I unzipped my jacket, letting the flowing December air cool my core. I removed my glasses, then engaged in the all-too-familiar struggle to securely tuck them inside the front of my helmet. I took a sip from my bottle. I put my head down and took an odd comfort in the sweat dripping from the tip of my nose.

Then, lifting my gaze just long enough to spot a lone rider up the road, I let out a brief, sadistic grin and dropped my gaze again to focus on the pedal stroke. I was going to catch that rabbit.

As I neared my target, I realized he was a he. Perfect. Maybe there's something wrong with me, but I find few things on the bike to be more gratifying than the feeling I get when I pass a man. Keeping my steely gaze straight ahead as I went for the pass, I was caught off guard by a friendly question in my native language. "Beautiful day, huh?"

I broke my stride just long enough to offer a fake smile and a quick response, then kicked it in to high gear to ensure that he didn't mistake our shared language for an excuse to chat. That's not why I came here.

After a few minutes I glanced over my shoulder, pleased to see that he got the message. Or maybe he just didn't agree with the smell of my sweaty base layer. Whatever the case, I was happy to have caught my rabbit and moved on towards my destination -- my favorite little café near Grasse.

It's a bit awkward, sitting at a café after a hard workout in the city of perfume.

The city of Grasse, France, is known as the perfume capital of the world. This region's microclimate, exposed to the sunny Mediterranean to the south and sheltered by steep hills to the north, makes for an ideal location for flower farming. Not so long ago, around five thousand tons of flowers were harvested annually.

Grasse is the sole source of key ingredients in the legendary perfume, Chanel No. 5, among others.

This town also happens to be a good starting point for one of my all-time favorite rides, the Col de l'Ecre. It just so happens to be very near one of my favorite mid-ride coffee stops, Café du Cycliste, as well.

After a personal record on the Col de l'Ecre, I was only too happy to stop in and order myself a cappuccino and almond croissant.

As I waited in the bright Mediterranean sunshine on the patio, I dreamed of the vast flower fields that this region once held so dear. I sipped on my coffee, so immersed in thoughts of the grand perfumeries of the mid-20th century that I could have sworn I tasted a touch of jasmine in my cappuccino.