On my first century, I was considering bailing as we headed into hill AFTER hill at mile 80. I had trained in the area, so mentally I thought I was prepared. However, fatigue was setting in and I was seriously considering throwing my bike in a ditch. My Brother-in-law and I started a mantra,
"The ferry (that took us across the river and into the flats) is over this hill."
"OK. It must be this hill."
"Seriously, this HAS to be the last hill."
We crested a hill and there was a buff cycling dude with an expensive bike sprawled out in the grass on the side of the road, looking like a (as we'd say in skiing) yard sale! I yelled, "Are you OK?"
He said, "Yeah. Just resting."
I started laughing so hard, that I forgot how much I was hurting. (I think we made it to the ferry about 3 hills after that. We thought we were home free until a group of tri-bikers said, "Only one more 18% grade to go!" Now that's why I don't usually socialize with other cyclists--I didn't need to know that!)
It's all mental. Just like a marathon. I was never a good runner, just more determined/pig-headed.
"Well-behaved women seldom make history." --Laurel Thatcher Ulrich
'09 Trek WSD 2.1 with a Brooks B-68 saddle
'11 Trek WSD Madone 5.2 with Brooks B-17