The desert sun is high overhead. The winds are starting to pick up, just a little.
I'm poised at the summit, looking over the Valley spread out far below me. The salt pan shimmers like a mirage. Dust devils swirl somewhere miles away.
I aim toward that long, flat horizon. Tuck position, back flat. Invisible to the wind, the crosswinds that could knock me sideways, if they could only see me.
The road roars beneath my wheel. Sleek black ribbon of twists and dips, whatever it brings me I'll accept.
Click up, pushing hard on the cranks in my attempt to reach escape velocity. I could probably do it, but I've run out of gears. All I can do is up the cadence, legs burn in a good way.
I'm back now, in the so-called 'Real World'. My annual indulgence/escape/challenge/whatever-necessary-thing-it-has-become is over for this year. But when things get a little too real here, you may see my eyes glaze over, my attention take a momentary break. Please, just give me a minute. Let me go back there - I won't be long. You know exactly where I am.