"Grander-than-Fondo" awakening on a September morning, 1965 seemed so long ago- quickly it passed as merely a thought. Fore the cusp of the Autumn Equinox would remind me later in the day, that the Sun was quickly parting from Summer skies... The long road that lay ahead would rise up and further up on this day. 9,200 feet up, in fact. It was time to step out of the shadows of reservation and face my biggest challenge yet... My early morning smile would soon turn to a grimace as the reality of the journey would let itself be known with the first of many climbs. As the battle today would not pit man against machine, but rather man against his own limitations and the natural terrain of cruel, unrelenting ascent. With legs, lungs and will, I would drag myself and my machine over the slopes of Schooleys, Turkey Hill Rd, Milford-Statts and then Ademic Hill...as steep grades of 15% to 24% smacked me square, left then right, like a heavy-weight champ... Still, I banged the drum of epic themes and suffering. All for the uncertain glory of middle-aged dreams...like the 'Mitty' I had never known... The Highlands remained steadfast, anchored in their majestic beauty and natural dare. From the Valley of Long to the Musconetcong Plains, the Centurion of Ascension stood tall, guarding the gates... And so the unyielding miles passed, but certainly not unnoticed. Cronos, became both friend and foe...as the day and the shadows of Sol closed in. At the 81st mile my went off exploring...with question and the ache of dull, unrelenting pain. Just one more mile was my only thought. Edging closer to the end, my tired body was now faltering, just a bit. With the finish almost in sight, a spark of life emerged and while dreaming...(at Paddock Hill Bend- I poked a knee out and stuffed it inside of 'ol Hislop...) then with one more push out of the saddle, I headed for home. This is Giro...