It's a Tough Job, But Somebody's Got To Do It

So the other day, the guys I share office space with asked me if I would be willing to represent them at the annual pre-ski season Chamber of Commerce lunch at the sun deck atop Aspen Mountain. Social butterfly that I am, I took them up on it.

The lunch started at noon, so I walked the three blocks to the base of the gondola shortly after 11:30. As I approached the loading station, it was only me and a mid-50ish woman waiting around for permission to hop on one of the brand new cars for the 12-minute ride to the top. (During the lunch, I would find out that each car cost over 32K to construct and the total price tag of the overhaul exceeded 7M. Nobody seemed to mind this.)

After a minute or two, the older woman and I boarded the first car heading to the lunch and sat down facing one another. She immediately asked me who I worked for, which led to a conversation about our move, about Lauren teaching at the elementary school, about, well, pretty much everything really. The conversation inevitably led to skiing, where. much to my surprise, this woman went story-for-story with me about every possible misadventure one could experience on a pair of skis: getting lost in the backcountry, falling in a tree well, breaking a board in half in the middle of the woods.... she could top anything I threw at her. If I told her I had a black cat, well, you could bet she had a blacker one. I must say, I was thorougly impressed.

Near the end of the ride, it had dawned on me that, self-centered bastard that I am, I had never even bothered to ask her what SHE did for a living. So I asked.

Her reply?

"I'm the mayor."

This is really, really a cool town.

Miss Lauren's Kindergarten

Here is my classroom! I have 17 beautiful little ones that just may bring on some gray hair before I turn 30! No-honestly they are really adorable and I had lots of fun setting up the room.

Look toward the back windows- we even have a loft in our room and the kids climb up the ladder through the red tube!!!! I'll send some pics of the kids very soon. As for now- I am off to circle time!

Home Sweet Home

Here are some pictures of our new home!
You can tell because we have the sign! Our guest bedroom....
We bought a new couch!
Our great new duvet cover and of course the beautiful pictures from Grandmom!

Out the back window we can see some trees and during the winter months we'll get to see Red Mountain!

The kitchen....




And our new chair!
We are having lots of fun and can't wait to share it with you...
So...we have plenty of room for visitors whenever you feel like getting away! We love and miss everyone lots

Oh, Back to School, Back to School...

Don't forget to call Miss Lauren and ask her how her first day of school went!

Trust Me, That Looks A Whole Lot Worse Than It Really Was

This Saturday, I escorted Lauren and two of her friends down to Glenwood Springs for a little adrenaline fueled mayhem. Or as the locals like to call it, whitewater rafting.

Having grown up on the beach, you would think Lauren would have developed a bit of a comfort level around large bodies of water. You’d be wrong. I place the blame squarely on the Fares family and their unadulterated love of conversation. My theory is that for the last 20 years, Fred, Rosalie and the kids would set up camp on the 4th street beach sometime around noon, and promptly begin discussing the goings on in their respective lives. The next time they looked up, it would be 5:30, and nobody would have so much as shifted their chair to face the sun, let alone headed down to the ocean. Over time, Lauren’s subconscious mind began to associate water with the need to stop talking. Left unchecked, this developed into a debilitating phobia.

Armed with life vests, windbreakers, and a disposable camera, we set out to change all that. For Lauren, this would be a huge step forward. For those of you who’ve never been, whitewater rafting basically involves eight people piling into an inflatable raft and rocketing down-river, ricocheting off rocks and perilously negotiating rapids, your life in the hands of a college drop-out “guide” who still smells faintly of marijuana. If my wife could handle this, she could handle pretty much anything.

Whoops. The video you see above is our raft, desperately attempting to survive the toughest rapid of the day, a little doozy called “Satan’s Prostate.” (OK, I made the name up. But it sounds tough, doesn’t it?) Lauren is in the third row towards the back on the left. I am right behind her. As you can see, things were going smoothly for a bit, until the useless right side of the boat let us down and stopped paddling. At that point, we got hung up on the rocks, and chaos ensued. Looks like that debilitating phobia isn’t going anywhere soon.

