One day this week, I can't remember which one anymore, I was following Leif and huffing and puffing down hill. You heard me right. It sure looked like it was down hill. Leif, meaning to be supportive I'm sure, said, "It's OK. It's a false climb."
Which I'm sure is a super-cyclist term for a hill that's a figment of my imagination. A climb that's all in my head.
I'm not sure what's worse, working super hard to pedal down a hill or being told that the sensation of pedaling super hard down a hill is a figment of my imagination.
I guess it doesn't matter, as long as he doesn't start luring me up large hills with imaginary pastry. Then there'll be trouble.