I had over 2000 miles in my legs by October of 2009. Maybe not a lot of miles by some standards, but for me it was plenty. I had spent the first 1000 miles getting ready to ride the Kokopelli Trail in April, 2009. I rode Falcon Trail a lot - it’s my lunch time ride. I rode Palmer Park. I rode bike paths to get to Palmer Park. I rode bike paths to get to other bike paths.

During that year I rode a lot with a buddy who rode a single speed 29er. Besides the fact he’s ten years younger, he was always faster. My fastest time on Falcon Trail was about one hour thirty two minutes. With rest stops. His was about an hour fifteen minutes. It got to the point where we had an unspoken agreement. We’d start the ride together, but at the first big climb, he was usually gone. By the time I stumbled back to work, he was dressed and at his desk. I always chalked it up to the three extra inches on his tire, or my fitness (or lack thereof). It was, I suspect, a little of the former and a lot of the latter.

During that period, I had spent a lot upgrading my bike. I found a great deal on a Fox fork, Cane Creek wheels and SRAM components. I even found a newer GF frame. I lightened the bike to about 23 pounds. Not bad for a mid-level Gary Fisher. I spent so much on my bike my wife had a nickname for it. Coral. It's a Marlin, and if you’ve seen “Finding Nemo”, you might get the connection.

I had a lot invested in the bike – physically and mentally.

So it was with a great deal of alarm I realized, quite suddenly, I was burned out.

I would get anxious around lunchtime. It was time to get a ride in, but my body said no. Hell no, actually. I rode, but I was going through the motions. Falcon trail was boring. Palmer Park was boring. I even rode up The Chutes to Highline, then down Cheyenne Canyon, back to my truck parked near CMHS. Yawn.

So I stopped. I stopped riding, and for about a month, I didn’t touch my bike. I was afraid I’d never ride again, but I couldn’t really get excited about something that in reality saved my life.

In November, after not riding for a month, I started to think I should try the whole single speed, 29er thing. I started doing a little research. Being a short guy, I saw the feedback about toe lap. That 29er’s aren’t for short
people - only tall folks benefit from a 29er. I found out a lot of companies make 29ers, but not as many make single speeds. I made a spreadsheet with geometries, prices and components. I was actually getting
excited about getting a new bike.

Then in December, almost on a whim, I stopped by a bike shop. They had a Redline Monocog. I decided it was time to take the plunge. With some Christmas money, I walked out with a brand new bike.

My first ride was interesting. From my part of town near the Citadel Mall, I have to climb a fairly substantial hill to cross Palmer Park Boulevard. I don’t know what the elevation gain is, but on a 26” geared bike, it was tough. On a single speed, it was tougher. As I got into the climb, I kept looking for my shifter. “Oh crap, this is hard!” I kept going, standing on the pedals, struggling to keep my momentum. I made it to the top, barely. The downhill was nice, and I enjoyed coasting while I got my breath back. I got to Rock Island Trail, then to the Santa Fe Trail to Goose Gossage Park, then over the cycle bridge to Nevada, and then east. I struggled up Templeton Gap Road, and stopped to rest at the entrance to Palmer Park. It was hard, but I was having a blast! No gears to shift, just pedal and go.

The rest of the story? I’m hooked. I put a lot of miles on the Redline, mostly fire roads on the Academy and romps into Palmer Park. In mid-February, I found a smoking deal on a Gary Fisher Rig at Pro Cycling.
It was lighter and had a front shock. After about 250 miles on the rigid Redline, I decided front suspension
was a must. I did another 400 miles on the Rig, with a trip on the Kokopelli trail in May of 2010. I’ve learned a couple of valuable lessons in single speed riding. Some I knew, and some presented themselves in the form of pain.

Momentum is your friend. With a geared bike, it’s easy to shift into your granny gear and pedal over obstacles. My buddy calls this ‘hiding behind your gears’. Developing the leg strength to pedal over an obstacle is key. I’ve had a lot more low speed ‘get-offs’, but I’m slowly refining this skill.

Downhill is for resting. My geared approach to climbing was to sit and spin up on an uphill, then rest at the top. I quickly realized I could continue on the other side, bring my breathing and heartbeat into a comfortable zone and get ready for the next climb.

Riding a single speed is liberating. It’s not just about the lack of shifting. I no longer have to spend an
hour a week cleaning my drive train. Adjusting the derailleur. Worrying about chain stretch, and protecting my frame from chain slap and chain suck.

29ers are for big people. Maybe in the early days this was true. But with the number of companies making 29ers, and the refinement in frame geometries, this is no longer true. You will find yourself a stronger rider if
you switch to a single speed 29er.

I look forward to riding now. I feel I'm in the best shape of my life. A lot of this has to do with my bike. In fact, this bike is the first bike I’ve ever had that fit. It fits so well, I’m not sure I’ll ever get rid of it. I may do a little upgrading, but I’m pretty happy with it.

I may, at some point, get another bike – a full suspension geared bike. It will be a 29er, that much I know. I still have my 26” hardtail, hanging in the garage.

Maybe one day I’ll take it out for a spin. Then again, maybe I won’t.