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I waved at dozens of motorcycles the next day as I wended my way south from my campsite at Lewis Lake into the little sister of Yellowstone , Grand Teton . It was a firstclass ride with yet another spectacular view around each curve . The paved road glided past the startling silhouette of sharp , craggy peaks which reminded the early explorers ( who obviously had been away from the comforts of home for way too long ) of breasts . In my opinion the Tetons looked more like wizard caps than women ’ s breasts . But you see what you want to see , and I ’ m sure the name appealed to those lonely guys — gamblers all — who had taken the chance of exploring the unknown instead of staying home where it was safe .
An antelope jam gave me an excuse to stop along the park road . It was then that I noticed , snaking through sagebrush beneath the towering peaks , a beautiful , smooth asphalt bike path that paralleled the road for miles . So I promptly shed my riding gear , donned shorts and a sports bra , and treated myself to an hour-long run beneath the magnificent peaks of the Teton Range .
Buzzing on a runner ’ s high , I reviewed the whole thousand miles I had just ridden , through the National Park Trifecta . It was a blanket finish for the three most beautiful places in the Northern Rockies . But in the final stretch , it was perennial favorite Yellowstone on the nose to win ; wild , beautiful Glacier to place ; and iconic Grand Teton in the money to show . And I went home a winner .