Lightning doesn't strike twice...

But apparently bees do sting thrice!

Within the first 16 miles of my 46-mile bike ride today, I had gotten stung by not one, not two, but count 'em THREE bees - all completely separate incidents, each approximately five miles from one another.

I was wearing the same pink top I wore on STP; John and Matthew surmised that I must look like a flower to the darn things. I can't remember the last time I was stung. I think it was when I was 12 or 13. And oh my goodness, bee stings HURT! All three times I had to stop and get off my bike and hop around and yell.

So, the first incident - the bee flew at my left ear and got caught in the straps from my helmet. Sting #1 was just below left ear along the jawline. I batted at my ear with my left hand, then was able to yell back to the guys that I needed to pull over. They had no idea why - suddenly I was just freaking out - and it hurt so much I couldn't talk. All my effort was focused on not crying.

The second incident I think hurt the worst: I got hit mid-thigh on the right. That one swelled up right away and turned quite a bit of my leg bright red. I got off the bike, wincing, and waited the five minutes or so for the pain to dissipate. When I got back on the bike though I found that I could feel the pain while pedaling - but it was tolerable.

The third time attracted the most attention. (Oh, the other two, despite my hopping around and yelling "OW!!!," nobody on the trail asked if I was okay. And yes, there were TONS of people there. However, I was on the eastside...and eastside people are just not friendly.) But the third time likely would have attracted attention anywhere because it was straight on in the neck - right where a man's Adam's apple would be. Ow freaking ow. I hop off the bike holding my neck, which must have made it look a lot worse than it was. Lots of folks stopped to make sure I was okay, even though John and Matthew were right with me. But that time I was right in the city of Seattle and I think people are just friendlier. Actually, I think everyone who uses the Sammamish River Trail in Redmond and Woodinville is just downright unfriendly.

So anyway, other than that, the bike ride was pretty fun - 46 completely flat miles, designed for John's enjoyment. I thought it would be more of a relaxing, easy ride, but it's hard to hold both me and Matthew back, so pretty much we dragged John faster than he would have liked.

On the way back, I wanted to kill him. We had ridden 23 miles to a restaurant I like for lunch, then we obviously had 23 to go back. Well, John is a type 1 diabetic (insulin dependent). So he takes normal insulin with his lunch (I don't see this, though), and then we go out and start riding hard again. But exercise makes your blood sugar go down - so that coupled with the regular amount of insulin he took basically meant he couldn't get his blood sugar above 55. We had to stop three or four times on the way back so he could eat - two Luna bars, a Clif bar, and a bag of Jelly Beans - plus the Cytomax he had in his water bottle. WHATEVER! So we had a "talk" about how much insulin is appropriate to take on a bike ride. (My answer: NONE unless his blood sugar tests above 150; his answer: "half what I normally take." I bet mine would work better, and his will continue to make him get low.)

It's so frustrating that I know how to take care of his diabetes better than he does. Or at least I think I do, which probably makes it more frustrating for him, too.

Anyway, at least it was a gorgeous day. All three spots where I was stung are sore now, though. Yuck!