Wow. I feel like a spoiled princess right now. All my clothes are freshly laundered. I have my own bedroom, a bathroom, fluffy towels, food and cold beverages readily available, and internet access. If you have any or all of these things, please take a moment and be grateful for them. I'll wait.

I made it to my cousin's place in Greensburg, PA, right outside of Pittsburgh, and I can't even describe how glad I am to be here. Even the short and relatively flat 20 mile ride today was a challenge given my current physical condition. It was as though 75% of my muscle fibers just decided to take the day off, with or without me. Reaching your body's physical limits is frustrating in a way that's similar to getting a computer error message that says you don't have permission to do something. You think, "How can I possibly not have permission? I OWN you! I paid GOOD MONEY for you!"

I had been looking forward to stopping in Latrobe, PA, former home of Rolling Rock beer, ever since I saw it on the map last week. I'm not sure why, since I've been on many brewery tours and never particularly enjoy them, and Rolling Rock is not even one of my favorite beers, but for some reason I was excited to see the brewery. I only found out as I was pedaling into Latrobe, checking my iPhone for an address, that Rolling Rock is no longer brewed in Latrobe—it was sold to Anheuser-Busch a couple years ago. Well, I'd gotten so excited about seeing the brewery that I decided to check it out anyway.

I pulled up to the brewery and found 8 or 10 guys sitting outside on their lunch break and said hello. I explained that I'd biked all the way from Boston (by the way, I'm now far enough away from Boston that this always gets a very impressed response) and was hoping for a tour. They all volunteered Carl, a 28-year veteran of the brewery, to show me around, which he was nice enough to do. He took me up to the control room where the flow of beer ingredients from one stage to the next is managed by a computer whose graphics look eerily similar to those used for the scoring systems in bowling alleys.

Life used to be simpler back when all they brewed was Rolling Rock, but these days they brew a few different local beers so they have to keep track of which ingredients to use for each batch. He showed me the hoppers where malt is measured out in 20,000 pound batches, the brew kettle where the hops are mixed in for flavoring, the fermentation tanks with yeast pumps that look like giant air compressors, and the storage tanks where the beer is aged. The whole process takes about 3 weeks—1 week for fermentation and 2 for aging.

Carl and the other guys have had a tumultuous few years. The brewery has been shut down several times, and different beers have been brewed there off and on, and the workforce is now a fraction of what it once was. Later, at lunch at Reeb's Bar and Grille, I tried to order an Iron City (one of the local beers that is now brewed in Latrobe) but the delivery hadn't come in. So I ordered a Rolling Rock instead (or "Rock" as the bartender called it). It was a little sad to read the inscription on the bottle: "From the glass lined tanks of Old Latrobe, we tender this premium beer for your enjoyment as a tribute to your good taste. It comes from the mountain springs to you."