The Unbound Gravel 200 is a grueling race. The past two years, upon completion, I said I would never do it again. As time passes and the worst memories fade, I find myself dreaming of the Kansas landscape and when January rolls around, I sign up again. I don’t know if it will tempt me in the future, but this year I did not get off my bike saying never again. This year, I learned something new, which has made me excited not only for this race, but for everything I will get to do in the upcoming year. I learned, and truly understood to my core, the power of mindset.
If you follow gravel at all, to be sure, you have already heard about the conditions at Unbound Gravel in 2023. There were multiple muddy hike-a-bike sections, train delay, heat, rain, lightning, hail, and cold. The only thing Kansas didn’t see fit to throw at us was wind. This led to a 55% finisher rate, slow times, and a lot of complaining.
The official start time was 6:00 am. A slight delay led us to start at 6:05 am and half the field got caught at the train tracks three blocks from the start. It would have been more annoying if my goal had been to race this year, but back issues had led to a reduced training block and I was purely out there to finish. This year, I was planning on taking pictures, taking breaks, and making friends, so I sighed over the riders who jumped the gate to beat the train, but took this in stride.
In typical fashion, we barreled out of town at 20+ mph, slowing only a little as we turned onto the gravel a couple miles into the race. We kept up the pace for about 11 miles, then turned the corner to stare aghast at the unending line of walkers, pushing or carrying their bikes. From my experience the previous year, I was (somewhat) prepared. I had two straps that could be buckled around the head tube and the seat tube, so that I could carry the bike like a backpack. Last year taught me that pushing your bike on the sides still gathered mud and grass on your tires, so the best bet was to get the bike off the ground. I am not particularly strong, so carrying the bike by the frame was out of question. Last year, I used a luggage strap, which worked okay, but was not 100% satisfying. The backpack straps worked much better, but I figured out that I should have tested this out prior to the race, as one strap was longer than the other, so pulled on one side. Nevertheless, this allowed me to walk down the center of the road instead of along the sides, periodically stopping at various rocks to try to stomp the mud galoshes that were encasing my feet. According to my bike computer, this lasted about 2.75 miles and took 1.1 hours. Because I was able to keep my bike off the ground, I was able to hop on and get riding pretty quickly once we hit the end of this section.
The roads to the Tower hill water stop (mile 41) were clear and beautiful. We were permitted to ride through a rancher’s property getting to see some beautiful vistas. I tried to take some pictures, but cameras are not great at capturing that kind of perspective. At the stop, I changed my socks and refilled my Camelbak. I felt like I had been doing a good job of drinking enough, but the reservoir should have been dry… it was not. I stretched a little and left within ten minutes.
I continued to enjoy the scenery, chatting with anyone who passed me or I passed until about 55 miles, when the wind picked up as the temperature increased. The chatter got quieter as the riders kept their heads down in the wind. I was very excited to get to the first SAG stop in Eureka (mile 79). My support was provided by Ordinary Epics. This was my first time hiring support instead of having my own crew person. They were excellent. They cleaned my bike, refilled my bottles, and helped me switch my gear. Given that I was not racing, I wasn’t rushing, but also my average speed was around 11 mph, so I didn’t want to dawdle either.
I headed out of Eureka with Amani, who was also being supported by Ordinary Epics. We continued to pass each other back and forth through the rest of the race and it was fun to feel like I had a teammate out there. Despite the rising heat (93 degrees according to Garmin), I was feeling better and had starting chatting with people again.
Within a few miles of leaving the checkpoint, I noticed that I kept passing and being passed by another woman in a kit that said Boulder Masters Cycling on it. On one of the passes, I slowed down and said hi and we started chatting. Her name was Marieke (which she explained sounds like paprika) and she lived in Boulder. We continued to ride together at a very compatible pace and it was nice to settle in with her, Amani and a couple other people who had sorted out that this was their pace. It was warm, but pleasant, and I felt like we were picking up our pace and regaining some of the time we lost in the mud pit (so the Emporia gods decided it was time to shake things up).
We came down a steep and rocky decent. At the bottom were two cyclists, one of whom had left his bicycle in one half of the road. As I slowed to pass it, I could see he was clearly not okay and the other cyclist was trying to help him. Both Marieke and I stopped to check on them. The older cyclist had just crashed on the decent and there was clearly blood on his elbow, his helmet was dented, and he was hyperventilating. We both quickly agreed that this was clearly in the realm of medical professional and called 911. When I pulled his bike to the side, it was clear by the odd angle of his handlebars that it was not ridable, and closer inspection of the odd angle of his shoulder confirmed that his race was over. The emergency dispatcher wanted us to stay on the phone with her until they arrived, but given that the cyclist was coherent and his breathing had returned to normal, she was content with staying on the phone with him and let us go. (I did contact him after the race and he made it to the hospital with a broken collarbone and some regrets about the race, but was happy that he would ride another day.)
