It’s August, and the days are rapidly slipping by like seconds on a ticking time bomb. All the while, my ambitious return to Eugene inches nearer everyday. If you read the previous installment in this column, I’d understand if you had little to no faith in me. My tall task undoubtedly requires a lot more commitment than I had been putting forth thus far. But it’s a new month; I’ve got a new job, new friends and I’ve found my groove. From the Coast Range to the Cascades, I’ve been grinding higher, farther and faster. Do I have the willpower to continue pushing the pace?

Last time around, I recounted my experience on northwestern Oregon’s pristine Banks-Vernonia State Trail, winding and dipping through farmland, dense forest and the foothills of the Coast Range. Still a relative rookie, I was unable to complete the trail due to poor planning and resource management. Not this time.

With a better idea of what to expect and a spacious new hydration vessel, I was able to easily complete the 21-mile stretch to Vernonia, encountering cows, kitties and intimidating property owners. Better yet, I was able to make a full return, bolstering my total mileage to 42. Such a distance, especially featuring over 1000 feet of elevation gain, is no small feat, but with the sun glistening upon the gorgeous Oregon countryside, all you have to do is take it tree by tree.

After enduring such a ride with limited peril, my qualms were eased, providing a glorious confidence boost. It was right back to business as I set out on the very same route only a few days later. Biking for hours on end up steep gradients and in the heat is never easy, but it gets easier every time. I found myself less sore and less concerned about the more challenging sections of the trail, taking fewer breaks and pedaling more consistently. Round two on the BVST was just another day at the office.

On August 3, my family and I set off for Sunriver to join up with relatives for five days of Central Oregon fun. Knowing this neck of the woods pretty well by now, I was over the moon to try out some trails in a biker’s paradise. I downloaded a cycling GPS app on my phone and began planning a monstrous 63-mile ride looping around Mount Bachelor. When the day finally rolled around, I was legitimately nervous; increasingly smoky skies, high desert temperatures and absurd elevation posed genuine safety risks. Going in, I knew there was a high chance I would have to call it in and contact my dad for a rescue pick-up.

At noon sharp — which my family argued was far too late — I embarked on my journey. I quickly realized that this was going to be very different and extremely arduous. See, this route didn’t take place on perfectly paved trails. No, I was cruising snugly on the side of high-speed mountain highways, with massive vehicles whizzing past me. Getting pancaked was officially added to the risk list.

The first stretch of the trail isn’t flat, but compared to what’s to come, it might as well be. I was enjoying myself, but with the mountain looming high in the distance and my elevation map showing bright red spikes, I knew tormenting pain was in my near future. Almost immediately, things got steep. And when I say steep, I mean never ending inclinations straight up to the sky. Don’t even get me started on the wind.

For nearly three hours, I climbed and climbed until I was parallel with the Mount Bachelor ski resort. There were moments where I felt like I was hardly moving an inch and my water was depleting quicker than ever before. Even worse, I had already exhausted my food supply. But what goes up must come down.

For the next bunch of asphalt, my tires screamed down the busy road at speeds I didn’t know were possible. At this point, I really had to keep a watchful eye, swiveling my head behind me to see if any cars were fast approaching. More often than not, they were. All I could do was hope they saw and could make a safe maneuver around me.

The gradient was relieving and the views were spectacular. I took a moment to capture some pretty shots of the Cascades and their gorgeous mountain waterways. The chilly water was a necessary refresher for the second half of the ride, which featured a forgiving declination.

But with hardly any water, not a crumb of food, tired legs and wildfire smoke beginning to hinder my breathing, bad turned to worse. I made it 50 demanding miles before I decided to call it quits. On a clearer day, I believe I could have completed the final 13, but the smoke and the heat had me feeling woozy and shaky. My dad came to my aid and I laid the day to rest with a smile on my face. I knew, despite all odds, I had just completed a ride likely more challenging than my final mission. For the most physically taxing activity I’ve ever attempted, I felt damn good the next morning.

At the end of the day, there’s not many people that can say they’ve cycled 50 miles with a 3,600 foot gradient — and for that, I’m proud. It’s back to Portland and onto the next. Let’s get it done.