Of course, I’m lying about all this. The trip went great. Glenwood Canyon, recently anointed one of America’s ten most scenic places, was as beautiful as advertised. Our boat was badass, and we cruised through the rapids like it was our job, unlike those nimrods on the video. Along the way, we were able to stop and jump into natural hotsprings, which are pools of water that have been superheated by the earths core to a soothing 115 degrees Fahrenheit.

The undeniable highlight of the trip, however, came during the calmest stretch of the day. As we were rafting above the deepest part of the river, our guide told us we could jump in and swim if we so pleased. Being an experienced waterman (did I ever tell you about the time I won the Gold in the 1000 foot doubles in the Islands?), I dove in. Lauren’s friends soon followed. You’ll never believe what happened next. Lauren, my formerly hydrophobic wife, stood up on the inflatable raft, and without a hint of caution, launched herself into the Colorado River. And I have the pictures to prove it.

In fact, we have dozens of pictures from the day, all of which are forthcoming. See you then.

It's Picture Time!

You may think Lauren and I have slowed from our initial post-move frenetic pace now that reality has set in and we're both working, but as usual, you'd be wrong. While the hiking has been on hiatus as Lauren spends most of the daylight hours setting up her room and my legs inexplicably stopped functioning after Pikes, we have turned our attention to less healthy, more "indoor" pursuits. What follows is a brief picture tour as Lauren and I sample, both literally and figuratively, all the meats of the cultural stew that is Aspen.

This would be me, back at my favorite IOU-accepting establishment, the Woody Creek Tavern, only this time, sans Lauren. While my wife and her friends attended the free concert at Snowmass, I snuck away for an evening of cold beer and good eatin'.

That my friends, is a cheeseburger. Note the lack of french fries. It's amazing, isn't it? In today's society, by simply eschewing fried potatos (bad carbohydrates), I've managed to transform this heart-attack-waiting-to-happen into a healthy option worthy of an Applebees Atkins Menu. Only in America.

Wait a minute, you say. I thought you said "less healthy" pursuits? Sure, to the untrained eye this photo may look like Lauren happily burning calories atop her borrowed mountain bike, but what you don't see is that this bike, and its rider, will soon be parked at the Aspen Ben & Jerry's.

Lastly, Lauren and I stopped by the Ute Mountaineer for some late-night shopping, where I picked up some light reading for my wife. We may never hike again.

Weekend in Review 2: Electric Bugaloo

This past weekend, with Lauren frantically attempting to set up her classroom before the kiddies arrive, I took the opportunity to sneak away to Denver to run in the Pikes Peak Ascent, far and away my favorite race of any kind.

Starting on a harmless patch of asphalt in the postcard-quaint town of Manitou Springs, Colorado, the Ascent takes runners 8,000 feet skyward before finishing atop the lunar-like summit of 14,115 foot Pikes Peak (on left). While the panoramic views awaiting the finishers are exceedingly beautiful (in fact, it was the view from the top of Pikes that inspired Katharine Lee Bates to write “America the Beautiful”), simply signing up for the race in no way guarantees you’ll ever get to enjoy them. The relentless climb (it averages 11% for the 13 miles), the increasingly disappearing oxygen (at 14,000 feet, there’s only 33% of the oxygen found at sea level) and the constant threat of unpredictable and dangerous weather conditions (rain and lighting is common; last year saw a freak blizzard) make just finishing this race an unparalleled challenge of both your body and mind.

When we woke Saturday morning, my buddy Max and I were greeted with rain for our entire drive from Denver to Manitou. As we approached the Springs, we could see the Peak shrouded in a mass of black clouds, which could only mean one thing: storms.

Storms can put a damper on any race; on Pikes, they can be deadly. Above tree-line (the point on a mountain where trees can no longer grow due to the decreased oxygen), there is no protection from the elements. If lighting should strike above 12,000 feet, YOU are the tallest thing in the vicinity. Even worse, temperatures routinely drop 30-50 degrees during a storm on the Peak. With any emergency clothes you may be carrying now soaked, there is no escape from the bitter cold, and hypothermia is a distinct possibility.

As best we could, we packed for the worst. We each carried over 25 ounces of water, plenty of food, and as many pieces of warm clothing as we could tie to our bodies. I even carried a cell phone in case of emergency, though it would probably be of little use in the places it was most likely to be needed. The added weight wasn’t going to make the climbing any easier, but it had to be done. And with that, we fought our way to the starting line, and waited for the gun to go off. And woudln't you know it, as we waiting nervously for our day to start, the rain suddenly stopped, and the sun emerged...















