One of the reasons that I haven’t written one of these epics in a while is because I haven’t really had very many exciting adventures lately. Well, I had one last Sunday that may make me want to rest for a while before my next one. I received a phone call from on of my Catalunyan friends, Ricard, where he asked me if I’d be interested in going on a little bicycle trek with him and his friends. Sounds harmless enough, right? So I skipped volleyball on the beach that day and I borrowed a mountain bike from one of his friends and eight of us took the metro to Tibidabo, the highest mountain in the Barcelona area. I should have known by the professional spandex bicycle outfits and helmets that these guys had on that they were maybe a little more seasoned at this than me. But I felt good. I felt damn good. So when we reached the bottom of the tram to the top of Tibidabo and Ricart asked me if I’d like to ride up with him on the tram or actually bicycle up with three of his friends, I said, “I feel damn good. I think I’ll bike it.” He gave me a little look of concern, wished me luck, and headed off to the tram (I think I heard him laugh, too). This mountain was steep. This mountain was tall. I was fine for the first 2km of the climb, but frequently thereafter I found myself fighting the urge to fall off my bike and hit myself repeatedly in the head for deciding to do this. You know that useless last gear on bikes that allow you to peddle at a million miles an hour without really moving? That was too hard to use. I wanted another one after it. But I pushed on and I made it to the top. I wasn’t even in last place! And the feeling of making it to the top without quitting almost allowed me to forget the sensation of my legs weighing 200lbs each. We met up with Ricart and the others for, what they called, the fun part: we had to ride down the other side! The trails we took were a bit too narrow and rocky for my taste, but that didn’t stop any of us from racing down, swerving in and out of horses in our way, slipping on gravel, and jumping any little ramp we could find. One of the guy’s James Bond-type-digital-bike-something-meter said that we actually reached speeds over 50km/h (I have no idea what that means) and traveled over 25km in total. I’m really happy I went and even glad that I biked up the first half, but if they ask me what I’m doing next weekend, I’m playing volleyball on the beach.