Hills of San Francisco

I tried to prepare for the hills of San Fancisco. For those who saw me riding around with big jugs of water in my panniers, I wasn't being crazy. I was trying to get in shape. I would load my bike down and go home by way of Missionary Ridge. Surely there couldn't be anything steeper then Oak Street going up the side of the ridge.

So what did my training get me? This is me on the first hill I came to in San Francisco:

Yep, that is me pushing up the hill. I got into the city, having been met by Quint who had biked down from Portland, Oregon and we had to get something to eat first. We found a wonderful place called the Stinking Rose, where they serve a little bit of food with garlic. I thought it was impossible to eat too much garlic.

But hitting the hill immediately after garlic gouging, I found out different. At this point, I am starting to wonder if I was going to throw up. I didn't. And that was the only hill I pushed up. But that queasy feeling from climbing a hill immediately after eating was repeated frequently through out our stay in San Francisco.

Good food, steep hills and stomach turnover- the three together will always say San Francisco to me!