The speed is getting faster now as I head down Park City's Spiro trail. The red snake of the trail whips in wild arcs ahead, requiring exacting concentration despite the fact that water is now streaming out the side of my eye sockets. I dip my bars into a sharp corner, trying to hang on to this giddy pace, and hear the machine gun-paced "Whap! Whap! Whap!" as leaves on the inside of the corner slap my hands. It's an exposure to pure cheek-flapping trail speed that's only registered a handful of times in my years on a bike. To read the full article, please click here.