6 hours. 45 kilometers.

I had to dig deep today. Real deep. Physically of course. But today psychologically too. We started the day with an argument– we’re married, we’re exhausted, it’s to be expected. He’s in a big hurry every day to get on the road, and I wanted to linger over a second cup of cafe au lait. The tears I’ve been waiting for came this morning. My body’s tired, I have my period (as a special bonus!), and we had a huge climb ahead of us, the biggest yet. I wanted to call my mom to come pick me up (and she would, cos that’s how she is. And she would bring me my kitty cat). Oh how I miss my kitty-cat.

So as we got going I thought to myself: Exactly WHY am I doing this again? Something to ponder for the next 6 hours. Is it: a) to get stronger, physically and psychically? b) to impress others? c) to please my husband? d) because last year’s bike trip was so amazing and rewarding and I want to recapture that? e) to shake me out of my comfort zone and change my perspective? A little of all of the above I guess. But “E” especially. I want something new to be revealed to me in these mountains. That’s all I know right now. I’ll keep you posted.

The monster climb was the Cul de Pre. It was 12 km, and took us about 3 hours. Much of the ascent was at 9%–that’s hard. The scenery, though– indescribable. Up through valley farmlands. I locked eyes with a sheepdog in a field and we panted in unison as I rode by. He was my Good Luck Charm today. Passing the farmlands we were in woods on a one lane road. There were other cyclists including a couple on a tandem bike. “Tres dificil!” “Oui!” We laughed. Hour 2. I pondered my “why”. Why everything? Why did I give up acting? Why did I not have a baby? I picked a daisy, stuck it on some velcro on my handlebars, and then swerved violently from the action, almost falling but not. Gabriel and I both stopped at one section to rest, it was right before the hardest incline. I got off the bike and laid down on the side of the road. I swung my legs over my head in that yoga pose – “plow” is it called? “I need to decompress my lower spine.” Gabriel laughed: “I need to decompress my balls.”

Three hours and we were at the summit. One climb down, one to go. We flew spectacularly down. Everything was in stark contrast: snow-capped peaks, then lower mountains which were bright Irish green with clusters of trees, and then below that a pure blue lake, cascades of water crashing into it at several spots. It made me think: the world is beautiful. So heartbreakingly beautiful. The next challenge was the Col de Meraillet. I won’t even try to describe how stunning it was. The silhouettes of the mountains like the most artful carvings. “How did this all come to be?” I wondered. (Yeah it was that kind of philosophical day, and its only day 4). Wonder wonder wonder. My body wasn’t suffering as much today. I’m not sure if that’s because of the deep ponderings or because it has finally given up its fight and is just submitting to my will. “You’ll pay for this later,” its probably scheming. Towards the top 2 American guys rode by me. “Hey I recognize you! You ride Latigo Canyon.” “Yeah!” I said. “I recognize your handlebars!” (hmm. Is that code for something? My handlebars?) As they passed me: “You should get a lighter bike!” Really, dude? Don’t you see these giant packs I’m carrying? Its a touring bike. You’re on a road bike. Dang. Do I have to get mad at people again? Then we saw the same guys at the summit and they were actually really nice. Quite a few of them from LA. They had their support van and everything. WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SUPPORT VAN? I thought as I put my head between my legs cos I felt like I was going to pass out. I ate about a quarter pound of my most-delicious-creamy-local-cheese-ever with some baguette and got over it though.

The descent was fun! Winding down, gorgeous (although you can’t look around too much, you gotta be careful). Gabriel keeps looking back to make sure I’m okay. I’m fine, I’m confident going down. (But not too confident. Take Nothing For Granted). We ended in this pretty village, in our adorable hotel that’s like a Swiss Chalet. I’m hungry but happy. Hungry is good. Yesterday I was too wrecked to even be hungry and I think I should be eating more. (When in my life have I ever said that?)

This evening was wonderful. Our hotel is like a B&B, family run, and so home-like. In the bar we had drinks with the regulars, 2 of them bringing in dogs– so cozy and casual. A duo (guitar and electric violin) started playing covers of everything from REM to the The Rolling Stones. They were great and we geeked-out to all the classics as regulars greeted the hotel owner and the dogs wandered around. It was so warm and comforting. Turned out the duo were British, and we chatted with them at dinner. We requested “Wild World” and it brought down the house. I had coconut ice cream AND tirimisu tonight. Yes I did.