaven” isn't quite the right word.
It's just that there's nothing like grinding uphill, tripping over rocks, lungs and legs burning, to blow out the anxieties of the moment and nurture some creativity with that quality alone time, you know.
I know. Strange sense of fun. But this community's full of real weirdos for whom two hours is a wind sprint.
This is my long run, taken too infrequently at that. I dread it and look forward to it, and my favorite part is being done with it. Well, actually, that's my second favorite.
This time of year, while my son's in town, I race to beat him back from our mutual turnaround time. He runs two, three times as far, but we're equal in time. It's a worthy handicap, and sometimes I win. Hey, makes the beer taste that much better, and what's the value of having kids if you can't taunt them a little now and then?
Basketball has become my “speed” workout. I use quote marks to go with the raised eyebrows of the guys at noon ball, who would never associate speed with Rogers on the court.
Playing at all these days, never mind two-hour trail runs, wouldn't happen without the clinic that puts folks like A-Rod, Kobe and Dan Marino back together again.
I thought I was done in 2003, eyeing Spandex with trepidation, when the first knee doc I saw after a blowout told me to forget running and think about that bike, and trade snowboarding for swimming while I was at it.
My wife, among others, will tell you that I'm not always a good listener.
The athletes are fine, but I'm a real fan of the Steadman Hawkins group, and particularly Bill Sterett, who made a game time decision to reconstruct my ACL.
Not only am I still running six years later, but his decision spared you all the spectacle of Rogers in Spandex. Believe me, you should be cheering.
Don Rogers is the editor and publisher of the Vail Daily. He welcomes your comments at editor@vaildaily.com
It's free of crowds, scores, fees, equipment breakdowns and the sort of fashion faux pas that can only leave you looking ridiculous any way you go. (I'm thinking of cycling here.)
Someday, when the knees finally do give out, the mountain bike may become more appealing.
But for now it's trail running. That's the stuff for me.
Heaven is two hours on, say, East Lake Creek or maybe Two Elk, my new favorite trail out of Minturn. Well, maybe “heaven” isn't quite the right word.
It's just that there's nothing like grinding uphill, tripping over rocks, lungs and legs burning, to blow out the anxieties of the moment and nurture some creativity with that quality alone time, you know.
I know. Strange sense of fun. But this community's full of real weirdos for whom two hours is a wind sprint.
This is my long run, taken too infrequently at that. I dread it and look forward to it, and my favorite part is being done with it. Well, actually, that's my second favorite.
This time of year, while my son's in town, I race to beat him back from our mutual turnaround time. He runs two, three times as far, but we're equal in time. It's a worthy handicap, and sometimes I win. Hey, makes the beer taste that much better, and what's the value of having kids if you can't taunt them a little now and then?
Basketball has become my “speed” workout. I use quote marks to go with the raised eyebrows of the guys at noon ball, who would never associate speed with Rogers on the court.
Playing at all these days, never mind two-hour trail runs, wouldn't happen without the clinic that puts folks like A-Rod, Kobe and Dan Marino back together again.
I thought I was done in 2003, eyeing Spandex with trepidation, when the first knee doc I saw after a blowout told me to forget running and think about that bike, and trade snowboarding for swimming while I was at it.
My wife, among others, will tell you that I'm not always a good listener.
The athletes are fine, but I'm a real fan of the Steadman Hawkins group, and particularly Bill Sterett, who made a game time decision to reconstruct my ACL.
Not only am I still running six years later, but his decision spared you all the spectacle of Rogers in Spandex. Believe me, you should be cheering.
Don Rogers is the editor and publisher of the Vail Daily. He welcomes your comments at editor@vaildaily.com
