After 1,323 miles on the trainer during a mild winter, this afternoon was my first outdoor ride since December.
Right from the start, and throughout this 30-miler, it was wonderful. The weather was perfect. The wind was in my face. My legs burned, but kept going, and I got a text that my lovely bride’s swim had been canceled, and that she, too, was going out for a ride. I managed to find her, and we did the last six miles or so together.
Now, at last, spring is here.
Erudite wheelmen would speak of the hum of their wheels, the grip of bar tape, bidons.
Poets would write of the power and purpose of getting back into the drops. Really, it’s heart and joyful freedom.
Freedom to ride hard, to soft pedal, to weave over the road like a kid. Freedom to try on that hill, or to not. And the thrill of coming down the other side, no matter the effort on the way up.
It’s the carefree feeling we rode with as kids.
Already, it feels like a great year of riding.
But maybe you’re here for a different sort of enjoyment and relaxation. Got you covered. Here’s another shot from an entirely unremarkable vista view on the Pacific Coast Highway.
They have so many of them that they don’t even name them or, really, even mark them all that well. But they’re each lovely. We assume they’re all lovely. We weren’t able to see each one.
Guess we’ll have to go back one day.
