There’s this hill on our regular bike route, and it’s a bitch. I’ve tried climbing it three times, and each time I’ve gotten about a third of the way up before I have to get off my bike in defeat and push the damn contraption up the rest of the hill.

If you have a road bike with clip pedals, you KNOW getting off a bike mid-climb – when your vision is blurry, your lungs are heaving, your arms are shaking, and your legs are burning – is no small feat. I don’t dismount the bike as much as fling a leg out for dear life, hoping I’ll be able to lean in the direction of the unclipped foot. Sometimes, my body weight doesn’t cooperate and I feel myself slowly tipping over to the opposite side of the bike (in a really pathetic slow-motion move, complete with a guttural “Nooo-o-o-o-o-o” like in the movies), my free leg flailing like a drunken can-can girl’s. Moments later, I end up sitting under my bike, red-faced and purple-assed.

Today, however, is a special day. People, TODAY I have conquered the hill!!! YEAH, BABY!!! Torrey Pines, kiss my sore butt! 😀

I tackled the bastard head on, shutting out all negative thoughts in my head and concentrating only on the beautiful sound of my wheezing, coughing, and grunting. Biking is such a lady-like sport! When we got to the top of the hill, Mr. T was bursting with pride. He congratulated me profusely and beamed like a new father. My first words to him at the end of the climb? “Dude, you’re buying me breakfast.”

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