Words by Taylor Weichman
Photos by Tyler Siems and James Gann
The dust started taking shape in the distance, a few hundred yards away, contrasted against the trees lining the small gravel road, miles from anywhere. The heat and wind were held in the little pass, and the dust devil began to stir and whip feverishly with nowhere to go. The cyclone built in front of us, blocking our path. I wasn’t going to be stopped, so I chose. I pedaled.
“DO IT!” was the last thing I heard before diving into the center of the maelstrom. Pulled everywhere and nowhere, I pedaled.
Amidst personal turmoil, I almost did not make it to the Land Run 100 [link landrun100.com], but I chose to make the journey. The weekend held joy, despair, love, loss, agony, and elation. Sometimes those all came and went within a mile, and sometimes they played out over many. As I worked through my own challenges, physical and mental, I found myself among friends. Some I had known for years, and some I met only minutes earlier. 103 miles among my people, old and new, was what I needed. Each mile was the chance to choose to go or not go, to push further and to push farther.
The Land Run is about those personal challenges, and about those connections you make along the way. When you see the cyclone taking shape in front of you, put your head down, hear your friend will you forward, choose to pedal, and pedal. Do it.
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