So Jason called me at 2pm (waking me up) to go mountain biking. I got up, showered, and got ready... By the time I got up there it was just after 4 pm. I was moving slowly. Rich had agreed to let Jason borrow his bike for the ride. We were doing the Shoreline that Matt and I rode a couple years ago.

We started up the trail thinking not bad... then came the climbs. Agony. Torture. Pain. None of these accurately describe what I was feeling. Remember I was up for 22 hours the day before, got 10 hours of sleep and was still tired. We slowly made our way up until I had to start walking. We got to the top of the first hill which greeted us with a short descent. Followed by a climb into Hell! At least that's how I felt. I made it part way and was starting to black out. Between that and my stomach I knew I had to get riding, and uphill was not the direction. So I turned around. After I got to the top of the first hill I was able to keep riding in circles to let my body catch up. Jason meanwhile was hoofing it to the top of the second climb. I waited until he had his fill and came back. We then took the decent back to the car.

I slowly again made my way home, where I just crashed. I just wanted to lay on my couch under a blanket all night. So I started up the 3rd Pirates movie which I hadn't seen yet and enjoyed the night.

Need to ride more.