(3/9) Thirty seven miles into the day, and far from the frigid flowing fog of San Francisco, a harsh sun sweltered through the trees and it finally felt like Summer again. Sweat dripped from my nose onto the top tube about every other turn of the crank and I had just finished grinding up the hill from Fairfax when I noticed a few teens hiking along the shoulder wearing swimsuits and sunburns. Suddenly aware of the San Geronimo Creek below me, I kept a watchful eye through the flashing gaps of growth. I began to see people below - beer coolers, bikinis and boardshorts spread across the rocky outcroppings over the creek. Rounding the next corner, I'd found it. A foot bridge turned off from the road, stretching across the local secret swimming hole, filled with friends, flying footballs and a nostalgia for the Austin Greenbelt that I just couldn't shake. I shouldered my steed and scaled the stone to the water's edge. After pulling off my bike cleats, I dropped pair of stiff feet into the water; savoring the icy embrace of a cool Californian Creek.
Later, I clicked into my pedals at the roadside and watched a few cars pass. Had I not been biking, I'd have blown right by this spot too. #comfortwillkillyou