"Pfffft," I thought to myself, maybe even getting a little spit on my laptop screen as my inner thoughts became outer thoughts, "Shavano and Tabeguache will be just like Bel/Ox. Similar mileage, similar elevation gain, and unlike when I climbed their northern neighbors in June, I'll be conditioned from seven other fourteeners this season when I tackle S&T!"
Those of us who did the reading in high school and college lit classes knows what happens to those who suffer from serious cases of hubris. This one, at least, didn't end with death, accidental incest, or the utter ruin of formerly proud kingdoms - in fact, the worst I suffered was a sore IT band on my left knee (at least it wasn't my driving leg, though I am left-side dominant, so it's been a literal pain everywhere outside of my car) and a small taste of humble pie.
In short, I only had enough wind in my sails for Shavano. I don't know whether it was the cold (which had gotten to my toes on the summit, and as a Type I diabetic, I have to pay attention to that for fear of amputations), the wind (which wasn't the worst I've put up with - both Harvard and Columbia were worse), or the purely agonizing, seemingly Sisyphean nature of the slog uphill.
I'd attempted Shav/Tab a week and a half before. I chalked my inability to get above ~11,600 that time to allergy-induced asthma* from staying in a condo that hadn't been vacuumed since the last time a dog who excels at shedding spent a weekend there. I turned around, pounded allergy meds and took ritual puffs of my inhaler the rest of the day, went to bed early, and successfully climbed Columbia the next day.
This time, I stayed in my own pet hair-free home the night before, brought the inhaler just the same, and was chagrined to find that I was just as out of breath as, and doing little better timewise than, on my recent attempt.
With the paradoxical liberation of realizing that hiking this one was going to suck harder then the tornado that carried Dorothy off to Oz no matter what, I decided to press on. I knew already that I was unlikely to make the Tabeguache traverse, starved for oxygen as I already was, and thus I vowed to at least bag the one so that I would never have to ascend this loathsome lungbuster of a sub-treeline incline ever again.
The snow was minimal and mostly avoidable, and I didn't see much on the traverse when I did reach the summit. Still, I took one look at the rocky road ahead and confirmed that continuing on to Tab was a solid, "Aw hellllllll no."
Even though I regret that decision ever so slightly now that I've looked at the West Slopes "trail" description (ffs, I thought I was done with the Choose Your Own Adventure: Sawatches Edition after I bagged Columbia earlier this month!), I know I made the right call. I'm more stiff after this one than I was after any of the others I've done this season, and even though I set a personal season record for time spent hiking (helped by the fact that the cold and wind were just dismal enough that I only spent five minutes on the summit), this one felt like it delivered the harshest ass (and knee)-kicking I've received in a while.
It also didn't help the overall mood that I was promised sunny skies, though in the National Weather Service's defense, I suspect most of those "clouds" were actually smoke from the controlled burns in the area. Still, it definitely felt like winter was winning out.
I am nonetheless quite pleased that I got Shavano checked off, if only because trails where that much of the elevation gain takes place below treeline can go do inappropriate things to themselves.
*Yes, I did indeed hit the genetic lottery. X(
P.S. Anyone wanna do Tab in the next couple weeks?! 
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