To Mount Faber, 52 km. Weekends are "no alarm clock" days. After working hard to wake me up five days a week, my alarm clock needs a break on weekends. I get out of bed close to 10. Yeah, perfect 10. I don't get a break from training: the usual five laps up and down the hill. A taxi driver honks me and asks me where I got my jersey from. At the end of my ride, just as I'm about home, someone asks me "are there any trails nearby". The enquirer: a young dad who's "just back from Colorado".
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