“You guys from out of town?” the cyclist asked coming to a slow stop as he navigated the steep downhill that we were climbing.
“Not really — we’re from Greenville.” I figured being only 50 miles away doesn’t exactly make us tourists.
“Well, most people around here go the opposite way on this loop and go down this hill,” he said, I suppose trying to be helpful, but it came across to me as a little — I don’t know, annoying somehow.
“But what about those of us who enjoy hard climbs?” I wanted to say, but thinking I might be only speaking for myself, I said nothing.
“Yes, it seems like it would be more fun,” K agreed.
Our interlocutor headed off down the hill, and added, as if he’d read my annoyance and wanted to soothe it and simultaneously aggravate it, “Of course, it’s your choice.”
Just before December, we went to Dupont forest for some cycling. It wasn’t exactly what we’d planned. But since then, the Boy has asked us several times when we’re heading back. Today, we finally made it.
And afterward, there was mulch to spread and bikes to wash.