We hopped back on our bikes and headed off again into the heat. I was doing a better job of drinking, but worrying this might be a repeat of the heat of 2021. The Emporia gods heard my worry. Within five miles, the heavens opened up and we were being pelted with hard raindrops, possibly with some hail and the temperature dropped about 25 or so degrees. We stopped so Marieke could put on a coat and started back again. It rained long enough for us both to be totally soaked, and as we started climbing back to Hamilton, there was a fair amount of lightning, which was beautiful, but unsettling. We arrived at the second water stop (mile 124) to chaos. Bicycles were everywhere and cyclists were milling about in wet gear. We heard a rumor of hotdogs, which sounded like the most delicious thing ever at that point, and fresh off the grill, they were perfect. Having eaten and filled our bottles, we started paying attention to what was happening around us. People were boarding vans and trucks, abandoning the race in huge numbers. The rumor was that there were two more long muddy hike-a-bike sections.
Neither Marieke nor I were ready to throw in the towel. We both agreed that as long as we were fine and as long as our bikes worked, we would keep going. This was my epiphany moment. This wasn’t some trial that we were going through. This was an adventure! We were dodging lightning and dogs and cows, navigating difficult roads, keeping ourselves warm in the rain, and fixing our equipment on the side of the road. We weren’t slogging off into some dark tunnel, but instead we were leaping into the unknown. We chose to be here and we were going to make the absolute best of it. This was going to be fun.
I truly have never had a moment like this where my viewpoint of the situation turned on a dime. Our conditions were exactly the same: cold, wet, dark, and muddy. But how I approached it was completely different than it had been just moments before. I knew in that instant that we would succeed and have a good time doing so.
We talked a little bit about it when we left, whether we would chose to stay together the rest of the race. I had decided that we were having so much fun, that only a race-ending mechanical would stop us from riding in together. Marieke seemed to feel the same. On the way out of town, we met up with a rider from the 350 XL who seemed to have the same feeling we did. He’d had a rough time, but was cheerful and excited to be heading back toward Emporia.
We rode on in anticipation of the upcoming mud section. As we passed riders heading back to Hamilton, I started worrying that our enthusiasm for adventure might be overdone. As it turned out, the roads were still wet enough that the mud was not sticking to the tires. Marieke unerring picked her way down the best line, with me on her wheel getting covered in splatters. We rode by a few people walking their bikes on the grass, but neither of our bikes seemed to be picking up any mud. The section of matted down grass went on for a long time, indicating that people had been pushing their bikes earlier. As we completed that section, we both quietly breathed a sigh of relief, although I think neither of us was willing to comment and bring fate down on our wheels.
With the expected mud section behind us, we climbed back up Tower hill and got to watch the sun setting from the top. We had a fun and fast, beautiful descent into a herd of cows who were as surprised as we were. Luckily, they were not startled and ambled off the road. The next climb was Judge hill, which I had failed to navigate the year before. I was ready for vengeance and was able to make it to the top and take some pictures before we set off again.
The next obstacle we faced was the fast approaching dark. I had a small front light on my bike just in case I didn’t make it to the next checkpoint, but I had failed to anticipate that my dark sunglasses were not very useful at night. I have a slight correction in them. I can ride during the day without correction, but in the dark, on unknown gravel roads, it was going to be touch and go. I told Marieke that I would have to slow down on down hills to make sure I didn’t miss anything. One thing I hadn’t expected was that the darkness would attract other cyclists like moths. There were quite a few folks who had planned on making it to the second checkpoint before dark and they needed the assistance of those who had lights. We were only in the dark for 20 minutes or so before the checkpoint, but we were a fairly big group at that point. Everything was fine until we turned onto some rough farm road around mile 163. I remembered with horror how rocky and uneven the road was and how I almost popped a tire on the creek crossing the year before. There were a few spots where I thought I would go down. I don’t know how the folks without lights were able to manage it. We were both thankful to reach the second checkpoint without having to get off our bikes.
We agreed to meet at the exit and headed off to our respective crew spots. I was thankful to see Jason and Wendi. Jason grabbed my bike to get it washed and Wendi pulled my bag and started helping me get ready for the evening. Marieke and I both decided it would be best to keep on the same clothes, so we would not look all fresh and clean at the finish (as I would soon learn, this would not be a problem). I lubed my bike and put on the lights on headed to the exit to meet Marieke. After a couple minutes, it crossed my mind that I should have gotten her phone number to make sure we didn’t miss each other, but as she rode up, I clipped in without comment and we rode back into the darkness (as I would soon learn, this would be a problem).
