PSYCHE! If my knee could talk or otherwise verbalize this is what it would be screaming at me. All week, I rode my bike. I took it easy riding for three consecutive days. Twice on the road and one muddy trip up Bonneville North. No problems. I may have been able to feel it but that could just as easily had been the hypocondriac in me. After getting reports that Bonneville extreme south was dry, we made arrangements to meet up with some people and ride. Chris and I planned on riding from home. We left a bit late and had to push the entire time on the road. After a quick chat with Tim and Carson at the trail head, the four of us took off to do some mountain biking. It felt good to be on a local trail. The dryness and ridability made it even better. Things were going fine. The sun was shining unexpectantly--I swear the weather models can not predict anything, but I am much happier when it is ends up nice instead of being stormy as the weather reports indicate. Then the trail pitched up for a climb as the resistance increased and I realized I was in trouble. The Old Pueblo pain was back right where I remembered it on where my vastus medialis inserts into the knee. It started on seated climbs, then when I stood up, and finally progressed to almost any pedal stroke with resistance. By the two hour mark, I was in serious trouble. I made it back thanks to my left leg. Tim then had to take me home as I licked my wounds yet again.