Suffering is a Constant (Q.E.D.)

Why did the peacock cross the road, dragging his tailfeathers behind him?

Because, he can. Traffic will stop. [I was headed downhill, at the time.] The car behind me stopped. An approaching car stopped. We waited patiently while he changed direction, crossing back whence he came.

Before that, though, I had made it to the top of Montebello Road.

It's been awhile (nearly four years!), but I know what to expect: a steep start, a steep finish, and merely uphill in the middle. Still, one mile into the climb, I doubted whether I could make it. Four-point-three more miles? I expected the initial steep part would be shorter than it is. The landmark “flag” mailbox is gone; I think it's covered with sparkly stars, now.

This was my choice, today, for me and my chief ride buddy. For two reasons: Number one, the wineries are still closed (less traffic!). Number two, it's not a magnet for driving enthusiasts (it's a dead end). Though I did choose to pull aside twice (uphill, and downhill) for a small petroleum tanker—driven by a guy who was clearly very comfortable with the twisty road.

This wasn't my fastest time up this hill (not race pace); but I was three and a half minutes faster than on my last visit.

For the day, 39 miles, 3,090 feet of climbing (we took the flat route, back). Looking at my stats, my average and peak heart rates today were the same as they were in 2016. But there's the rub: the level of suffering is the same, you just get faster.

The Morning Wacko

How many random factors came together to stop me at a particular intersection at a particular moment in time? [More than I can count.] The vagaries of getting up, getting dressed, assembling lunch and my gear, setting up the bike, pedaling on my way. Pausing for cross traffic, and another stoplight. Flying downhill, slowing to check for traffic merging from the freeway, and then rolling to a stop at a red light at a particular intersection at a particular moment in time.

I glanced to my left. The walk signal was flashing; this would be a long light. An old man in a light blue jacket, tall and robust, was crossing the street, staring at me. He veered out of the crosswalk to confront me, gruffly asking if I paid $3,000—or $4,000—for my bike.

There is no satisfactory answer to his question. He knows it's not a cheap bicycle. “Maybe,” I said; “it's old, I've had it a long time.”

It was 9:00 a.m. on Sunday morning and there was no one else in sight.

Nothing prepared me for the ugly question that next spewed from his mouth. A question with centuries-deep roots in ignorance and hatred.

“Are you a member of the Jewish clan?”

My blood froze. A storm of profanities raged in my brain. More furious than frightened, I summoned a reply. “No, I am not,” I said curtly. He continued on his way, rambling about the bike he got from Goodwill and suggesting that I should go spend more of my money on a new one.

How many random factors came together to stop me at that particular intersection at that particular moment in time? Thirty seconds, either way, would have spared me this encounter with the scum of the earth and this reminder that bigotry is alive right here in my own town, in the liberal Bay Area, in the twenty-first century.

Following this rude wake-up call, it is not hard to imagine that the rest of my day was considerably more pleasant. I biked to the start of our club ride, meeting up with friends old and new, with diverse national heritages and beliefs, from all walks of life. The morning gloom burned off sooner than my thoughts about the morning's sickening start.

Our ride leader insisted that we were welcome to picnic at Ridge Winery. After climbing to the top of Montebello we headed a mile or so back down and turned into their driveway. It was an unexpectedly lovely spot, but it is reserved for customers only. [That, I expected.]

A day of stark contrasts: 39 miles and 3,500 feet of climbing with scenic views, and one chance encounter with abhorrent views.

Why I Climb

My top five reasons for bicycling up hills:

1. The descent.
   
2. The view.
   
3. Chocolate.
   
4. Fitness.
   
5. The pain subsides at the top.

Today was the opening of the Low-Key Hillclimb season, which means that Reason #5 was necessarily promoted to Reason #1.

There is really nothing like charging up a hill in a pack of fast cyclists to test one's limits on a bicycle. Last year, many of us were caught in the rain; this year, the weather was sunny and cool. Last year, I was hurting and miserable; this year, well, I was just hurting.

I love the spirit of Low-Key: friendly, fun, full of good humor and encouragement. We are all out there mixing it up together: commuters, recreational riders, and racers from the local clubs. Road bikes, mountain bikes, an electrified recumbent, and a fixie (whose rider leaves most of us in the dust). Men and women of all ages. It's an open field.

When my Five-Pass Finisher jersey arrived yesterday, I took it as a sign. There could be no more fitting debut than this. I wore it with pride, and set a new personal best time on Montebello: 54:43, almost one minute faster than my best time in 2007, and at a lower average heart rate (173 vs. 177 bpm). Could I have pushed harder today? No, I am pretty confident that I gave it what I had.

I wasn't the last cyclist up the hill. Not ready to retire, just yet.