In my rearview mirror I see the peak that was a three-week climb or ascent full of bitterly cold temperatures and furious, gusty winds.
I am gutted out. But I am still pedaling forward with biofeedback not yet silenced. Gears grynding not without grounds.
On we go winding wildly and not so wearily deep down and around and around on to a spring of descent where the weather is warming and the riding is less like a slog and more like a tarmac.