The funny thing about the Ascent is, the start does little to foretell the struggles to come. As 1,500 runners mill around the starting line, nervous habits as varied as the shoes on their feet, the scene is indistinguishable from any local 5K. The only thing that separates the start of this race from any other is this simple twist: at this race, one can stand at the starting line, and 13 miles in the distance, see the finish. All you have to do is look up.














To the left is a picture of the famous Rock Arch, through which all runners pass about 2.5 miles into the Ascent. The narrow dirt path you see is the Barr Trail, which runs from the base of Mount Manitou, a smaller mountain adjacent to Pikes Peak, all the way to the summit of Pikes. You join up with the Barr Trail 1.2 miles into the race, and need never turn off it the rest of the way. If you look closely, you can see how the trail winds right between two eight-foot high rocks, with a third acting as a ceiling.


















Five and a half miles and nearly 4,000 feet of climbing into the race, you come across this sign, which reads simply: Barr Camp .5M. It's a momentous sign for two reasons; one good, and one bad. While the sign indicates that you are only half a mile from Barr Camp, a hut that marks the half-way point of the race and is always jam packed with screaming spectators, it also serves as a reminder that the only "flat" portion of the race is over, and there's nothing but steep climbing and thin air ahead.













This is the A Frame. I'm not sure what exactly it's there for, but it's positioned 3 miles above Barr Camp, at roughly 11,500 feet. It's significant to the race for one reason: the tress you see behind the structure are the last you'll find on the mountain. Once you make the turn at the A Frame, you climb above tree-line, where only 3 miles of dirt and rock separate you from the finish line.



















See, I told you. This sign, which reads "Pikes Peak 3M," is only a couple hundred yards from the A Frame. The change in the landscape is dramatic, and the lack of tree cover offers racers the first view of the Peak since the starting line. Never has anything looked so close, yet proved so far away.














The "Pikes Peak 2M" sign. As you can see, the once-smooth trail is not completely rock-strewn. The two mile sign means you've reached roughly 12,800 feet, and at this altititude, breathing is next to impossible. From this sign, you traverse across the face of the mountain all the way to the far edge, right where you see the sky meet the stone. This long, exposed climb has destroyed me twice: in 2002, my calves began to cramp with ever step, while in 2005, I went into a coughing fit each time I attempted to draw a deep breath. Good times.



















That says it all, doesn't it? Only one mile to go, yet it looks damn far away. And trust me, it is. There is still nearly 800 feet of climbing left, which over 1 mile, makes for a grade in excess of 16%. To be honest, though, the first half mile isn't that bad. It even has some flat portions, that is, until you hit...













....the 16 Golden Stairs. Named by Fred Barr, these are 32 switchback that take you the last half mile and 500 feet of vertical to the finish line. Each pair of switchbacks makes up a "stair." They are, undeniably, the most difficult stretch of any half or full marathon in this country. At 14,000 feet, your lungs are burning and your muscles failing. Each step, you're forced to lunge high onto another rock with legs starved for oxygen. The worst part is, you can hear the announcer calling out the finishers, but you can't SEE anything, as it's all taking place directly above you. Finally, when you think you can't go any futher, that you may have to crawl or stop completely, you make one final left hand turn, and you can see it...the finish.














This year, more than ever, crossing under that banner brought with it a feeling of satisfaction you can't imagine. Having missed four months of training, I had serious doubts whether I would ever see the summit. But as Max says, "one foot in front of the other will get you there." And, as usual, he was right. While my time was considerably slower than in years past, I have never ran a race of which I'm more proud, simply for the fact that as much as I wanted to throughout those last five miles, I never quit. And it's all because of her.

And here's the proof! That's me and Max proudly posing at 14,115 feet. As you can see, the storm clouds were just starting to roll in as I finished. That left me just enough time to get my medal, throw on some warm clothes, steal an inordinate amount of post-race M&Ms, and snap this photo. Then it was onto a van and down the mountain, where the oxygen was waiting.

And just think, next year, my truly badass sister Karen could be standing right between Max and I, celebrating her first Pikes Peak Ascent. If that doesn't get her to start training in December, nothing will!

