Downhill to Saratoga

In the early morning hours Mary drives out to meet e as I continue climbing up the mountain road. I ask for help. Toes on both feet are now in pain. She gently massages each foot instantly generating a mental stimulus which will propel me the final three days to my goal of reaching San Francisco. I learn months later that the pain is caused by neuromas, pinched nerves, in both feet a clear outcome of overuse. I thank my feet none the less for carrying me this far.Finally I reach the crest of the mountain. On the steep downhill slope I am exhilarated. The walking is easier. The traffic too is greater forcing me to frequently stop as I approach shoulder less hair pin curves where drivers cannot see me. I am embarrassed too. Streams of bicyclists coming from Saratoga far below methodical sit and peddle up, up, the rough mountain road. Even though I have walked more than 500 miles over the last twenty days I know their struggle today is greater than mine. From these moments forward I will always have great respect for long distance mountain bicyclists.

At  Saratoga in a quaint hotel flanked by trendy restaurants I too enjoy a cold chardonnay while I sadly reflect that the end of my great adventure is near.

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