I hate hills.

Got back from my graduation present trip to Las Vegas, picked up my bike from the bike shop and jumped right back in to riding with a 40ish mile ride with my dad.  It was my favorite kind of ride, a long tough 20 miles out with a strong head-wind that you know will be at your back as soon as you hit the turn around point.  We went to a trail that I hadn't been to in years, with a killer hill section infamous for causing my baby sister to go out of control and crash into a tree. This confirmed for me that I am without a doubt a plains rider, and if I run into any bears in the mountains out west it better be on the way down.