A Crushing Coe

It has been a while since I set out on a long bike ride. Quite a while. Look back three months on the calendar, to Levi's King Ridge GranFondo.

Why, then, did I think a 52-mile route with an extended climb would be a good idea today? Quite simply: I wasn't thinking.

The first time I ascended East Dunne Avenue to reach Henry Coe State Park, I was a passenger in a car. A budding cyclist, I knew this was a popular route. I quickly recognized that it was beyond my ability.

The first time I climbed it on a bicycle, I had raced up Mt. Hamilton the day before. I took it easy that day, but it was not a struggle.

Not so, today. My fitness has withered, and I could have used those red blood cells I donated ten days ago. The steepest pitch is uphill of the lone cattle guard on this route. On the downhill approach, I gave it my all. I flew over the metal rails and made it most of the way up the steep grade. (Most. Not all.) I dismounted. I looked at the hill. I did not want to pedal one more meter uphill.

What remained was not so steep. With a few minutes to recover, I certainly could have remounted and continued. I ... just ... didn't ... want to.

Suddenly it seemed like a lovely day for a stroll, and I did something I have not done on a bicycle outing in years. I walked.