A cloud-shrouded sun just peeked over horizon Friday morning as Larry Heyn sat tall in the saddle pedaling his way eastward out of Great Bend. He and his bicycle hugged the U.S. 56 shoulder. The cool still of the morning was only broken by the hum of his tires on the asphalt, the rhythmic whirring of his pedal strokes, and the occasional birds chirping and cars whizzing past.