The hills of Western Maine
As a young person I limited myself by the thoughts that I didn't have a ten speed so I couldn't ride out of town. Three summers ago my son said we should ride the New Hampshire seacoast, so I picked up an old ten speed for free at the end of a local yard sale, pumped up the tires and started riding, reading, and bothering the local lbs'. For the first time since I learned to ride in Hawaii I fell off my bike a couple times and learned that that is part of learning defense. Well, we rode Route 1 north and in my lowest gear with my tongue hanging out I conquered the huge 50' hill on the way. Fortunately, my son had better training and could drag me home. Being the masochist, I rode the rest of the summer, learning cadence, gears, and drafting( big trucks are great, but fellow bikers are better) and also learned on 120 mile trip that the real limiter is how much I can eat under way. That fall I bought a used bike a couple decades younger than my first, had the bearings changed out and commuted from Kittery,Me to Amesbury,Ma. I love it! When we moved to Lovell last June, I learned that there is no such thing as a warm up before pushing the heart rate in these hills. I have gotten past walking up, and boy, do I like to go fast down. After two years of lurking ( to quote CRUM ) at the tail of the paceline I think I'm ready to join in.