Okay – anything I said yesterday about it being hot – seriously anything – I didn’t mean it. Today was a hard day for me, one of my hardest days of riding in almost two years. The day started off great with pleanty of fog and nice back roads. I stopped at pit one and had some bananas and headed off towards Quadbuster, the most dreaded hill on the entire ride experience. Up the hill I went and off my bike to cheer the riders on. I did this for some time and then headed back down the hill in order to ride it once more. I tell people it’s cause I want a challenge, but really it’s a good way to help struggling riders at the same time as showing off a bit. I spent some more time at the top and pushed on with my day. Let me take this time to tell you the theme of the day – duck, duck, goose. There were six riders with stuffed ducks on their helmets and me with a goose that squacked when you squeezed his belly. People kept telling me they liked my duck and I would kindly yet firmly tell them that it was a duck. He would come to be known as Bruce the Goose. We love him and he is staying on my helmet for another day, although there is some significant wind drag with him on. Then the ride turned a little sour. The fog burned off, along with my face, and the thermostat cranked up. At one point the thermometer said it was 102 degrees. No wonder I felt like total crap. It was interrupted however by the wonderful, yet ultimately scary town of Bradley. These wonderful kids were so happy to have us there and we raised so much money for them I like knowing that these will grow up to be amazing children, knowing no hate or prejudice for others not like themselves. We headed out and on to camp and I was hurting. The heat was overbearing, so much so that my tire popped causing me to SAG a half a mile into rest stop four. There was one point that I thought I was not going to make it to camp. I even asked another SF ride leader to watch my back for fear that I was going down. Somehow though I did make it to camp and promptly headed to the showers. This was the most amazing shower I’ve ever had…seriously. I ate three, count them three fat girl dinners with two pieces of pie and hobble off to bed. The route was a little over 77 miles with blazing sunrays of death, and my ass feels every mile. I’m off to bed kiddies. Here’s to hoping my straight tent mate will spoon me tonight.