I wake up. Pancakes are cooking. I make bacon. I devour the pancakes, covered in yogurt, strawberries, and bananas, along with eggs and bacon and strawberry-rhubarb pie for breakfast. I don my kit, pump up my tires, fill up my water bottles, and get on my bike. I ride alongside a lake, and descend through amazing scenery. The temperature is perfect, with the sun warming my back and the breeze cooling my face. At the end of the fun, technical descent, I begin to climb. I climb for 11 miles, looking over mountains that go on forever, and looking down on canyons and valleys that take my breath away. I inhale the fresh pine air and hear the scampering wildlife. I eat. I drink. I converse with the tourists. I photograph the adventure. I descend. I eat. I drink. I bask in the sunlight, admiring the clear blue skies. I share margaritas with my teammates. We make fajitas, and I cook plantains. We eat. We drink. We share stories. We share wine.
This is the perfect day.
It would be a dream.
But this is what happened today.
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