by Shawn McKinney

Unbound ’24 Race Report

Arrived at the starting line 615a and took my place at the back of the pack. Snapped a few shots. Didn’t realize until later, caught Tim Hornik and his tandem partner. I saw them again Sunday morning on the podium in the men’s para category. Tim was wounded in action 20 years ago and lost all sight in one eye and most in the other. An avid cyclist, he’s been doing this event for many years. Surely this must be a good omen.

Also on hand was my brother Kelly who’s doing the 50 and cousin Gregg.

The Three Sanchos we called ourselves in ’16 (when this shot was taken) during our first attempt of the 200 mile course. This place tends to get in the blood.

As the national anthem played, LeAnne Rimes’ beautiful voice ringing, I contemplated gratitude. My wife, kids, brothers, sisters, parents, friends and employer all played a part. My LBS, Arkansas Cycling and Fitness. Training partners. The event organizers. They did an awesome job putting this on. The volunteers. A very long list. Some say getting to the starting line is harder than a finish. So many people helped get me to this one. I had to acknowledge that before letting go…

A few moments later we’re off. Cheering and cowbells. The air was crisp. The sun didn’t want to come out and play. I was OK with that.

A rider went down hard before we made it out of the block. Oof. Can’t unsee that and feel bad for them. Nothing can be done about it. It’s time to GO.

Not much different from the other 6 times. A ton of energy. Folks lining the street. We’re headed North this year. No train to block this exit.

The mood upbeat if not confident. A 3rd try for a fifth finish tends to make one wary. I’ve experienced the highs and lows of this event many times. An upbeat start is no harbinger of success. The cynical side wants to take over and has to be tamped down.

Despite these mixed feelings there was no dread which is a good sign. A decent nights sleep Friday for once. Training and prep were well executed. Legs feel good and promise in the air.

Caught up with fellow Arkansans Jed and David. Met Jed on the course back in ’17 and David not long afterwards.

We used to call ourselves the Arkansas Three. Back when we thought 5 finishes were in the bag. That was then and this is now.

Jed had some troubles and was derailed for a couple of years. David has been battling a serious heart condition. We’re crusty veterans of this race and hold no illusion. Finishes don’t come easy.

The going was good those first 40. We worked together and kept pace. I reconned the middle 75 (Eskridge to Alta Vista) earlier in the week and knew what we were fixing to get into.

Just outside of Eskridge (mile 40) is when the fun starts. Divide road.

Non-trivial. I crawled thru this section working my way around the other riders. Rocky, loose, rutted and punchy. Choose your line carefully. Sharp rocks jut up everywhere.

I got in front of David and Jed ahead of me. Keep the mind in the present. Don’t get in a hurry. We can make up time later. Have fun. Why we’re out here. Before we know it, we’re dropping down into a beautiful valley town called Alma (mile 71).

Gregg was waiting and quickly did the needful to get me going again. Caught up with David on my way out of town who was resting with his wife and daughters.

The next section (Alma to Volland) has nice rollers but its minimal maintenance roads (MMR) are tame in comparison to the previous section. It was here I bumped into Andy Phillips earlier in the week when doing recon. He was out on Bobby Thompson’s Flint Hills Ultra, a 1050 mile bikepacking time trial.

Nothing new for Andy. A veteran of all sorts of these kinds of events. Member of the Unbound 1000 mile club. Finisher of Cannonball and Long Voyage (3 times). Takes off from his home in Topeka on a single speed. Rides however many miles to the town hosting the event and then back home again.

When the sun started to peek out of the clouds David slowed and reminded me that I had to ride my ride. I wasn’t happy about leaving him behind but he was right.

As the air continued to warm, my legs started to cramp. I managed by altering cadence and getting in and out of the saddle. I learned the simple act of counting (in the head) with each breath staved them off. No idea why other than getting the mind to refocus.

Little Egypt road (mile 104) is where my troubles usually started (when on the North course). Had no difficulty on this day. The road itself was in much better shape than years past. Many riders had to walk these hills. I stayed in the saddle.

I knew in advance that if in decent shape by the second water oasis, Alta Vista (mile 112), my chances for a finish were good. In previous years (19, 21) only bad things happened here. Not on this ride. I stopped and the volunteers poured cold water over my head and legs. AHHHHH it felt SO GOOD!! If you’re reading this THANKS!! Y’ALL ARE AWESOME!!