With lights and proper corrective glasses, we were able to clip along at a decent speed. We felt refreshed from the stop and made it nearly seven miles before we ran into the next mud patch. Hopeful from our last experience, we rode about a quarter mile into the mud. It was still fairly wet, so it was slippery and our bikes slid all over the road. We reach the top of a climb and clipped out. I wasn’t about to attempt the descent in these conditions. Resigned, I pulled out my straps and began carrying the bike. After about a half mile, I was too tired to carry it and moved to the side to push it along the grass. Another quarter mile and the road seemed to dry out a bit. We scraped the mud off our tires and hopped back on. We made it another mile or so and Marieke’s derailleur wasn’t shifting correctly. At this point, we only had thirty miles to go. I had a full Camelbak and two full water bottles, so we sacrificed some water to clean out the drivetrain. After a few minutes of work, we were back on the road.
On climbs, I would outpace Marieke and on descents, she would pull away from me. This worked fine and I decided on the next rather long climb, I would stop to pee while I was waiting. I had leaned my bike against a table at the corner assuming she would see it and stop. I hid in the tall grass (please no ticks). I could see people go by and saw a decent size group, but did not see her fairly bright orange jacket (I believe we have already established that I do not have perfect vision). I came back out to wait. I could see a few lights coming up the hill and I kept assuming that the next one was her. I couldn’t call her because we hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. Oops.
I ask one guy if he’d seen a woman stopped on the road, but he couldn’t even say if he’d seen anyone on the road. I asked the next guy and he said I was the first women he’d seen in miles. He kept going but said that he’d tell her that I was waiting if he saw her. At that point, I decided she had to have gone by and I missed her. I pull out, very sad that I had, but felt that we were close enough that we would make it to the end even if we weren’t together. Nevertheless, I was extremely happy when I saw a bike light coming my way. The guy had caught up with her and told her I was waiting for her and she had come back to get me.
This turned out to be very fortunate for me, although probably less so for her. I had eaten some potatoes while I was waiting for her and they were not sitting in my stomach very well. Marieke had clearly gotten a second wind and pulled us along a quite a fast clip. Even though we were only about 15 miles out, I just couldn’t go at that speed. My back was killing me and I was getting queasier by the second. She very kindly slowed and was willing to take it much easier than she needed to go for my sake. Like last year, the last ten miles were torturous, but it was so fun to see the spotlights and roll into Emporia. It is definitely less of a spectacle at 1:45 am than prior to midnight. Our cheerleaders were mostly drunk guys who’d decided that encouraging cyclists was more fun than going to bed. Most of the volunteers were gone, but Marieke’s sister was there to take our picture and congratulate us. A quick hug and congratulations to us and off we went to our respective cars. I drove back to the house and didn’t even take my gear out of the car. I hosed myself off outside, took a quick shower and dropped into bed, exhausted but satisfied with my effort.
I was so thankful that I was able to find a friend on course who made the whole journey a delight. I have read some posts complaining that the race directors should have rerouted the race around the mud sections and made the race easier. I disagree with this assessment. This trial by fire gave me a new friend. We bonded through shared suffering and accomplished a great thing together. 45% of the people who started this race did not finish, not just because of mechanicals or injury, but for many because they didn’t want to do it anymore. I feel for the folks who have unfixable mechanicals and definitely for anyone who is injured. And I understand people who don’t want to do it anymore, I have made that choice in a race before as well. But this is Unbound Gravel, one of the hardest gravel events in the world. Making it easier would change the character of the race. No one is being forced to do this race and no one is forced to continue if they are done. I learned that this race is a grand adventure, come what may, not a crucible. It is a lesson I hope to carry with me into the future whatever I face. We all live our own grand adventure – face it with hope and joy and you will cross the finish line with satisfaction you didn’t know was possible.
Thank you to Wendi and Jason at Ordinary Epics not only for providing fantastic crew support, but also for creating an atmosphere of excitement and anticipation prior to the race. Thank you also to Merchant Cycles who replaced my failing front derailleur on the Friday before the race. The old one never would have withstood those conditions. Thank you to my friends from Gainesville who suffered through my endless complaints about my back and lack of training. Thank you to Lifetime and Emporia for providing an extraordinary experience and opportunity to race in such a beautiful place. Thank you to Dana and Michael for being wonderful housemates. Thank you to Steve for following my progress throughout the day and updating me on how things were going for my friends on the course. And thank you to Marieke for riding 105+ miles with me and maintaining a smile the whole way.
I loved reading every word of this. Following people on social and seeing them drop and grouse and vow to never again, your spirit is choice. Awesome effort!
Thanks, I almost signed up, clearly this is not a race for me ;)