57 miles

Up to 4 miles, cycling is no fun. It's only after that distance that your muscles are properly warmed up and you start enjoying it as opposed to just wanting to go home and feel sorry for yourself. I know that, so I don't get discouraged and I apply all my energy to warming my muscles up.
After that, up to ca. 20 miles, it's seriously fun, sun is shining, interesting birds are flying, all hills are ascendable and it's so cool to ride down them!
Past 20 miles it's time for a small rest, a stretch, a sandwich, and off we go again, all positive and happy, cause it is such a beautiful day and I'm going to beat my distance record and all.
At around 25 miles, it is however starting to become harder, the muscles feel tired and on steeper inclines I start to struggle - or so it feels, as I always end up getting both me and Bob the bike to the top. .
At 30 miles I'm properly tired. I'm starting to speculate whether I actually do have to do those 50 miles or if I could just go home now. But soon I want to continue, cause look, I've beaten my record and I'm still cycling! Besides soon we'll make a proper stop and have a good rest, it will be fine.
A couple of miles later, all I can think of is a pub or a shop where we could refill our bottles hence forcing the stop, cause God it hurts when it's uphill!
And after that stop it is all better, I'm still tired but I think that if we can stop when needed, I'll be fine. I'm just slightly worried: Paul has to pull my gloves off for me, as my fingers are no longer prehensile.
45th mile: I get off my bike, sit down and cry. 'I can't do it, it is too hard' I sob pathetically blowing my nose into the surrounding foliage.
Paul takes me litterally and suggests we find me a nice place to wait and he'll go and get the car, as nothing is worth such misery.
It takes me a while to make him understand that I was just letting off pressure and that I'm fine, really, and I really meant 'I'm finding this very difficult, I need some encouragement, but I'll still do it'.
'Well, that's not what you said' says Paul and I think he is a little bit annoyed that I'm speaking female at him and expect him to understand.
But anyway - we get back on our bikes and get safely home, 57 miles on the counter all together. We shower and put the barbacue on. We have a couple of beers. My legs aren't even hurting really (though the fingers in my left hand still refuse to cooperate) and I feel extremely proud of myself.