Today I did something out of the ordinary — I rode my mountain bike. And in an even more startling departure from the norm, I rode it in Cheyenne Mountain State Park.

What can I tell you? I was sick of my usual rides and got all Monty Python on my bad self (“And now for something completely different. …”).

It feels wrong to write about this place again, because this park continues to be largely undiscovered. In two and a half hours of riding I encountered two hikers, four mountain bikers and one extremely hard individual who was running the trails with a large rucksack and ski poles. It ain’t exactly I-25 at rush hour, is what I’m sayin’ here.

My outing took in Zook Loop, Sundance, Talon, North and South Talon and Blackmer Loop, and oh, man, was it ever fun, despite my minimal and rusty skills. I may not be the world’s worst mountain biker, but will do until he (or she) shows up.

I middle-ringed pretty much everything until machismo proved to be stupidissimo — a guy with the right legs and medical plan can ride quite a few of these trails on a cyclo-cross bike — and then I became one with the Tao of the Little Ring. Nobody’s watching, so there was no one to impress.

My park pass ($6 at the gate) is good until noon tomorrow, so I may just dash out there again. After all, I only heard the one rattlesnake, and the bears, bobcats and mountain lions apparently are on vacation.