“Are we going for a ride today?” ventured the domestic partner.

“Sure!”

Back from my Colorado adventure, I realized I only have three weeks to train for the Fargo Tour de Cure. My first century since the Tour de Tugaloo back in November. Yes, I did more miles on the Gulf Coast Interstate Relay , but not all at once. And the hardship with headwinds last weekend led me to think I want to be ready for the prairie.

So, off to Ballona Creek to dust the cobwebs off the partner’s chainring and to fight some headwinds. I packed our bikes and gear into the car. I hoped that any remnants of the massive fish die-off in Marina Del Rey would be cleaned up.

Alas, when we arrived at the park, we discovered that I had failed to pack my beloved’s shoes. He gamely agreed to give riding the bike with his sneakers precariously perched on the Speedplay pedals, and off we went!

At first, I drafted behind him, in the spirit of riding together. Then it felt mean to make him do all the work when I was the one with a light bike who was clipped in, so I took a turn on the front, careful to maintain the pace he’d set. Eventually, he came unhitched, and urged me to go ahead and wait for him at the bridge. I set the goal of maintaining a steady pace, even though I knew the headwinds would get stronger as I approached the Pacific Ocean.

At the end of the path, I spun around and waited for my sweetie to arrive:

We headed back, and as I could hit 20mph with the wind behind me, I decided to try to maintain it. At first, it was easy-breezy. As I flew inland, less so, but I got through graffiti ghetto, and then turned around to pick up my man and ride in with him.

A short ride, but a good one, because I am now The Queen of Ballona Creek!

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