Well shit, already.

View of EVERYTHING from the British Properties.

So, binned last weekend's long ride because a friend came over until 1am (no worries), and so I slept in a little the next day but then Michael was like "oh hey, we have to meet people for dinner at 6:30" and we only had started riding so late in the day that we were only able to pull off a 50k ride.
Fine.  This weekend I said it would be a minimum, MINIMUM 80k on Sunday.  So we ride out to Cleveland Dam, wind our way through the British Properties, only to find the access road to the Cypress Bowl Road blocked because rich people can do anything.  What do we do?  We find some old access trail and literally portage our fucking road bikes through this to try and get onto the road.  Seriously.  I am shouldering my Specialized, and then the trail just goes to shit and Michael has to take both bikes and some poor hiker has to help me practically scramble up some bullshit trail and I'm like "so this is... cycling?".
No worries.  Dirtied, tired and pissed off, we emerge like bush people back into civilization (and the road) and grind from the 6k mark to the top of Cypress where Michael said there was this great cafe where we could get some thing to eat, which is why - even though I'm hypoglycemic - I didn't take ANY EXTRA FOOD.
Funny story: the cafe's not open.  We're not even the first cyclists coming to this realization.  Fun times.  I'm starting to get the shakes since I have been cycling and, erm, bushwhacking for about two hours and all I've had is a bowl of cereal and a Luna bar.  The only vending machines at the top of the mountain sell pop.  No chocolate bars, chips, nothing.  I have maybe three quarters of a ginger ale and bundle up for the descent.
It's my fault we started out too late in the day so we had to encounter an incredible number of assholes both driving up and down Cypress.  Seymour is a much harder hill climb, but I will take it any day of the week over Cypress with it's mid-life crisis losers in Vettes hammering it up and down the hill at unsafe speeds.
Hey: I get that you can't get it up anymore and you had to drop 70k on a shit car to prove this, and that you're further enraged that you can't even contemplate the idea of making it to the the top of the mountain under your own power, but no need to buzz me, bro.
Get to the bottom of the hill.  Not feeling great.  Getting increasingly shaky and with that fun feeling about just going to sleep.  Past starving, starting to not even think that straight and I'm told we have to ride along the side of the highway (three lanes, maybe four one way?) until the next exit to Dundarave.

Subway makes it all better.

Dude: this is the highway that I quit my job over because I couldn't handle driving it, and now I have to ride my bike on the side of it?  Holy god shit.  My therapist's mantra for me is "I'm breathing in" (as I breathe in) and "I'm breathing out" (as I breathe out).  Well, I killed that mantra until the 15th Street exit.
Found a Subway.  Didn't pass out.  Enjoyed Ambleside while my blood sugar and blood pressure returned to normal.
Was very proud of myself for my almost 60 mile ride today until I got home and realized that Michael had set his watch to kilometres, so that I AGAIN binned a ride because I only did 60k.  If I had known it was only 60k I would have kept on riding for another 20 or 30.  What is it with this training regime?  I can't get a break.
If you need me tomorrow I will be doing the Demo forest for hours and hours.