in the middle ring

What the hell possessed me last night to climb the Griffith Park canyons in my middle ring, I couldn't tell ya...but I did. Heh heh. Hey, that's an accomplishment for me. I had the leg strength and the company to tolerate my groaning for emphasis. It was Herb and me, as the rest of the crowd wanted to ride to the Rose Bowl from Burbank. I'm not crazy about the RB ride at night. Mountain Ave. is too narrow and too filled with lazy-eyed, tense motorists. I'll risk being confused with a breaded-pork chop by a coyote at Griffith Park over becoming road kill in rush hour traffic in Glendale. Since it was just the two of us, I knew I could sucker, guilt and harass Herb into indulging my desire to mash in lieu of spin up the hills. Spinning is the way to go (especially for the knees) but mashing is a necessary punishment one must inflict on one's quads from time to time. My quads are now telling me to go to hell. I guess the gym is out today...I think I'll go walking again as I dug that on Monday.

As for the ride itself? Fantabulous and oddly quiet. Yes, quiet...and yes, I was along. Oh, shut up (I know what you're thinking). There were times I was so very like myself (loud, crude, loquacious) and times when I was completely lost in thought and not uttering a peep. It was so dark in the canyons, even up Trash Truck Hill that my HID's white glow was the only beacon to light my way. No moon(light) and no street lights.


Once we hopped the gate and began climbing Mt. Hollywood, the breeze picked up. It was again eerie in those hills, but no coyotes in view last night (out of view and not far out of range, I'm sure). We really just had each other and our thoughts for company, and our thoughts won out. Well, that and Herb's breathing. He mentioned to me at the top that he didn't understand why he breathes so heavy the way he does. I told him he needs to practice on releasing his breath more controlled and without any 'voice' in his breath. I'm sure he wanted to tell me to practice on speaking without any 'voice' in my voice, but he held his tongue.

On the way down the back of the canyon it got brrrrr cold, but the quicksand patches of debris we anticipated had been swept away, thank goodness. At he bottom, we hopped the second gate and climbed directly up to the observatory. Throughout this climb, I remained in my middle ring too, but I knew that if we took the freakishly steep route home, I'd have to drop down into Grannygearville. My legs were quivering at that point. At the top, by the observatory, it was oddly quiet and uncrowded. Herb shared his trail mix with me like always. I joke that it's my dinner, but really, it's my treat. I know he's gonna share, especially if I look pathetic enough, so secretly I look forward to it. I'm like a dog that way. I perform the trick of climbing up that canyon, now give me some almonds, M&M's and peanuts, please!

On our descent down the back side of the observatory, Herb refused to dictate our route home. I gave him an out, "we can skip the freakishly steep hills and take the bike path back or we can climb the freakishly steep hills and take the park [route] back."

"I don't know," he hollered over his shoulder. "You decide."

"No, you decide!" I don't like dictating.

He sighed. "NO...you decide."

"Fine," I snickered and stuck my tongue out at him (behind his back). "Freakishly steep hills it is! But no bike path...the bike path scares me when it's this dark out."

We then climbed the freakishly steep hills. Why do I keep saying 'freakishly steep?' Cause there are a couple of hills in that Los Feliz neighborhood that top out around 15% at least and with all the cracks in the pavement, cars coming up and around you, trash cans, cats and skunks (there was the cutest little skunk on the sidewalk last night but Herb didn't want to stop to pet it), it's like trying to traverse an obstacle course and keep your front wheel down! It's also like an amusement ride. I told Herb that when I ride through that neighborhood at night, I feel like I'm on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. I realize that we are on bikes, not in a boat, and there are no pirates, but it still reminds me of that ride for some odd reason. I even sing to myself, "yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me..." as we first climb and then descend those winding cracked curves and finish with a blind curve on a sidewalk that dumps us out on Los Feliz Blvd. I'm always a little fearful that we're going to run over some urban hipster (or drug dealer) going around that narrow curve, but so far, no one has been there just as we turn the corner.

We were done by 8:30pm. 19.8 miles with 1,600 feet of climbing (ow!). I was flying high after and had a hard time falling asleep last night. I love to ride, love to ride, love to ride! I was able to put the job search out of mind last night and just enjoy. And then...

...I had to get up this morning and go meet with a recruiter. Sigh. I was there practically all day. I thought I wouldn't like her, but I was pleasantly surprised. She is a very bright, 26 year old with chipped polish on her nails. Her nail polish is purple too. She looked a little disheveled and I think my appearance intimidated her as she kept apologizing for her chipped nail polish. I told her not to sweat it and that I'm a cyclist (yeah...like I got perfect nails?). If this other job (that I'm waiting to hear from) falls through, then this gal will help me. She really liked me but wanted to fix my resume. I resisted at first but then changed my mind. She told me how strong of an interviewer I am and that compliment put a bounce in my step, for sure. But, egad (I love that word), it was a long day!!!! By the time I got home and checked my emails, pet my dragon (who is still shedding and very sensitive right now) it was 3:30pm! Where does the time fly?

Now, I think it's too late to ride so I'm just going to climb the hills in my neighborhood by foot. Too bad they don't make itty-bitty leashes for lizards.