Biking down the Natchez

I biked 60.3 miles down the Natchez Trace on Saturday with a couple of friends, and boy are my legs tired! Ha ha ha!

No, really, it's flatter than some areas in Nashville (read: my house), but we still did over half a mile of pure elevation in the course of the ride. It was my first time out on the Trace, though, and it's very pretty. Seems like it'd be a fun place to go out and spend the day. Minimal traffic, stunning vistas at the scenic overlooks, etc.

But man, after 60 miles, those pretty, old-growth forests on either side of the road start to get boring. Oppressing, even. Like they're starting to bend over the road, leering at you as you struggle vainly to find the last few calories of glycogen stored somewhere, anywhere, in your muscles so that you have the energy to keep the pedals turning over the next hill.

We really enjoyed ourselves, actually, but we did come to the conclusion that every professional cyclist (and many an amateur) is a total masochist. As my friend noted, "They enjoy going to the dentist."