I GAVE BIRTH TO A BICYCLE

Once again Autumn has beat me to recapping the very exciting day we had on Saturday. She is a lot better at documenting things in detail than me. I tend to remember only bits and pieces of riding my bike. Probably some kind of exercise related Post Traumatic Stress Disorder going on.
I have decided that cycling is like child birth (or so I hear). You are in crazy pain the whole time and you want to just die, and then 20 minutes after the kid is born you forget all about that pain and want another one. Or whatever. That is what getting on your bike is like. All I want to do is get off of of that stupid bike, until I do. Then I am like "Sure! I can do 60 miles, no problem!" No! Stop!
Anyway, what I do remember from Saturday is Autumn and I discussing that we both have internal wars going on for at least the first 10 miles (for me its more like 20) where there is, in our minds, no POSSIBLE way we will be able to complete the ride we are on. I often consider spontaneously contracting a disease or suddenly noticing my foot is broken. Or just quitting for no valid reason. But I have found after you warm up, both your body and your brain, to the idea of being on a bike for 8 hours, the time does not really go that slow. It really is more of a mind game for me. 80 miles sounds a lot less scary than 8 hours of exercise, so I am trying to think of it more in terms of miles and less in terms of hours of my life not spent doing something more fun...like root canals or feeding wild, ravenous monkeys or something. Ok, ok, it's not THAT bad.
What is that bad is some horrible little middle aged man telling you you look like you are "really trying." I know Autumn mentioned this in detail, but I have to reiterate the horribleness. Now if you know me, you know how much I like talking to strangers in the first place: There is a REASON I am not making eye contact with you. Now go away! Do I LOOK like I am trying to be friendly? (and you wonder why I am single!!!) But really, it is one thing for some middle aged, overweight creep to talk to you awkwardly when all you want to do is get home, but it's another thing for them to be patronizing, condescending...jerks (EDIT FOR AUTUMN'S MOM).
Do not come up to me and tell me I look like I am trying hard. I may punch you, or tell you I hope you die soon. I have not done one of these things before. You can guess which one.
Something else I remember from Saturday was that despite the fact the ride was pretty much exactly the same as the ride I did a month ago, I had no idea where I was. So basically I remember that I don't remember anything from my rides and therefore should not be put in charge of navigation.
I didn't ride Sunday,as it was Mother's Day observed in my family, but I did see Chris and Mel riding on PCH and ducked so they didn't see me because I felt guilty for not being on a bike.
In other news: I wore my bolero on Saturday. I tried to keep in on as long as possible in order to protect my arms from the harmful effects of tan lines on my social life, but Autumn didn't get any pictures. So sad for you.
-Caitlin