Best Way for a Non-Athlete to Trek Around Town and the Colorado High Country
Brett Voeller
I am a 45-year-old man in Woodland Park who is over six feet tall and weighs more than 300 pounds.
In addition, I am like many people of the generation that grew up believing bicycles were supposed to be equal parts exercise, suffering, and chain grease. If you got to the top of a hill without questioning your life choices, were you even biking?
Then my friend Trevor (Phipps of TMJ News) ruined that perception.
About a year ago, Trevor asked me to join him on an e-bike rental for an article he was writing for the Jackpot. I wasn’t busy. I was a little curious, and I figured the worst-case scenario was a mildly embarrassing afternoon in bike shorts. The bikes came from Paul Magnuson, owner of Team Telecycle, a shop located in Woodland Park where Baldwin meets Hwy. 24.
Paul gave us a quick rundown on how these high-tech machines worked, and a few minutes later Trevor and I were headed toward Manitou Lake at about 20 miles per hour, wearing the kind of expressions usually reserved for children on Christmas morning.
It was a good day. We rode to the lake, looped partway back, stopped for a drink at Shining Mountain Golf Course, then continued on to Judge’s Char-Grill for lunch before returning the bikes. We still had about 40 percent battery left. I came away impressed, but also realistic. The rental bike I used had very little suspension, and for a man of my size in our terrain, it didn’t always have enough power to make every situation feel effortless. I filed that information away under “Interesting, but not quite for me…maybe.”
Then summer started sneaking up again, and the idea came back.
Finding the Right Equipment
So, I went to see Paul (Magnuson) again and gave him my wish list. Number one was suspension. Number two was more power. I also wanted something that could be repaired and upgraded without needing to consult NASA. Front and rear lights were non-negotiable, and optional storage sounded smart for real-life use. To his credit, Paul did not laugh at my very specific middle-aged requirements. He basically said, “You want the Aventon Adventure 3.”
He was right. I bought a large, step-through Aventon Adventure 3 in cobalt blue. It checked every box on my list. It’s one of the best-reviewed e-bikes out there, has a very impressive security system and phone app, and at the time was on sale for $1,799, down from $2,000. I bought it and put 100 miles on it in the first week, which is probably the clearest sign that I had accidentally found something I genuinely enjoyed.
What sold me fastest was how well an e-bike fits mountain life in Woodland Park. Around here, the issue is not whether you enjoy riding a bike. The issue is whether you enjoy riding a bike uphill while breathing through what feels like a coffee stirrer. Even fit young people can be seen walking traditional bikes up some of our steeper hills. The Adventure 3, on the other hand, treats hills like a minor clerical matter.
In Eco mode, it offsets the bike’s own substantial weight, which is close to pounds, and makes flat riding feel like a normal bike. Sport mode turns most hills into something manageable. Turbo mode feels borderline unfair, like you somehow negotiated a special arrangement with gravity. One of the best things about it is that you can choose your struggle. If I want more exercise, I dial it back. If I want to go somewhere without getting sweaty and reconsidering my choices, I dial it up.
And that, to me, is the real revelation of e-bikes. Purists like to argue about whether they “count” as exercise, which feels a little like arguing whether a salad counts if it tastes good.
In my case, the answer is simple: it counts because I’m actually doing it. I’ve ridden 227.2 miles so far, and the app says I’ve burned nearly 3,000 calories. Is it the same as grinding up a mountain on a traditional bike? No. Is it dramatically more exercise than sitting on my couch thinking about maybe exercising someday? Absolutely.
The Adventure 3 has also changed how I move around town. Going out for meals is easier because I can get seated at most places faster than if I drove and dealt with parking. Errands like the post office, library, or pharmacy become quick little missions instead of full-blown automotive events. I can be out the door in seconds and back home just as quickly. That kind of convenience matters more than people think, especially when the alternative is taking a two-ton vehicle to go pick up something the size of a prescription bottle.
Then there’s the exploring. I’ve spent a lot of time riding roads and trails I might never have bothered with otherwise, including a few that looked promising as routes to secret fishing spots. One sobering lesson has been discovering exactly how much private property lies at the end of long, inviting roads around here.
Still, it’s been a great way to see parts of this area I hadn’t seen in five years of living here. I’ve ridden from Fairview and Hwy. 24 to Russ’ Place in Divide, about 18 miles round trip, and from that same starting point to the Mad Hatter in Chipita Park on another ride of similar distance. Because of my size, I don’t get close to the maximum advertised range, but for a smaller rider, -mile round trips would likely be no problem.
Extra batteries exist, though they’re heavy and cost about $500, which is just enough to make me pedal a little more thoughtfully.
What I did not expect was how quickly the bike would become part of my routine and, honestly, part of my outlook. I’m outside more. I’m getting a modest but real amount of exercise.
I’m running errands more efficiently. I’m noticing my town in a new way. I’m seeing roads, views, and corners of Teller County that used to exist only as windshield scenery.
Being a middle-aged man can make you think your exciting new hobbies are behind you. E-biking has been a nice reminder that maybe they aren’t. Sometimes the trick is not trying to become a different person. Sometimes it’s just finding better equipment for being the person you already are.
This summer, I’ve got my sights set on riding from my house to the Wines of Colorado in Cascade and making the trip to Rampart Reservoir.
That may not qualify me for the Tour de France, but it does qualify as progress. At the age of 45, I’ll take that trade every time.