Tony 1, Mountains...Well, 2 Actually

Color me giddy. It took three attempts, but I finally made it to the summit of Red Mountain. Looks like I might be ready for the Golden Leaf after all. Climbed nearly 2300 feet in a little over 5 miles, and was rewarded with a view of, well, pretty much all of Aspen really.

IT'S A CELEBRATION!!

Three reasons to get down Rick James-style tonight:

1. Today marks our first full week in Aspen. As you can tell from this blog, we've made the most of it.
2. Our movers came today! Instead of a truck bearing the hammer and sickle, Bohrens Moving Company pulled up at 8 this morning in a rig with a much less menacing insignia. Steve and Tony were kind enough to unload 4,000 pounds worth of throw pillows, wicker storage, and assorted scented candles. Finally, we can live again.
3. Today was Lauren's first day of school. Don't forget to call her and ask her how her day went. God knows, she enjoys that.

It's A Hard-Knock Life

Another arduous day in the life of Lauren Nitti. Snooze until nine, followed by a light breakfast of prawns and beluga caviar. Once properly attired, it's off to Aspen mountain, where an enclosed gondola awaits to shuttle her 2,000 feet skyward in time for her 10 AM yoga session. Must be nice.

Actually, you may want to savor these pictures, as it's pretty likely this will be the most relaxed you see Lauren for a loooong time. My girl starts school tomorrow, so I thought I'd send her off in style with some moutain-top relaxation. Things were going great too, until one of you had to go and call her cell phone -- which she inexplicably left on -- thereby shattering the serentiy of shavasana with the dulcet tones of polyphonic club music. I hope you're happy.

This officially ends the "vacation" portion of our Aspen adventure. Lauren and I have spent the last week cycling through every overpriced tourist trap imaginable. We dined at all the requisite restaurants, visited all the fancy stores, did all the "must see" hikes, watched the free movie at the ski resort, and so on. It's the equivalent of waiting your entire life to move to LBI, then spending the first month you're there playing ski-ball and eating funnel cake.

Namaste,

Tony

I Want to Get High, So High...

I've been asked what the coolest part about living in Aspen has been so far. It's quite simple, really. Today was my first day back at work for the good people at WS&B, and it would have been easy to write the day off as far as outdoor adventure goes. Instead, I shut my computer down at 5, and by 6, I was snapping the photos you see here.

THAT is what is so cool about Aspen: you're never out of the mix. After I called it a day, we got changed, hopped on the up-valley bus, and headed downtown. The bus dropped us off 10 minutes from the Ute Trail, a local hike which climbs alongside the Aspen ski resort to the tune of 1200 vertical feet in only 1.2 miles. In otherwords, it's really, really steep.

The pictures you see are views from the top. The first photo is, of course, my girl. Badass that she is, she cruised up the climb in less than 45 mintues, with energy enough for a pose at the top. The photo below is of downtown Aspen, with Red Mountain in the background. To give you a bit of spatial awareness, if you look at the picture from my Sunnyside Trail post, you get the exact opposite view; Red Mountain looking across at Aspen.

After the descent, we headed straight to the Cantina for the best nachos in town. Being one of the premier hotspots in Aspen, we were hopeful we'd get a Jennifer Anniston or Kate Hudson sighting, but instead we were treated to David Faustino and Dean Cameron arguing over who had the next game of pool. OK, I made that last part up.

Weekend In Review

With no posts since Friday, we have a lot of catching up to do. And since running diaries are all the rage in the world of online publishing these days, let’s give it a shot…

Friday 7 PM: Fresh off a long hike, we decided to head over to the famous Woody Creek Tavern for a late dinner. I knew of the Tavern as the favorite watering hole of the late, great author Hunter S. Thompson; Lauren knew of it from the “Forty Dollars A Day” episode Rachel Ray filmed in Aspen. Same planet, different worlds, I guess.

