I scarce believe my feet pedaled me the length of the course, but as far as the questionable assumption that my experience consists of more than colorful figments of my imagination goes, they did, the left one in cahoots with the right. 71-miles, 5,500' of climbing, temperatures into the low 90s, my first century (metric). Also the first time in my life that I rode bicycles with my father. Epic, HELL of epic. Average Speed: 13-mph Maximum Speed: 47-mph
Words are crap. Crap on a stick. All the same, they are the primary communication tool given us to work with. Until I find a better way to convey my love to the masses, might as well distill goodness from them. Mmmmm, essence of crap, on a carved & sculpted stick.
Views of San Francisco, Mount Tamelpais, and the Golden Gate Bridge from Grizzly Peak did their best to take our breaths away, gasp, wheeze. Photographers lined the road with tripods trying to cram the crispy vistas into little boxes. At the top of the last (Rheem) hill my whole body commenced to trembling, and my sunburnt mind said in a helium voice from somewhere far over my head, "Hmmm, the onset of shock." Forced myself to sip a little fluid, quavered on down to the finish, got a 20-minute massage and felt a world better.
What a blast! My father and I floated to our respective homes on Cloud 9. Once again, words are CRAP! Let's do it again, faster. Ride to live.