The three-eighths-mile ovals of the world -- paved and dirt -- will never get the ink or the airtime accorded the big super-speedways, and the drivers who spend their Saturday nights careening around these circuits don't get any Jeff Gordon-style endorsement contracts. But they are the lifeblood of U.S. stock-car racing, and Arvada's Jerry Robertson is one of the best of the bunch. Last summer at Colorado National Speedway, just south of Dacono, Robertson took home his second late-model season title in four years when he piloted his number 75 Chevrolet to an amazing eleven victories in eighteen races (and sixteen top-five finishes). That was also good enough to win the Northwest Regional title in NASCAR's Dodge Weekly Series, contested by drivers in six western states. Way to go, Leadfoot.


The track at Denver Indoor Kart Racing isn't one of those wussy kids' tracks with accelerator regulators and lanes that are too narrow to pass in. This is the real deal -- and worth the hunt to find the obscure warehouse just north of I-70. Helmets are required -- yes, the carts can spin out -- but the front desk sells head socks so you don't have to swap sweat with strangers. For first-timers, a good trip around the quarter-mile track is 27 seconds, but pros can whittle it down to a mere 21 seconds. Anyone taller than 4' 8" can drive the adult cars, but the year-and-a-half-old facility also has a corral of junior carts on hand so that the whole family can compete against each other. Gentlemen, start your engines.
The track at Denver Indoor Kart Racing isn't one of those wussy kids' tracks with accelerator regulators and lanes that are too narrow to pass in. This is the real deal -- and worth the hunt to find the obscure warehouse just north of I-70. Helmets are required -- yes, the carts can spin out -- but the front desk sells head socks so you don't have to swap sweat with strangers. For first-timers, a good trip around the quarter-mile track is 27 seconds, but pros can whittle it down to a mere 21 seconds. Anyone taller than 4' 8" can drive the adult cars, but the year-and-a-half-old facility also has a corral of junior carts on hand so that the whole family can compete against each other. Gentlemen, start your engines.

Best Athlete -- Voluntarily Disabled Division

Aron Ralston

We've heard of men changing genders and then competing in women's events, and even of women switching teams to compete. Michael Jordan changed sports, and boxer Roy Jones Jr. juggles weight divisions so often you never know where he'll end up. But there's only one athlete we know of who went from being an excellent, able-bodied outdoorsman to a one-armed top jock over the course of a couple of bloody hours. A four-limbed climber of some renown around his home of Aspen, Aron Ralston famously hacked off his own wing with a pocket knife after finding himself trapped under a rock during a solo climb. These days, the tri-limbed Ralston is concentrating on adventure racing. It's unknown if team members permit him to carry his own blade.

Best Athlete -- Voluntarily Disabled Division

Aron Ralston

We've heard of men changing genders and then competing in women's events, and even of women switching teams to compete. Michael Jordan changed sports, and boxer Roy Jones Jr. juggles weight divisions so often you never know where he'll end up. But there's only one athlete we know of who went from being an excellent, able-bodied outdoorsman to a one-armed top jock over the course of a couple of bloody hours. A four-limbed climber of some renown around his home of Aspen, Aron Ralston famously hacked off his own wing with a pocket knife after finding himself trapped under a rock during a solo climb. These days, the tri-limbed Ralston is concentrating on adventure racing. It's unknown if team members permit him to carry his own blade.


You think Patrick Roy had an illustrious career? Ha! While Roy hung up his pads last year, Larry Imperiale, the king of freestyle Frisbee, is still hucking disc with the best of them. The software developer, who lives in the foothills west of Denver, has been finishing on top of 'bee tournaments for four decades, and he's won major titles in three of them. The easiest way to tell he's a legend? A freestyle move, the Laerbs Kick, is named after him (Laerbs is his nickname). For anyone who's on the far side of forty and still harbors dreams of athletic grandeur, pay attention: The Kick involves keeping the Frisbee spinning and aloft by brushing the rim every few seconds -- with your foot.
You think Patrick Roy had an illustrious career? Ha! While Roy hung up his pads last year, Larry Imperiale, the king of freestyle Frisbee, is still hucking disc with the best of them. The software developer, who lives in the foothills west of Denver, has been finishing on top of 'bee tournaments for four decades, and he's won major titles in three of them. The easiest way to tell he's a legend? A freestyle move, the Laerbs Kick, is named after him (Laerbs is his nickname). For anyone who's on the far side of forty and still harbors dreams of athletic grandeur, pay attention: The Kick involves keeping the Frisbee spinning and aloft by brushing the rim every few seconds -- with your foot.


The wait for machines and the posturing at those big fitness centers is enough reason to skip the gym altogether. And the steam-room culture -- and price -- of Denver's elite clubs isn't much better. But at Dumbbells, $50 a month for singles and $80 for couples buys you access to a clean, well-maintained weight room with little to no wait (except during lunch), yoga and aerobics classes, locker rooms fully stocked with lotions, potions and hairdryers, a juice bar, and a staff that's excited about fitness -- not just about getting your money. Plus, there's the "Just Show Up" incentive: Come fifteen times in the first six weeks of membership, and the club will refund you $25. Sure, you'll have to skip the steam room, but Dumbbells makes up for it with an even more rare amenity: free two-hour parking in the Tabor Center garage.
The wait for machines and the posturing at those big fitness centers is enough reason to skip the gym altogether. And the steam-room culture -- and price -- of Denver's elite clubs isn't much better. But at Dumbbells, $50 a month for singles and $80 for couples buys you access to a clean, well-maintained weight room with little to no wait (except during lunch), yoga and aerobics classes, locker rooms fully stocked with lotions, potions and hairdryers, a juice bar, and a staff that's excited about fitness -- not just about getting your money. Plus, there's the "Just Show Up" incentive: Come fifteen times in the first six weeks of membership, and the club will refund you $25. Sure, you'll have to skip the steam room, but Dumbbells makes up for it with an even more rare amenity: free two-hour parking in the Tabor Center garage.


Oxford Club Spa
There are yoga studios and yoga styles to suit almost any practitioner -- but not just any budget: A serious yogi is looking at dropping $120 a month for a class card at most studios. At the Oxford Club, $50 a month ($600 a year) buys yoga seven days a week, plus access to the work-out facilities -- weights, free weights, treadmills, bikes -- and locker rooms stocked with Aveda products. But just because the price is low doesn't mean the studio is some dank, second-rate space. It's light, airy and big enough to spread out in. To sweeten the deal, membership includes twelve free-valet vouchers and discounts at McCormick's restaurant and on spa services and nights in the Oxford Hotel. Om.

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