Article written by Roman Mica from everymantriathlon.com

What do you consider a long bike ride? I would say that anything over 50 miles is long, but many cyclists would consider any distance over a century ride (100 miles long). With that in mind, here are the ten milestones of a century bike ride.

Stage One: Anticipation and Preparation
A yes, the call of the open road beckons. The night before you go to bed a bit giddy. What adventures will the next day bring? Which team Jersey will you wear? It has to say "I know what I’m doing," but not shout "I’m a poser who wears yellow because I saw Lance wearing it."

For the ladies the decision is a much harder one. Not only must you color coordinate your cycling outfit, but you also must decide which shorts make your butt look smaller, and muscular, and curvaceous, and hot…all at the same time.

Stage Two: Load, Aim and Pull
You are at the start and it is way too late to back out now. Time to pull the trigger. There are hundreds of others on this Century Ride with you. So what’s the big deal anyway? It’s only 100 miles, or 160 Kilometers, or about the distance that you drive to work and back 10 times over. No big whoop!

After all you did put in the training when you biked around the neighborhood for a total of something like 10-miles after work over the last two months. How hard can 100 miles really be on your new Chinese made Exaggerator ZX-300 Crossfire Trekelo 1000 and 1?

Stage Three: Mile 20
You’ve made it to the first aid station and you feel great. The first hour was terrific. You rode like Lance, even without the help of those wimpy “teammates”. Now you get the savor a nice snack. Perhaps some chocolates chip cookies and warm orange juice. This is going to be a cakewalk. Besides you look great in your 1997 U.S. Postal team Jersey.

Stage Four: Bug Bite
Some how a nasty black biting bug got under your Jersey. Perhaps it was that old school mesh fabric, or that swarm of flying ants you just rode through. Now this critter is going to town on the soft fleshy part of your belly. All of a sudden you complete forget how to pop out of your clips as you furiously beat at your belly. In desperation you almost tear off your jersey as the bug gives you a farewell nip and flies away.

You come to a complete stop and promptly fall over like a fresh-cut tree. Lucky only your pride and belly are bruised, as literally hundreds of people stop and ask if you are OK.

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Stage Five: The Mysterious Noise
You mount your trusty Trekelo 1000 and 1 and start to peddle. You notice a mysterious noise coming from somewhere from the bowels of the bike. It seems to only happen when you peddle, or is it only when you shift, or is it only when you brake, or it is only when you don’t peddle, or it only when you climb, or is it only when you coast down the hill? It’s sort of a clicking banging, rubbing, ticking, scraping, swooshing sound. The only thing that you know for sure is that it only gets worse, the harder you listen.

Stage Six: Dry Mouth
You’ve made it halfway and the lush countryside around you seems to have suddenly turned into the Gobi Desert. At least that’s what your mouth is telling you. No matter how much tropical-rainforest-melon-aide you drink your mouth remains bone dry. This seems especially ironic as just minutes ago your nose ran with the intensity of 1000 Niagara Falls.

Stage Seven: Mirage
It’s hard to believe but you made it to the finish. There’s the finish line just a few feet ahead. You are a Centuryman! But wait! You remove your sunglasses and stare at the finish line. It turns out just to be railroad crossing with an optimistic sign that a happy 3rd grader created which reads, “Keep Going only 40 miles to Go”

You wonder if the other cyclist around you actually heard that scream, or if it was just something in your head.

Stage Eight: Death March
You now watch with a sort of happy-do-lucky sadomasochism as the miles slowly, and I do mean slowly, and when I say slowly I mean like a snail on a Sunday crawl slowly, click by. Mile 59………mile 59 and a quarter……mile 59 and a half…..mile 59.58. You now live for the aide stations. If you can only make it to the next one, you’ll be happy.

Stage Nine: Monkey Everything
Your legs are beyond lead. Your butt stopped itching and burning long ago. Your hands and your neck have turned to mush. Your head is always down. There could be a horny rhino charging down the road with the look of love in its eyes and you wouldn’t see it until it mounted you. And even then you would just let it do its business, share a cigarette, and keep peddling.

All you see now is the slow, inevitable revolutions of your feet as they forever propel you down the road. Bug bites, dry mouth, mirages, death march, all seems like a long lifetime ago as you just keep the feet moving one rotation at a time.

Stage Ten: The Setting Sun
Just as the sun kisses the earth, you roll across the finish line. You stop for the last time and dismount your bike. Your legs don’t work too well when it comes to that once familiar walking motion.

But you’ve done it. You’ve ridden 100 miles in one day. You are a Centuryman! A smile temporarily cross your sweat and salt stained mouth…that is until you realize that you still have another 5 miles to ride back home because your wife is still at her mother’s with the kids.