adjusted itself to daylight savings time. Really, what would we do without
Needing a ride after work, I decided to try the climb through the Marin
Headlands that I couldn't do last time I tried with Jesse and Sam. My goal?
Downhill. More climbing means more downhill, right? It was beautiful, it was
quiet, it was fresh, so worth it. I climbed and climbed, and I took a short detour
down the Coastal Trail toward Rodeo Beach (the quietest place I think I have
ever been), where I was passed by a guy who I once saw throw his bicycle as
hard as he could to the ground on Masonic and Fell.
Decided I didn't have the right tires for the rocky road, went back to the main
street, climbed some more. 2 miles uphill from the bridge and 9.5 miles from
home, I was up at the top. I spent a loooong while wistfully gazing back at San
Francisco (the road I took has the unfortunate quality of putting only vertical
distance between you and San Francisco. An escape it is not) After absorbing
the landscape (and the really nice orange glitter Soma seat on the other bike
at the top) I was ready for the downhill (and a meal!). Hopped on my bike and,
whaddya know, the front tire had gone flat.
Well I turned right around to that orange seat-sporter and asked for his pump,
and after flexing my pump muscles and letting him flex his, we found out the
valve was jacked. Bummer. Downhill? I think not! Walked the 4 miles back
downhill and across the bridge before jumping on a bus home, cranky, but