It was the best of times… well heck no, it wasn’t. From the very first few pedal strokes up the street out of our driveway, I could tell it wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t easy for Kevin either. The ultimate high-gravity day? There was more in play than that, at least for me. I was just not in a good place in my head, and was giving really serious thought to turning around at the park entrance, just 1/3rd of the way up Kings. The reason I didn’t may have been Kevin voicing something along the same lines. Well darn; if I can’t be miserable on my own, what’s the point? That whole pity-party thing has never worked well for me.

I did turn back at the park entrance once before, for the same reasons. Head just not in the game. But this time was going to be different; I got past that initial “crisis” and started feeling a bit better about things as I climbed. I think I gave in to feeling better, if that makes any sense. I still felt really weak, as did Kevin. Karen (forgot to mention we had company!) was doing her thing, heading up the hill at a pace neither of us could match, but once we got past Skeggs, up on Skyline, I felt quite different. Saw a bit of power now & then on the display. Legs felt like they kinda worked. Up until that point, I assumed it likely we’d all be descending 84 into Woodside, rather than head west towards West Old LaHonda, but it really felt like it would be best to make a statement, to myself if nobody else, that normalcy was within reach.

Descending 84 towards West Old LaHonda, I was even able to take the lead and pull us forward. It felt good, and I really needed to feel good. And yes, it was the usual beautiful day on West Old LaHonda.

The cookie tells the tale. Or does it? It seems metaphorical, but what’s the metaphor?

It was a strange day Sunday; colder than it had been for some time, although certainly nothing out of the ordinary for an ordinary February. Not that there’s been anything ordinary about a February that didn’t seem to have a drop of rain. Given how the weather’s been, you’d think I’d be feeling great. You’d think Kevin would be feeling great. But far from it. It was a long long long haul. We didn’t even get to enjoy the easy pace of a slow long haul either, as we came across James P heading up Old LaHonda. We’d figured a phone-it-in 27 minute ride of Old La Honda, maybe even 28. But James, who can climb wicked-fast, came across us and went into what, for him, was idle mode. Which meant picking up the speed a bit. Hate that.

13 minutes up Haskins? This ride wasn’t getting faster as it went, that’s for sure. Then we had the ultimate indignity of being passed by a group of 3 on gravel bikes, two of them featuring gravel tires. Yikes.

Pescadero. What’s with the lopsided cookie? What does that mean?

Winds were picking up so Kevin thought hey, cool, let’s ride the coast north and look at the waves! Yep. Waves there were, along with a pretty nasty headwind.

And then there’s Tunitas. Oh. My. 1 hour, 39 seconds.

Still, in the end, it felt better to have ridden than not.