Late afternoon meetings meant a late start for tonight's stage. I also came up short on ideas for where I might ride. I decided to head toward a park I'd never visited, in a neighborhood where I could meander randomly through the streets. Most of which, as it turned out, had names starting with “Bel.” The park was more suited to hiking than biking, so I found myself racing the sunset to a suitable scenic location for my Stage 12 photo.
At bicycle speed, you notice things. Neighborhoods where the theme is women's names, or poets, or colleges. Sometimes they progress, helpfully, in alphabetical order. When a subdivision is laid out, who gets to name the streets? It can be pretty informal, as it turns out. My mom worked for a civil engineering firm for many years; one day the boss asked “What is your granddaughter's name?” And thus a new street found its name.
Road damage from winter's heavy rains had closed Highway 1 when I earned this jersey in
2017. I missed riding south along the coast, but the alternate route gave us the opportunity to explore unfamiliar territory (and, a very steep climb).
Tonight I climbed rather higher than I'd expected and was surprised to pop out partway up a hill that I know is quite steep. I was briefly tempted to turn onto the upper climb—the next block or so would have been doable (on my heavy commute bike). [But, I didn't.]
Whatever the distance, whatever the elevation gain, my evening rides seem to be consistently hovering around 90 minutes. Tonight, I climbed
460 feet over 15 miles, at a respectable 11 mph.
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