After 21 days of pushing our bodies to the brink, I think it’s safe to say we had reached “peak exhaustion.” This morning, as we gingerly mounted our bikes, we were bracing for more hills, and praying that our tired legs were in play for one more day of riding.  I had 40 miles of climbing burned into my brain, so when Jeff gently informed me it was actually only 34, I nearly wept with relief.

Five miles in, we hit “The Climb.” We braced ourselves, shifted into the granny gears, and… honestly, it wasn’t that bad? In fact, it was downright polite.

From the summit, the day turned into pure magic. We spent the rest of the morning lazily winding through the countryside with almost no traffic. Our only witnesses were a few unimpressed cows and a handful of fellow cyclists. No fierce headwinds. No terrifying terrain. Just us, pedaling with the sheer, unadulterated glee of children who just got their training wheels taken off.

Our tired muscles finally loosened up, and our spirits soared. We weren’t just “covering ground”—we were chewing up the scenery. We rolled past beautiful ranches and swapped nods with shaggy longhorns, goats, sheep, and even a few llamas.

It was the ultimate “pre-rest day” gift. Today reminded us exactly why we fell in love with bicycling in the first place. St. Augustine, we’re coming for you—but first, we’re going to enjoy this hard-earned off day!