Have you ever smelled the perfume or cologne of someone you once loved and suddenly you're transported back into time? Your pulse quickens. The same visceral feelings flood back through your veins. You hear the sound of their laugh, fondly remember the way their eyes crinkled, and how safe you felt in their embrace? Scent locks in memories like a treasure chest.

In biking, certain roads hold that same power. It's all etched in stone, and once my wheels roll over that part of the road, it unlocks specific conversations I had, or how I felt mentally years ago racing that same section. Riding up Chalk Hill yesterday, it was only the sound of gears turning over and heaving breathing. But I swear I could hear cowbells and loud cheering and people screaming from the sidelines- You're almost at the top! Keep going! Don't quit! 

Memory baffles me at times. How quickly it can be erased. How quickly it returns with the smallest trigger, or on the slightest of whims.