[Forgive the lack of photo. I'm only able to write from the Kindle right now because smartphones are dumb.]
It was me this time. I lost my finesse, but I've gained a whole lot of grit. Not that I actually repred the tire myself or anything. But I said some encouraging things to Aaron while he fixed the tire. And I was a champ at recognizing that something was wrong after lagging way behind for miles despite my attempts at all out exertion to keep up. Part of my problem is that I confuse mechanical failure with existential crisis/opportunity for self loathing, determining that I have lost all physical ability when in fact my bicycle is practically inoperable and has been for miles. Eventually, I expressed concern to Aaron by saying the bike felt "mushy" and I was "dying." He took it from there.