40, 65, Whatever — Tammy Salyer

One of my relatively few flaws (besides my overwhelming humbleness) is my lack of patience. This often manifests in adventures that I intend to be of a certain time/distance/level of hardness, but which turn out to be more than I bargained for. You see, I'd much rather be doing something fun than planning something fun.

This personal challenge came to the forefront yesterday when I decided a moderate afternoon road ride was in order. After a cursory look on Google Earth and a quick estimate of the mileage, I had my route planned. Just a quickie up and down through some windy mountain roads, probably no more than 40 miles. Sixty-five miles and five hours later, I finally dragged my carcass back up the condo's stairs and fell to the ground in rapturous joy at Jer's feet for having already made an extra cheesy pizza. If he had not, there's a strong possibility that I might have eaten my own arm.

I had planned on taking a good leisurely ride documented by lots of pics. But when the two hour mark hit and I still wasn't at the turn that I knew was only within the first 1/4 of the overall route, I realized I'd better pick up the pace or possibly perish (please forgive the alliterative rambling; I just couldn't help it.) Here are the few I managed to take with my trusty iPhone.