Most professional snowboarders are all about themselves: What move can I bust today? Will my picture be in the next magazine spread? Breckenridge's Jesse Csincsak is the rare exception: a snowboarder who gives back to his sport. Four years ago, the Ohio native started J-SAK Snowboarding, a non-profit corporation that raised money -- and then gave it away to promising young riders. The cash isn't about to make anyone rich; a season pass and some tournament entry fees are standard endowments from J-SAK. But for a demographic that is marginally employed to begin with, a few extra bucks can keep a boarder in ramen for an entire season.


Most professional snowboarders are all about themselves: What move can I bust today? Will my picture be in the next magazine spread? Breckenridge's Jesse Csincsak is the rare exception: a snowboarder who gives back to his sport. Four years ago, the Ohio native started J-SAK Snowboarding, a non-profit corporation that raised money -- and then gave it away to promising young riders. The cash isn't about to make anyone rich; a season pass and some tournament entry fees are standard endowments from J-SAK. But for a demographic that is marginally employed to begin with, a few extra bucks can keep a boarder in ramen for an entire season.

With the traffic and crowds, sometimes you just have to leave the I-70 corridor to get a relaxing skiing experience. Try driving west another hour to Glenwood Springs. Ten miles outside the city, you'll find Sunlight, a nostalgic world away from the hustle and bustle of the Summit County madhouse. Decent-sized -- the longest ride is four miles long -- Sunlight sells lift tickets all season for only $36, 1980 prices at most other resorts. Parking is free; a studio rental in the well-worn, nearly forty-year-old ski-in, ski-out Brettelberg condos is just $120 a night; and a lift line is as rare a sighting as a Yeti.

Sunlight Mountain Resort
Courtesy Sunlight Mountain Resort Facebook page
With the traffic and crowds, sometimes you just have to leave the I-70 corridor to get a relaxing skiing experience. Try driving west another hour to Glenwood Springs. Ten miles outside the city, you'll find Sunlight, a nostalgic world away from the hustle and bustle of the Summit County madhouse. Decent-sized -- the longest ride is four miles long -- Sunlight sells lift tickets all season for only $36, 1980 prices at most other resorts. Parking is free; a studio rental in the well-worn, nearly forty-year-old ski-in, ski-out Brettelberg condos is just $120 a night; and a lift line is as rare a sighting as a Yeti.

The logic of snowshoeing became apparent around here two years ago this March, when some blizzard-socked folks used the devices to get from their living rooms to their garages. But snowshoeing has benefits beyond survival -- and 'S No Wonder! Tours, run out of the Breckenridge Nordic Center, offers folks the chance to get on the mountain without being run over by a crazed snow-cyclist. A half-day trip up Peak 7 to the Hallelujah Hut is just the thing to make winter cool again.


The logic of snowshoeing became apparent around here two years ago this March, when some blizzard-socked folks used the devices to get from their living rooms to their garages. But snowshoeing has benefits beyond survival -- and 'S No Wonder! Tours, run out of the Breckenridge Nordic Center, offers folks the chance to get on the mountain without being run over by a crazed snow-cyclist. A half-day trip up Peak 7 to the Hallelujah Hut is just the thing to make winter cool again.

Just because you paid $3,000 for your new titanium-and-carbon-fiber ride doesn't mean the bike fits your physique. And having the right-sized cycle can mean the difference between hours of blissful injury-free pedaling and weeks of constant rehab for your clicking knees. Many bike shops now offer a bike-fitting service. But why mess around? Go to the guy who literally invented the concept: Andy Pruitt, director of the Boulder Center for Sports Medicine. At $180 for a "performance" fit or $400 for a three-dimensional cycling analysis, Pruitt or one of his staff will customize your bike to your body's twisted idiosyncrasies. Ride on!

Just because you paid $3,000 for your new titanium-and-carbon-fiber ride doesn't mean the bike fits your physique. And having the right-sized cycle can mean the difference between hours of blissful injury-free pedaling and weeks of constant rehab for your clicking knees. Many bike shops now offer a bike-fitting service. But why mess around? Go to the guy who literally invented the concept: Andy Pruitt, director of the Boulder Center for Sports Medicine. At $180 for a "performance" fit or $400 for a three-dimensional cycling analysis, Pruitt or one of his staff will customize your bike to your body's twisted idiosyncrasies. Ride on!

Everyone knows about the pernicious effect of money in politics: Fancy-cat lobbyists use gobs of cash to sleaze their evil corporate agendas into sweetheart legislation. That's exactly what Jenn Dice, the government liaison for the Golden-based IMBA, does...not. In place of the regular cocktail-party circuit usually plied by Beltway lobbyists, IMBA dispatches Dice, 33, to introduce legislative staffers to its bike-friendly agenda by convincing them to get outside and on a mountain bike. Each year, the organization sponsors spring and fall rides in Riverbend Park in Fairfax County, Virginia. A literal breath of fresh air, the muddy gatherings give the desk-bound policy wonks a saddle-side opportunity to see what mountain biking is all about. And it doesn't suck for Dice, a former lobbyist for Colorado counties, either. "It's really cool," she admits. "It lets me combine what I love doing with my government experience."


Everyone knows about the pernicious effect of money in politics: Fancy-cat lobbyists use gobs of cash to sleaze their evil corporate agendas into sweetheart legislation. That's exactly what Jenn Dice, the government liaison for the Golden-based IMBA, does...not. In place of the regular cocktail-party circuit usually plied by Beltway lobbyists, IMBA dispatches Dice, 33, to introduce legislative staffers to its bike-friendly agenda by convincing them to get outside and on a mountain bike. Each year, the organization sponsors spring and fall rides in Riverbend Park in Fairfax County, Virginia. A literal breath of fresh air, the muddy gatherings give the desk-bound policy wonks a saddle-side opportunity to see what mountain biking is all about. And it doesn't suck for Dice, a former lobbyist for Colorado counties, either. "It's really cool," she admits. "It lets me combine what I love doing with my government experience."

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