Conquering Monumental Miles at Tour of the Moon

We kicked things off post-work, trading our office chairs for the charmingly haunted Annie Oakley Motel. Think neon signs, a dash of vintage flair, and mattresses that may or may not be stuffed with actual rocks. But after a full day of work and driving, even a haunted mattress feels like a luxury.

The next morning, we hit the road toward Fruita, CO, with Big Bertha—Stefie's borrowed bike—desperately in need of some brake TLC. Easy, right? Nope. The local bike shop turned us away like we were trying to check a penguin into a dog show. “Too fancy for us,” they said. Lesson learned: Fruita’s bike snobs and Big Bertha do not mix. Troy’s holding a grudge against that shop till the end of time.

With Stefie’s bike drama on hold, we killed time by pedaling around town, screaming “Frrrrruuiiittaaa!” like telenovela stars trying out for Broadway. Hangry and barely holding onto my sanity, I almost took Troy’s head off for not feeding me immediately. Note to self: always feed your ride buddy first. Trust me.

Finally, the crew arrived, and we ditched Big Bertha for a rental, snagged our ride packets in Grand Junction, and headed out to meet up with Dave, Jenny, Brian, and Kari for some serious carb-loading. Pasta on pasta—because the next day, we weren’t just biking; we were climbing mountains.

Saturday morning, bright and early, it was game time. The Tour of the Moon kicked off at 7:30 AM, and we were ready-ish. With full bellies and some nerves, we tackled the first 1500-foot climb up the Colorado National Monument. The views were epic, the climb brutal, and we definitely stopped more for photo ops than rest breaks (it’s all for Strava, right?).

The final 5 miles hit us with a sneaky 3% incline, making us question all our life choices. But nothing beats crossing that finish line and celebrating with a well-earned, ice-cold beer. Victory, thy name is hops.

Post-ride, we headed to a concert with a killer band and the world's worst stage setup. Picture a massive tree blocking the entire view—because, why not? Brian narrated this botanical disaster like a nature doc. We spent the whole set drafting the most passive-aggressive email to the event planners.

Later, we explored Fruita and discovered... weird trivia. Did you know Ryan Seacrest used to flip pizzas here before his TV fame? And let’s not forget Mike the Headless Chicken, Fruita's most famous resident. Oh, and Jenny and I somehow managed to make a stationary pink bike look, um, questionable. Dave? He lived his best life “riding” an old-school giant-wheel bike like a kid on Christmas morning.

The night ended with bike yoga—yes, that’s a thing. We attempted poses on bikes that made regular yoga look like a walk in the park. Graceful? Not at all. Hilarious? Absolutely.

Sunday was all about recovery. We took a scenic Jeep ride up the monument—without the burning legs—and enjoyed the views without fearing for our lungs. Then it was game time: Lions, Chiefs, nachos, and more shots than should be legal before noon. Shout out to Troy for keeping the bar busy.

By 8 PM, we were done. Bedtime came early, and we earned every bit of it. Till next time, Fruuuuiiiitttaaa! May your bike shops be kinder, your hills be flatter, and your post-ride beers be forever cold. 🚴‍♂️🍻