I rode up and over the Blue Hills, just south of Boston...
... through the quaint town of Milton, with its neat town green ...
...and back home in two incredible hours of cycling. While the scenery was beautiful, it was the way I felt on the bike that made this morning so special. Each hill felt easier than the last, as if every climb brought me more in tune with my machine and surroundings. And when I leaned low into my handlebars on the descents, the air simply glided over me in a speedy, awesome swoosh!
The road through the Blue Hill Reservation is only open from 7 a.m. to 8 p.m., which is too late pre-work rides. But I thought about those hills all week -- especially Thursday morning when I was stuck standing in a crowded subway car for 90 minutes, waiting for a broken-down train to be removed from the tracks ahead. I just kept thinking of reaching the summit of Chickataubut Hill...
... and enjoying the view ...
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