Leaves of Gold

Brrr! Frost on the rooftops, this morning.

To warm up, I chose to park a couple of miles from the spot where we would rendezvous with today's leader. To be honest, the parking lot I chose was also somewhat more convenient for me. And I felt better about leaving my car there; the only litter was a smattering of Cheerios—no broken glass, no beer bottles or cans.

We would be tracing a route similar to a ride I led a few years ago, and pretty much for the same reason: on a cold day, it's prudent to stick to roads that are well-exposed and low.

Along the way I caught a whiff of a politicized topic that has been sensationalized in the press of late. “I'm glad I'm not in the workplace now, I'd be afraid I'd get accused of sexual harassment if I gave a lady a pat on the back for doing a good job.” [Sigh.] Actually, probably not. Context matters. But how about using your words instead of your hands? The lady would rather have your support when she's looking for a raise or a promotion.

I did not interject. [I just want to ride my bike.]

Our group of nine splintered after the first two climbs, with some riders eager to tackle a couple of the steeper hills in the neighborhood. [I was not among them.]

When two riders opted to follow me, I regretted not having studied the map last night. I had brought a copy of my old route (and managed not to get us lost).

After we finished the third climb, I was conflicted about skipping the fourth. Continue straight to my car? Or backtrack, to climb the road we'd just descended.

I gave my companions the choice, still unsure I'd head for the hill if they declined. “Let's do it!” they said. We paused to peel off our jackets and watched a coyote trotting across the field next to us. It changed course once it finally noticed us.

In all, an efficient 2,730 feet of climbing over 29 miles. Somewhere along a descent it appears that I topped out at 42.3 mph, which was perhaps a tad over the posted limit. [A tad.] Perhaps.