Backyard Roulette
Windows Fear Me
The winter light was already plotting its escape when I swung a leg over DarkWing and pointed toward the Kim Williams Trail. It was a Wednesday, mid-December, the kind of evening where sensible people are inside doing sensible things. But I had a loop to run, a quick and dirty circuit I’d been calling The Q&D, and the clock read 5:30 PM, which meant I had maybe forty minutes of usable twilight. Maybe.
I threaded through Missoula’s east side, past the familiar turns where pavement gives way to something rougher, something better. The COROS was ticking away on my wrist, dutifully recording every pedal stroke as I skirted Mount Sentinel’s shoulders and climbed into the terrain above East Missoula. This is where things get interesting. And by interesting I mean the kind of singletrack that, in fading light, transforms from “fun technical challenge” into “one bobble away from becoming someone’s uninvited backyard guest.”
I’m not exaggerating. The trail up there runs along slopes that terminate directly in residential property. A misplaced pedal, a front wheel washing out on loose stuff, and suddenly you’re not just off the trail... you’re through somebody’s back window, explaining yourself to a very startled family mid-dinner. “Sorry about the glass, folks. Nice lasagna.” The exposure is real. The consequences are absurd. Someone should really fix that section, but here I am riding it anyway, in December, as the sun clocks out for the day.
And yet.
Thirteen miles later, 722 feet of climbing in the legs, averaging nearly 13 mph with a moving time just over an hour, I rolled back into town with that particular satisfaction only a quick, slightly reckless loop can provide. The cold air had done its job, I had managed to not crash through any residential architecture. Training load: 109. Windows shattered: zero.