I apologize in advance for the next three to five minutes of your life.

Because we need to talk, at length, about my ass. It's been a solid six months since I've been on my bike (Roberta Worthington Schnell, if you'll recall). But tonight I took her out of the hallway, where she's stood stagnant for months, and onto the roads.

I ended up going for a 25-mile ride, which was fantastic. My running legs appreciated the change. My ass, however, did not.

Right now, as we speak, I feel like I sat on a baseball bat. Or a Coke bottle. Or any such cylindrical object that belongs nowhere in or around the vicinity of my assets. This is, like, major case of bike butt.

And it got me thinking, "OH MY GOD I HAVE A 175-MILE RIDE IN THREE WEEKS."

Because I do. The MS Ride is in three weeks. I have to ride 100 miles on Saturday and 75 miles on Sunday. Do you have ANY idea what it's going to be like to mount that bike on Sunday with 100 miles of bike butt on my rear end?

If I knew what it was like to be sodomized, I'm pretty sure this would be it. It actually hurt, as I was riding, to stand up off of the seat. The act of removing my rear from the seat just so I could pedal harder caused me pain.

I am a delicate ass, OK. Literally. It needs to be treated with kindness and love and pampering. Sitting on a post for 175 miles is in no way any of the above.

So this is where I need all of you know-it-all cyclist types to remedy the situation for me. Do this for my butt, people. It needs you. To answer the questions I know are burning to be asked, yes, I wear bike shorts, and 'Bert is a Giant road bike with a standard seat.

By "standard seat" I mean, "ouch."