Published August 15, 2016
Last week, I celebrated my 70th. I started the party at 6:30 in the morning, as I set out on my bike from Genoa, Nevada. Then, over the next two days, I rode over the Sierras to Jackson, California. The trip was 95 miles and involved 4,500 feet of climbing. When I finally got to Jackson, I had a couple of beers and a big steak with a baked potato (and, yes, all the trimmings). Oh yes, and a couple of Advil! Why did I do it? For three reasons.
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