Anyhoo, in our hasty preparation, we neglected to pick up any cash. It dawned on us as we were approaching the Tavern, which is roughly 15 miles from any modern convenience, an ATM included. Of course, as we’re walking up to the entrance, what’s the first thing we see, but a large sign reading, “No Credit Cards.” At this point, the hostess had already approached us, and what unfolded next was one of the stranger conversations you’ll ever be privy to. Here’s my attempt at a reenactment:

Lady: There’s about a 15 minute wait. Can I get your name?
Lauren: It’s Tony. I’m so sorry. I see that you don’t take credit cards. Is there an ATM inside?
Lady: Don’t worry honey, we’ll take care of you.
Lauren: Uhhhh…what do you mean.
Lady: You came all the way down here to eat, didn’t you? You can just mail us the money tomorrow.
Lauren: Uhhhh…OK.

Now, where we grew up, you’d have to surrender your first born before you walk out of a restaurant with nothing more than a verbal IOU. Naturally, this left Lauren and I a bit wary throughout the meal, as images of emptying and scrubbing half eaten platters of fish tacos danced in our heads. But they were true to their word, and although they offered us the opportunity to pay them at a later date, we opted for a much more secure method of payment: an out of state New Jersey check from a guy named Tony. I’m sure that made them feel much better.

Saturday 8 AM: Rising Lauren from a peaceful slumber is far from an easy endeavor when only a day at the beach awaits; change that to a high-altitude hike on tired legs, and you’re fighting a losing battle. Nonetheless, arise she did (after much cajoling), and armed with her fancy new shoes and assorted outdoor gear, we set out with an agenda that could only be described as ambitious.

8:30 AM: Before we could hit the trails, we wanted to stop by the Aspen Farmer’s Market. Located in the shadow of Ajax Mountain, the market occupies two full city streets every Saturday morning. Lauren and I were among the first on the scene, so we had our run of the place for a while. There were tons of fruit, veggies, flowers, useless trinkets; pretty standard really. I tried to tempt Lauren with a couple pounds of elk meat, but she wasn’t biting. To be honest, I don’t think she was able to fully enjoy the experience, as she has been a little on edge whenever we’re downtown recently, what with the recent bear attack and all.

9:15 AM: Eighteen miles up Independence Pass, or roughly 11,500 feet higher than where you likely sit as you read this, we parked the Pathfinder and set off on the first of three hikes we hoped to knock off before noon. This was Lauren’s first trek with any real ascent, as Linkins Lake is located 1.2 miles and 600 vertical feet above the trailhead. Couple that with a lung-busting lack of oxygen, and you’ve got yourself one cranky Fares. As always, however, Lauren pulled it together, and we were soon rewarded with another amazing photo-op. To top it all off, unlike our hike from a couple of days ago, we could walk right up to the lake and admire the clarity of the mountain run-off. Good times.

10:15 AM: Our next stop, at a paltry 10,000 feet, is a staple of the Aspen tourist routine, the Independence Ghost Town. Founded on July 4, 1882, a handful of gold-hungry prospectors apparently thought it was a good idea to build a town at the top of a mountain pass. Turns out, they were wrong. I mean, who could have guessed the winters would be unbearably harsh at 10,000 feet?

A couple of miserable years and devastating avalanches later, the pictures below are all that remains of Independence, Colorado. As I perused the ruins, I was left with the thought that had my lovely wife been one of the town’s founders, there would be no ghost town left behind, as she would have steadfastly insisted that everything be moved to their new town, regardless of the cost.
11:00: Hiked the Braille Trail. The first of it’s kind, it is designed to give blind people an opportunity to enjoy an authentic Colorado hike. Of course, it begs the question, how the hell did they drive up the pass in the first place?

12:30 PM: Our frivolous pursuits complete, we headed back downtown for some serious business: the Ducky Derby. Once a year, the good people of Aspen get together to race rubber ducks down the Roaring Fork River. Sounds silly, until you realize the person who “adopted” the winning duckie earns a cool 15K. Of course, in Aspen, that’ll only get you through the weekend.

2 PM-6PM: Drove to Glenwood Springs to buy a couch, chair, and other assorted furnishings. Glenwood Springs is a “city” in the same way that Screech is a “celebrity.” Not to rehash a tire old inbred joke, but there are an awful lot of suspicious overbites running around that town, if you know what I mean. Anyway, we got all our furniture, and we managed to do it all on the cheap. Oh, and we decided against the sleeper sofa, so if you were planning to come stay with us, I hope you like the comfort and support only an air mattress can provide. Or you can always stay at the Jerome for $1,500 a night. That air mattress ain’t so bad now, is it?