Spirits were soaring as I rode out of town and really from that point on. Yes, it was still warm. Yes, I was riding solo. Yes, there are more miles, hills and chunky sections remaining. None of that seemed to matter. My pace continued to pick up and passed many more riders.

The plan was to meet Kelly and Gregg at CP2, Council Grove (mile 150) around 8p. There I would change into a fresh kit, sit and have a meal. Relax for a spell. Was looking forward to an iced Infinit Cold Brew. Maybe a cookie. But THAT was a Breakfast Club strategy and I was on a Midnight Club pace.

My phone got disconnected from the network and messages weren’t received meaning they didn’t get to the checkpoint in time. No matter. I had paid support (Crew For Hire). I arrived at 630p. A dropbag was waiting with the essentials.

A new plan was being drafted on the fly to get into the Midnight Club. The support crew refilled my bottles as I rebooted the phone and called my brother. They were 18 miles from the checkpoint and I asked them to turn around and meet me at the finish line.

The last 50 were a thing of beauty.

Crossed the line at 1045p.

This gets entry into both the Midnight and 1000 mile clubs. Was a wee wobbly once the adrenaline left. What now? Neil Taylor (Minister of Gravel) guided me out of the corral and made sure I received a medal, patch and glass. Items that go to every finisher. Thanks Neil!!!

When I found Gregg and Kelly and was sprayed with champagne (as if I’d won the race). Having eaten very little solid food, I was famished and a feast was waiting. Settled on smothered steak and gravy from IHOP. It maybe doesn’t sound good to you and never would’ve ordered it myself, but it was EXACTLY what was needed.

Also talked with Kelly Wenz who almost beat the sun. Waited around but missed Jed’s finish not long afterwards.

When I snapped a shot of Nick Gilroy who rode a Walmart single speed beach cruiser with his buddies. I saw them out around Little Egypt and couldn’t believe it. What in the …?

Cool dude. He had us cracking up. Why’d you do that? Something about losing a bet.

My brother then drove me back to the hotel where a hot shower and more food were waiting. Began to anxiously check the results for David and Bill Jeffery who was out doing the XL. I’d heard from a friend earlier that David made it to CP2 and was headed for Emporia. I texted and told him we’d be at the finish line. Was driving there when he texted back that he was pulled from the course. Still don’t know why but having breakfast with him and Jed this weekend and will get the story then.

Sunday was a day of celebration. Always one to attend the Unbound closing ceremony, this day Jed and I were up there as well.

by Shawn McKinney

Top 10 Reasons Cyclists ❤️ Motorists

  1. Useful when getting to events, support, hauling gear, etc.
  2. Not all bad. Especially when parked.
  3. Close passes (buzzing) keeps the mind sharp.
  4. No mini-marts without cars.
  5. The ones with bike carriers are nice.
  6. Loads of useful advice like when to stop, where to go, what to do with ourselves.
  7. Sometimes they’ll even honk to let us know how much they care.
  8. Deep down they love us too and would miss us if we were gone.
  9. Their taxes subsidize our roads.
  10. We all have to do it sometimes.

Obviously, it’s satire. In truth, most of us are motorists too. At least here in the states there’s literally no other way. I write this to find humor which counteracts hate.

by Shawn McKinney

The Long Voyage Pt. III

It fell over with a sickening thud. I was standing in the shade beside the corral. Had just arrived onsite. It was 4:45 pm. Immediately, a pair of friendly hands were there to help. Carmen and John (Lincoln, NE). Grew up downriver, just across the border, in Missouri. Went to Northwest Missouri State University (Go Bearcats!)

Met them at the route meeting two nights before. John lifted the bike and Carmen took my things as I quickly (and nervously) ran thru a check to make sure nothing was damaged. Minor adjustments had to be made. The seat had been knocked out of alignment. It had fallen on the right side. Was concerned the derailleur had bent again (repeat of 2 years ago). All was fine and we exchanged contact info this time.

