By Dan Zassick
Everyday I get on my bike saddle, and everyday I am reminded of the previous 1000 some odd miles my legs have slugged me though to get from Portland, OR all the way on down here to Las Vegas. It hurts. My butt hurts. My shoulders ache. And usually somewhere between 35 and 40 miles my knee reminds me that it didn’t want to be left out of the party and starts to hurt too. And yet we persist. Every day we get right back on that bike and we press on.