7 PM: Lauren and I stopped in Basalt on our way back to Aspen. Basically, if you don’t have a trust fund or get hooked up with employee housing, like we did, you live in Basalt. It’s a super-cool little town, built right along the river. Think Lambertville, only with fewer fat people. Long story short, we ate dinner right on the river, and had the added joy of listening to the girl at the table next to us discuss the personal lives of Aspen residents Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell in frightening detail.

Sunday

8 AM: While Lauren dozed, I snuck out and tried once again to summit Red Mountain. I made it 1,600 vertical feet this time, about 600 short of the summit, before reaching my predetermined turn around time. This left me in a gigantic field of Aspen trees and wildflowers, which, let me tell you, is not a bad place to be. By the time I got down and back to the house, my girl was up and ready for breakfast.

11 AM: Went to the Wienerstube, also one of Rachel Ray’s choices. The food was excellent; on par with Scojos, sacrilegious as that may be.

12 PM -5 PM: Back to Glenwood Springs. You know, people say my wife must posses infinite patience to teach special education, but to be fair, until you’ve gone grocery shopping with Lauren, you have no idea what patience really it is. Her movement through the store is a study in meticulousness; nothing is left to chance. Even a decision as seemingly innocuous as which paper towels to buy requires prolonged, detailed analysis. If it’s not price, it’s quantity. If it’s not quantity, it’s quality. At one point, she insisted I start arbitrarily spilling things so we could test absorption rates. OK, I made that last part up, but it was definitely within the realm of possibility.

6 PM: We stopped by Wal-Mart so I could buy a $50 mountain bike. What could go wrong?

8 PM: While Lauren and I were riding our bikes downtown for some Ben & Jerry’s, my $50 bike broke. Go figure. Lauren had to take the bus home, get our car, and come rescue me. I'll chalk this up as my most foolish purchase since that ham radio I bought when I was twelve.

Some weekend, huh? We pretty much filled every minute, which you’re kinda’ sorta’ forced to do when you don’t have a working television around to distract you from reality.

To top it all of, the weekend ended on a very happy note. When my wife came back downtown to pick me up, she ran into a familiar foe. And this time, she was ready...

The Pictures are Moving! What an Age We Live In.

Great Pics!

Ok...finally my computer is up and running so here are some of our favorite pictures from this last week from my camera. The one of me and the one of Tony were from yesterday at the Grottos. It was so pretty! Obviously I was very proud of myself for completing my first hike here. The sunset was taken the first night of our travels in Illinois. I will take some pics of our home soon and post them.

We've got a big day tomorrow. Actually a pretty nice little Saturday, really...We're gonna' hike in the morning, visit the Ducky Derby, and we're gonna go to Home Depot. Buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed Bath and Beyond, I don't know. I don't know if we'll have enough time!

Anatomy of A Trail Run

Ahh, trail running. There's nothing quite as liberating as forsaking the asphalt in favor of the dirt, rocks, and stumps of the trail. If Joseph Conrad had been an outdoor enthusiast rather than a merchant marine, he likely would have written "Heart of Darkness" about a run into the mountains rather than a trip up the Congo River.

With each step of a climb, you find yourself more and more removed from civilization; more and more one with nature. Away go the sounds of modern life -- the relentless rumbling of the cars, the incessant rattle of nearby construction, the people shuffling and talking, shuffling and talking -- until all you're left with is...silence. It's akin to going back in time. Or at least it would be, if it weren't for all the cool technology...

Here are my very own Salomon XA Pros (you didn't think Lauren thought of it all by herself, did you?) As noted in my earlier post, they truly are equipped to handle anything. Without shoes like these, rock-strewn singletrack would devastate your ankles. Attached to the right shoe is a Polar foot pod; it tracks distance and more importantly, elevation and total ascent. This way you know when you're nearing the top of a long climb. Without it, it is very easy for your spirit to be broken on a seemingly never-ending stretch of switchbacks.

McConnel taping. It's a testament to modern medicine that two strips of tape can undo 30 years of poor genetic tracking of my patella tendon. This simple tape job succeeded where four months of physical therapy failed.

