From Zero to 629.4: Surviving the North Star Bicycle Race — Part 3

I thought I knew what pain was. I was wrong. Just outside of Two Harbors, I was facing wind gusts of 20–35 mph as I moved one painstaking mile marker at a time. Everything I owned was wet, and my ass felt like ground beef. I had cried in a Kwik Trip that morning, almost … [ Read more]

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