"On Monday I nearly got hyperthermia and today I'm about to have heat exhaustion," I said paying for a diet Pepsi and a water.

"I can see that," the bored woman at the Stites grocery said.

She was probably right but not for the reasons she thought she had.

Dave Tibbals made the 2 hour drive from Moscow arriving only a few minutes behind me. Jim and Lee drove in moments later. They'd been at the bakery since 7. The surprise was Mike Warnock. Mike has an old homestead above the Clewarwater near Nez Perce. He had come down for a short quick ride. He planned to leave us at Grangeville and ride back along highway 7 and down Seven Mile. Instead he rode part way up the Old White Bird Hill. He got a pretty long ride himself today.

The ride along the Southfork of the Clearwater is matched by very little else around for beauty. This morning was perfect at nearly 70 degrees. The bikes seemed to pedal themselves. Kooskia flew by, then Stites.

We stopped to take pictures. I knew we had many more opportunities including, I hoped, between the base of Mt. Idaho and Harpster.

Stop at the Harpster store for water? "Why?" Jim said. "I just took my first drink." But we knew we had a climb coming and enjoyed the break.

And Jim, whose idea all this had been, continues to prove his madness. His wife, Clair, denies that we created this monster though she does think we are enablers. He confessed to having been a bit nauseous at the top of Harpster. Seems he had challenged himself to ride in his big ring. He knew Whitebird was coming and still played silly games with himself. Dangerous. That man is dangerous.

Harpster Grade is six miles long but at an even grade. I was afraid Jim wanted to climb Mt. Idaho since he has discovered his new fondness for hills. But he had Googled the route and discovered it was 50.3 miles between Kamiah and Whitebird. Just a century if you make it a round trip. Google, however, doesn't know about the windy ride up the Old Whitebird Hill on the north side nor the extra miles of switchbacks on the south side. I had 56 miles at Hoots.

We hadn't eaten much in Grangeville at 10:30. We felt good and not hungry. We probably should have had a big meal. At Hoots we were afraid to eat much before climbing up the hill in temperatures nearing if not at 100 degrees. I had an eggsalad sandwhich. It wasn't enough. Lee was already having digestion problems. His BLT wasn't sitting well and he told us later that he saw no way he could ever make it up Whitebird. We rode along together for a ways until he essentially told me to go ahead. We agreed that we had to settle in and expect to take frequent breaks. With stomache problems Lee ended up taking a couple of more breaks than the rest of us. We stopped twice and regrouped. Just beyond the official finish line, I found one shady spot on the entire hill. Lee stopped briefly but hurried on looking for a porta-potty. I know that feeling. We found him at the summit, his bike off in the grass.

He had knocked on a door and gotten a bathroom and fresh water. This was a renewed Lee.

Lee and I have never had a chance to finish a ride together until today. On the way to Kamiah he warned Jim that he was nervous about being able to do this ride. On the route, he asked me about the hills as though he hadn't known there were going to be any. I called him on that point. "This is not the route to pick for your first century of the season." Linda had talked about doing it. She's covered this area and knows its beauty. I talked her out of it. Her first words to me as I walked up the steps at 8:45 were "I'm so glad I didn't go."

I knew Lee could do the course even if he didn't. This spring I had told him I didn't think he was ready for a century. He promptly went out and did one on his own. That kind of determination can't be taught. Lee would finish.

Back in Grangeville having lunch at 4:30 none of us wanted to add Mt. Idaho though it only added about 8 miles most of which would be downhill. We were all pretty devasted. I called Linda at 5 just before we left. She couldn't believe we still had 34 miles to go.

After 6 in the afternoon. We stopped at the Stites grocery only ll miles from Kamiah and the end of our ride not so much to buy something as to have a break.

That shady park behind the store looked inviting and I immediately lay down for a Largent nap. The park wasn't as cool as it should have been. In fact June 2nd had no business feeling like August 5th at all.

The Stites store clerk had quizzed Jim and Lee about the ride. When she discovered we had ridden from Kamiah to Whitebird and back, she suggested we were not quite right. By the time I got to her she had already made up her mind.

But what she saw was a short, pudgy, old man, sweaty, visibly tired with puffy bags under my eyes. The eyes themselves were bloodshot and, from my side, blurry and filled with a fine grit. I had a cold. The exposure on Monday must have made be vulnerable. I haven't felt bad and wasn't going to miss this ride. I'm glad I didn't but I don't remember being quite this wasted even after the 165 miler Cliff and I did last summer. For sure it was much warmer today.

It may not be decorous to talk of stomach cramps, but we've all been there. Making all the pieces come together for a long ride can be tricky. I'm fit for most centuries, but I couldn't have known I'd have a cold that would decide to manifest itself in my eyes. The Stites clerk saw my eyes and thought she saw heat exhaustion.

I've found myself in the bushes a couple of times, too. And none of us counted on the heat. We could have skipped riding to Hoots. We probably should have, but we survived and though we were all pretty exhausted, we had not tried to do more than we were trained for. Okay, we did push the limits.

It was Dean's fault. Really. Lately I have been under vicious attack by my friends. On Monday Dean tried to give me hypothermia near Pierce. Then Jim comes up with the bright idea to ride to Whitebird and back.

Perhaps I should learn to "just say No."

Sorry, I'm addicted.

But that doesn't mean I'm going to Let Sean beat me up on his mountain bike ride on Sunday. I have my limits.