“OWWWWW. JEEEEZUS F*CK WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”

Turns out the enraged howl of agonized obscenity from across the courtyard at the Goodnite Inn Calabasas wasn’t from some domestic dispute. It was from one of my guys. Misplaced joshing caused Tweedledum to slap Tweedledee on the hip – hard – not knowing he had bad road rash from a recent fall off his bike. On the drive to Pasadena today, the guys agreed:

“Our friendship is based on the fact that we aren’t actually friends.”

Scores would be settled over the 30km ride, climbing 1600m to the famous observatory. I never saw the grudge match, as they rode away from me quickly. Instead, I gobbled down a Power Bar and a Starbucks Espresso Double Shot and settled in for my longest, highest climb ever. For the next 90 or so minutes, with no watch, no Garmin, no real distance markers and no one around it was just me, sheer, bleached cliffs, tarmac, and my breathing. Basically just ride until, at some point, you get to the top and get to stop.

My buddies waited for me for the last 8km segment, and I returned the courtesy by attacking immediately. It makes a big difference knowing how much more you have to endure. Up top, the Observatory was closed but the hazy view of the surrounding mountains complemented my blurred vision.

The others barrelled back down. I “mini-kegged”. Here’s what a half-hour of continuous descent at maybe 50-60km/h feels like:

Sounds like: wind howling in your ears

Looks like: blue sky, rock face, tarmac tangents, squirrel playing chicken

Feels like: cold, salty snot running down your nose and into your mouth that you dare not wipe off. Handlebars vibrating.