I have been chasing my road bike century for three years and attempts now. I rode my first century and long rides on my hybrid, back when I didn't know how crazy it was to ride 100 miles on a 30+ pound bike with suspension seatpost and fork.
Then M gave me a road bike for my 30th birthday. The first century attempt ended in a crash.
The second century attempt- a year later- ended with capitulation at mile 85 with mechanical failure.
The third attempt- at the very well organized "Cycle the Lakes" sponsored by the Cottage Grove Rotary Club- has also ended, at mile 66 with hitting a rogue curb. So far, it's just major, major bruising. As in, a hematoma the size of a large cantaloupe on my leg, three inches high at the height.
I have decided to name my poor bike. It shall now henceforth forever be known as the Bambino, as in, Curse of The.
In other news, the only reason I was able to actually ride this ride was because I begged my poor, long-suffering, and patient boss to have that Saturday off, and our sweet Rector Emeritus was happy to fill in at Circle Service (the alternative St. Mary's service) so I could ride.
Clearly, God is telling me to never ask for a day off unless it is already clear. If you have to ask the retired guy, it's a sign. DANGER! DANGER!
The Retired Guy was very happy to step up on Sunday morning to celebrate as well, so the Poor Long-Suffering Boss wasn't all alone. Also luckily, the Boss was preaching anyway, so it wasn't like I bailed on a sermon. Though as I pointed out, if I DID have to bail on a sermon, I'd have forwarded it, and the Boss could have read it for me.
Finally, the Boss brought communion over for me, which was very nice, as I really do love my little parish community and felt bad that I couldn't be there with them. But let me tell you... communion whilst on narcotics- WOW.
The initial reading was about how the elements are the body and blood of Christ for us, and through eating the bread and drinking the wine, we live forever. Basic Christianity 101, right?
In my loopy narcotic state, it struck me as the most patently ridiculous thing ever. I starting laughing uncontrollably, realizing that I spent my entire life working for an invisible dude in the sky that no one has conclusively proved even exists. I get paid to tell people that a little wafer of bread-like substance is a real symbol of their salvation by a Jewish dude who caused trouble. The entire premise on which I base my life and work is essentially insane. I mean, time travel has had more scientific investigation than this one!
And yet, I still believe it.
I'm also really glad that one of our hard-core scientists is going to do a Sunday Symposium on hard-core science and faith. It will be really cool.