(If you’re seeing this in Facebook, click the link below for more pictures.) I haven’t heard our best riders say they were tired, until yesterday. That meant I was more than tired, many times. On the outside, my body shined with sweat from intense sun and no breeze. On the inside, my legs demanded there was nothing left, by sending pain in new and creative ways. But the hills kept coming, so we kept going. Unlike others, I walked my bike up some of the especially steep peaks.

I don’t mean to complain. It’s just how I felt sometimes, but other times, the thrill was as intense as the pain. A few minutes of the ride give a good example. One minute, I was going up to a peak, and the title of this blog post occurred to me, The Ozarks have hells not hills. A couple minutes later, I was at the top, and a minute after that, the road felt like it disappeared below me, something I hadn’t felt before. In seconds, my speed was 48 MPH (77 KPH) . I don’t like to swear, but without thinking, I yelled, “Holy shit!”

More hills showed up after that, and I video recorded one. My apologies to everyone out there who have suggested that handlebars are meant for 2 hands.

If anyone reading this has cancer, I’d like to emphasize that you completely forget about it going up and down those hills, and for a long time after. You also believe even more that we’re going to cure cancer soon with a bit of extra effort–please consider helping with a donation.

Another satisfaction after a day of hellish hills is having a day off, which we have today. Most of our group is spending 5 hours floating down a river. I’m enjoying a bit of heaven. For me, that’s a morning with the writing I love so much, with lots of coffee and treats. Thanks for stopping by.