In yesterday’s post, I was a third of the way through one my main goals for the summer: Riding a mountain century (100 miles). Today, 30 miles into the Roan Moan, I contemplate the nearly 70 miles to go.
Thirty miles into a mountain ride I wasn’t prepared for and I had yet to cramp. For at least the next 30 miles I wasn’t likely to, either.
I was afraid it was about to happen three miles into the ride. I had grave concerns at Mile 24, became concerned again at Mile 51, was taken by surprise by the short climb at Mile 63 and thought worried it might happen then, and was surprised that it didn’t during the long pull between Miles 65 and 74. I was certain, though, that it would happen between Miles 80 and 87, I just wasn’t sure how severe it would be. And at that point, if I made it that far, I didn’t really care.
We’re down to our last month of summer before the ceremonial start of fall come Labor Day. Get out and make the most of what’s left of the season.
Coast
Two weeks ago we suggested you check out the 6th Annual Reef/Sweetwater Pro-Am Surf Fest at Wrightsville Beach. If you did, we’re guessing you were intrigued by the thought of riding the waves on a long board. Intrigued, but perhaps at a loss as to how to take the first step toward participating in 7th Annual Reef/Sweetwater Pro-Am Surf Fest. Step 1: Enroll in surf camp, specifically the “Get Stoked Surf Camp” offered by Hot Wax Surf Shop in Emerald Isle. The 2-hour class begins at 8 a.m. and includes surfboard rental; all you need to bring are some cool surfing shorts (and water and sunscreen and a rash guard). $70.
Spence March has long been concerned over whether his kids are getting enough exercise. Four years ago, he enrolled them in a running program. And being a good dad and realizing that kids pay more attention if you practice what you preach, he enrolled with them. It was a good experience for all, but March wasn’t content to let it be a one-time event.
Steve uttered an annoyed grunt and pulled off the trail. “My seat,” he said. “It slipped.” Instinctively, I pulled over to take a look. He gave me a funny a look, gave the seat a quick shove, and hopped back on. Moments later, another annoyed grunt, followed by another trailside stop. “I need to get out my wrench.” Again, I pulled over and stopped.