The Hump: an imaginary mountain that many of us humans who forgot our bikes for a little too long and indulged a little too much over the winter are doomed to climb every spring (or late winter, in our case). To call it a "Hump" is a classic exercise in understatement. You begin your ascent fat, weak, and buried in a cocoon of winter insulation that drags you back at every turn, but despite being cold, sore and demoralized you keep turning one foot over the other lest you be forever trapped in the cold dark valley of the hump, a fate we wouldn't wish on a worst enemy.
One foot over the other with your head down, only to be lifted one day by the spring dawn reaching it's tendrils over the mountain's peak. Suddenly drinking the warmth of the eastern sun you smile and realize how good everything feels.
25 degrees this morning, and all I want to do is ride singletrack. (and I did. It was excellent.)
14-weeks to go. It's all downhill from here.