people though, this type of riding—riding that is not fun—inevitably leads them to wonder, why? What is the point of all this?

As she gets one day closer to the record, endorphins begin rushing through her body—she feels a sense of euphoria.

During my visit to Flatwoods, I pose this question to one of Amanda’s friends, Jared Barr, a marketing officer at Florida College. Jared had just gotten into cycling when he met Amanda and Kurt Searvogel, and he logged his own first-ever century ride with them at the park. He’s since become hooked on the sport, lost of a bunch of weight himself, and recently began mountain biking at Flatwoods with his 12-year-old son.

Before Jared answers, he takes a long breath and thinks for a moment. “On the surface,the seven-mile time trial.

When my speed drops, she tells me to pick it up. She tells me I’m doing great, and points out trail hazards, like a bunny that bounds across my path. I hug the inside of the turns, and pedal harder where I would normally begin to fade.

As we reach the end of the lap, I empty my tank and meet my own goal, averaging 25mph. Amanda stops riding, a rare sight during her day, and gives me a fist bump. She’s as stoked as I’m exhausted. I tell her that was fun. Then she takes off again.

She'd go on to log more than 270-miles three days in a row, and then record her 302-mile ride just two days before finishing the attempt on Sunday, May