Gotta' love the Fuel Belt. I know my lovely sister Karen did, before I stole it. Sorry, Kar, but you wouldn't want me to be thirsty out here, would you?

Equipped to hold 32 ounces of water, a cell phone, water purifiers, and a bit of food, it's essential for any undertaking over 45 minutes. Climbs can get very hot, and it is easy for your body to fail you above 11,000 feet without emergency food. Also, as my former training partners from Colorado can attest, I wasn't exactly blessed with an impeccable sense of direction. I've been lost a couple of times, and run out of water once. Without the purifier, you'd be left drinking from a mountain stream, which nine times out of ten will mean giardia, a nasty little bug that will leave you in the bathroom for the better part of a week.

Finally, the eyewear. Nothing says "super-hip" like amber-tinted sunglasses! Most trails wind through dense forests before summitting, meaning shade is constant. With dark sunglasses, it would be difficult to differentiate between trail and rock and root, meaning a busted ankle, particularly on the descent, is a distinct possibility.

The Just Rewards

And this is why you don all that funny gear. Views like this. Today's trail run literally left from our back yard (that's something I've always dreamed about being able to do, by the way). A steep descent and 1 mile on a dirt path (think canal path at home) led me to the turn off for the SunnySide trail. From there, the run took a decided turn in the direction of UP.

Out of shape as I am, I was only able to climb around 900 feet before I met my pre-determined turn-around time. I believe there was another 1,000 feet or so until the summit, but as you can see, even from my stopping point, the views were remarkable.

If you look to the back center of the photo, you can see Aspen Highlands ski area in all its lush summer green. The ski trails are clearly visible. To the far left, you can begin to make out the Aspen (Ajax) ski area. As I progress along this climb, I'm told the summit view gives you a downward vantage point on the entire city of Aspen. Can't wait.

Red Shoes, the Angel Wants to Wear Her Red Shoes

Sorry for the Elvis Costello reference, but that's the best I can do to explain Lauren's latest purchase. Unhappy with her performance footwear, my lovely wife went down to Ute Mountaineering and demanded a shoe that could keep up with her aggressive new lifestyle. She scoffed at Saucany, pshawed Pumas, and mocked Mizunos. Only the Salomon XA Comps, commonly referred to as "trail tanks" to those in the know, were shoe enough for her.

Let me be the first to tell you, these shoes are the real deal. They come with a Gore-Tex outer, so your feet stay dry even if crossing a stream. The lace locks are standard, so you need never be bothered again with such a menial task as tying your shoes. And most impressively, if Lauren clicks her heels together three times, the shoes magically transport her to the Fares Christmas party, regardless of the time of year. Or maybe the salesperson just made that last part up to close her hundred dollar sale. You never can tell with those people.

Hike #2: Weller Lake

..Weller Lake.

Also located off of Independence Pass, Weller Lake is exactly that, a high-alpine lake nestled in a bowl between Difficult Peak and New York Peak. Unlike the Grottos, we had to work much harder on this hike, as the climb from the trailhead to the lake was steep and unforgiving. The rewards, however, were spectacular.

Climbing along the rock-strewn singletrack, with thick forest seemingly extending for miles, it doesn't seem possible that a huge body of water could be hidden amongst the trees. But as you ascend the final short climb, there it is: the clearest lake you've ever seen, comprised solely of run-off from the snow of winters long ago.

If you look closely at the upper right hand corner of the picture, you can make out a large "missing" patch of mountain, the result of an avalanche that pulverized everything in its path. It's an amazing thing to see.

Hike #1: The Grottos

There's your Jersey girl, posing on a bridge traversing the Roaring Fork River. Fully equipped with hiking shoes, a North Face backpack, and a Camelback hydration system, Lauren was ready to take on her first high-altitude hike as an Aspen local: the Grottos.

Starting at 9,000 feet and climbing gently, the Grottos has it all -- pools, ice caves, overlooks, forests, rock cliffs, and as you will see below, beautiful waterfalls. Lauren and I got going at around 9 AM on a bluebird morning, making the drive up Independence Pass until we hit the Grottos trailhead.

Her confidence soaring, Lauren cancelled her plans for a mid-morning pedicure and instead insisted on moving on to our second hike...