The Tour de Dad has entered the brutal phase. Less than 250 miles remain, but each comes at a price. Yesterday, the Weather Channel had promised northwest winds, and the athletes gamely talked of another 90-mile day. The morning’s southeast winds, the riders knew, would fade. But they did not fade. They strengthened. Around noon, the winds seemed to shift, only to cruelly smash right back into the riders’ faces. And then there were those hills. “Baby Monster,” ravaged Fred’s legs – he nearly called it quits after the 26th mile. When my dad reached BM’s peak, he slowed to yell another joke in the direction of the sag wagon. Instead he wobbled and, still clipped in, the wind threw him to the ground. Yet the riders again showed resilience. The got their 60 miles. But
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