Catching up with my California roots
When I think of California I think of hills, especially the glorious, golden rolling hillsides of the Central Coast where I spent so much time as a kid. For brief, fleeting moments in the winters when the state actually sees rain, they turn a beautiful, vibrant green. But for the most part the hills that gently meander up from Santa Barbara toward Monterey are golden (brown if you're in a pessimistic mood), dotted with oak trees, and home to some of California's most under-appreciated riding.
After finishing a brutal first year of law school, I spent some time earlier this summer riding through the heart of Central California's wine country near Paso Robles with my parents. Unlike many of the past years, the dry gold hills were dotted with green. There were wildflowers sprouting up along every stretch of road. After ten years in New York, I sometimes forget just how awe-inspiring the place I grew up in is.
I love to ride with my parents. They have the pure joy for riding bikes of committed weekend warriors. There's never such a thing as a recovery day, and the top of every riser is an opportunity for a group sprint. My mom created the hashtag #2017NoEZRides for her Instagram and she's living it. Sometimes it's hard for me to keep up. When I suggested we tackle Gibraltar, the brutal 6-mile, 8 percent-grade climb that featured as the queen stage of the 2016 Tour of California, she was immediately in. We conquered it together.
When they hear my parents are into bikes, lots of people assume I pushed them into it. It's oddly the other way around. They started riding the year I went to college. It sounded fun, so I requested a bike for Christmas that year. They took me for my inaugural ride. In many ways, bikes have come to define my adult relationship with my parents. Seeing your parents as fellow adults can sometimes be a hard transition to navigate, but for me it's been a really fun one. Bikes mean that we always have something to do together, and something to talk about.
Plus, obviously, the best thing about riding with my parents is showing off how my dad constantly and viciously rocks unique spandex looks like this one:
