Your training log book contains nothing but daily century rides.
Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet nor hail shall stop you from your appointed training ride.
You plan rides that start from Gunn and always seem to include a lunch stop at the Saturn Cafe in Santa Cruz.
You begin to get jittery after one full day of not riding.
You look at a century route and immediately start plotting out extra hilly loops.
You have to force yourself to take a break from your lunchtime ride and go back to work.
You spend New Year's day blocking out rides for the upcoming year, and discover that your Dayminder Calendar leaves you with less than 2 hours per week "quality time" for your non-cycling family and friends.
You frequently "take the long way home" after work and get home after 10:00 PM and 4000 ft of climbing.
You wear bike clothes and a Camelback to work even when you're not planning to ride that day.
You spend Sunday evenings replenishing the stash of batteries you have placed along Skyline so you can go for longer night-time rides during the week.
Any one of your bikes is worth more than your car.
You choose an apartment solely on the basis of whether or not it is flat enough to ride into and how close good roads/trails are.
You actually move farther from work so the bike commute will be more heavy duty.
You mentally log every meal as "good fuel" or "bad fuel".
Your learn you have X money left over after paying bills and the first thing you do is reach for the nearest bicycling catalog.
75% of the tools you own are from Park or Campagnolo.
You dream of winning the lottery, and the first thing you think of is "how many/which bikes can that money buy?"
You can tell your significant other with a straight face that its too hot to mow the lawn then take off and ride a century.
Someone in a car asks for directions and you accidentally give them a route that includes motor vehicle barriers, or a route that bypasses all freeways/busy roads, or is very scenic.
You're in your car & lost, but instead of consulting a AAA map you lean out the window and look for colored arrows on the pavement at each intersection.
You buy a car based on whether or not a bike will fit in the trunk/back.
You pull up hard on the steering wheel trying to bunny hop your car over a pot-hole.
You know the distance of every point of interest within 20 miles of your house as well as the location of every pot-hole along the way.
You refuse to buy a couch because that patch of wall space is taken up by the bike.
You pull your car into the driveway and subconsciously twist your heel to clip out of the accelerator.
You see glass on the road and point it out for the car behind you.
You can't find the brake levers on the steering wheel.
You try to stand up to go over speed bumps/railroad tracks...
You signal a turn and hit your passenger.
You try to shift gears by twisting the gearstick.
You read this expecting it to be funny then realize that it all applies to you.