After realizing that I had become "That Guy", the crushing sense of distance from the car set-in. As my mind gripped around the situation, my energy level was zapped from the heat, and over-exertion from pushing a six-inch travel bike through the mountains, without a granny ring (destroyed at PMBAR and overlooked until this point.) The battle ensued within my own will to find the finish.
My role as "That Guy" played out as I was responsible for 4 flat tires, only 3 of which were on my own bike. I ripped off the nozzle of Eric tube, when pumping up the air pressure in his rear tire. Repairing this flat left the group with one tube and 16 miles to go. Sure enough, I used that last tube in the final stretch.
It was a long day in the woods. I found the wall, and pushed through. Thats what big rides are made of.
Long live long rides.
From Dawn...
To dusk.
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