Hazy Hillsides

You don't get the sweeping view if you don't do the climb.

By the time I reached Bernal, I was ... too warm. I peeled off my wool arm warmers and stuffed my jacket into my bag. I chatted with another cyclist stretching at the base of the climb—he noted that he was wearing a summer jersey. After last week's chill, I'd opted for short-sleeved wool. [Go figure.]

This climb has become familiar enough that the steep start no longer fills me with dread. Being warmed up helps, I'm sure—since it takes me about an hour to get there. In no particular hurry, I reached the top a few seconds faster than my last trip up the hill.

With a short errand added to the mix today, I wound up with about 32 miles and less than 1,000 feet of climbing. No reason not to make this a habit. Really.