Her name was Karen. She was working the counter at Connie’s Country Corner. She just completed bartender school. “I’m a mixologist,” she proudly informed me. Has three daughters, 39, 36, and 32. “You have a daughter 39?” I asked. Turns out Karen was 60 years old.

Whoa. Whatever Karen was doing was working well. Bet it’s not riding a bicycle 250 miles in a weekend.

Why mile 49 and not 50? Because the store Karen was working at was at the base of a monster hill. I’d just done 3 or 4 monster hills at a breathtaking 2 to 4 miles per hour each hill. I didn’t have the strength to do another one just yet. Connie’s Country Corner, though they don’t accept credit or debit cards, still looked like a good place to avoid getting to that big ass hill.