San Francisco scares me.

It’s no secret that San Francisco has a few ‘hills’.
Biceps and I grabbed our bikes from the bus, excited about a leisurely ride around the bay area and a lunch by the ocean. What I failed to compute was that in order to get from our hotel to the ocean, I had to bike down several of San Fran’s famous hills.

That is me at the very top of the hill-a tiny speck on the left hand side. This means Biceps has already made it down the hill successfully. He is now consumed with photographing my inability to let go of the brake.

Why had I let Biceps carry the camera? He loves to document way too many things.

I gave up trying to make my body do what my mind told it not to do and walked my bike down the hill. I was passed several times by natives immune to the decline.
I hung my head just as a fourteen year old passed me on a skateboard.

Biceps and I biked down this zig-zag road; enthusiastically cheered on by honking motorist.
I think they appreciated my cautiousness and my concern for safety as I rode the brakes the entire length of the road.

We stopped at the bottom of the zig zag hill to wait for our lungs to catch up. Several friends that were on the same tour sailed past us on the trolley, wishing us well. They moved on without a care in the world.

And why would they want to ride a trolley when they can bike down this? Pansies.
My calves still haven’t recovered. (Moo).