Also on hand were Michelle and Kelly of Wichita. We had met at last year’s Gravel Worlds. Kelly and I teamed up the last half of the 150. How it goes when out there. Friendships are formed fast, out of necessity. Nowhere to hide. Kelly ran the 50K earlier in the day and would line up for the 150 in the morning. Michelle the 75 miler.

Carmen and John did the 50K gravel course on Saturday. They are still relatively new to the scene but early indications are they’re doing great. Everyone finished btw, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

It was time so I took my usual place at the back of the pack. Was good to see Andy (from Topeka) in the lineup. We’d met a couple of years before, after my first attempt at Long Voyage. He finished and I didn’t. That’s another story.

Don’t remember much more about those last few moments. Dan Hughes (Lawrence, KS) snapping photos and offering encouragement. Also exchanged a few words with Matt Gersib. Pirate, local legend and all around cool dude. He completed a Long Voyage back in ’21 and is onhand this year as a promoter of the event.

The temps were as expected, somewhere north of 90. It was also muggy although not unusually.

And we’re off. Neutral start, rolling the first couple miles on pavement before hitting gravel. I rode the first 15 miles as a shakeout the day before and was getting my “sea legs” back. It felt good but had no illusions. A lot of things had to go right and only one thing wrong. Had done the math. Knew my chances of making it thru the first night were good and on into the early afternoon of the next day. Wasn’t sure about what would happen after that. Getting into uncharted territory.

Caught up with Andy at the first stop (Weeping Willow mile 46) around 9pm. He’s on a single speed (as usual) and goes at a different pace. It wasn’t long before he got out ahead of me. I was creeping along in the darkness. Applying brakes on the descents. One careless moment, a bit of loose gravel and the ride would be over. Wasn’t quite ready to let ‘er rip.

It was many miles before I talked to another soul. Occasionally, a blinky light way off in the distance. I remained on course.

Had a funny encounter with a voice somewhere in the darkness. Was it just in my head? Just before crossing the toll bridge over the Missouri river into Iowa. “What’s your ETA back in Lincoln?”, it asked. “Late”, was my one word reply. There was something else, uttered unintelligibly, couldn’t quite make it out.

No matter. There was work to be done. Iowa can be a lonely place. It greeted us with loose and chunky gravel. Makes the going tough as you slip and slide along. Have to maintain momentum which requires more power. “This gravel is a friend”, was the mantra. Trust it don’t fight it. Let it go where it wants.

Lightning flashed to the south and west as eastern Nebraska got pelted by a front. Friend or foe? Too early to know.

After the first century was a stop at Jason Strohbehn’s childhood home, in Treynor, Iowa (mile 109), around 3am. Jason’s another organizer of Gravel Worlds.

My brother Kelly and I wandered into Lincoln five summers earlier. Looking for adventure. We got what we bargained for. The hospitality is what keeps us coming back. The heat is optional. Call it a bonus. A test of will. One of the best events in Gravel. A real sufferfest. Endless miles of twisty, hilly, sandy, chunky, gravel goodness. If you can ride these hills you can ride any.

I met Jason’s father Thursday evening, walking around the venue when surveying the starting line. A friendly guy. Like father, like son. They grow good humans in Iowa.

That stop was run by Jamie, who I had met at the course meeting Wednesday. He assured me then that he wasn’t leaving until the last rider passed thru. Gave us expert help, weather reports, advice, encouragement. There was also cold water, gatorade, cokes, ice, pizza. He’s married to Kristie Tracey, pro athlete. Last year she was struck by a car while training. Suffered devastating injuries including severe head trauma and compound fractures to bones in her leg. She’s battling back having successfully finished this year’s Long Voyage (way before me).

I met Kristie back in ’21 at the first Long Voyage stop. She had just pulled the plug due to a mechanical. What struck me at the time was her positivity. Took it in stride.

There were others at Treynor. It was perhaps a little too cozy. Didn’t want to leave. Some discussions over the storm and its bearing. I put on a rain jacket. Stowed spare batteries in ziplocks. A once over on the bike. Wet lubed the drivetrain. “Head north as fast as you can, might just miss it”, Jamie’s calm words of advice rang in my ears as I departed.

Not long afterward the rain came. I allowed a moment of self pity before checking it. This front is what’s going to get me across the finish line. It should draw much of the heat out of the atmosphere.

When I was overtaken by emotion. All of the things to be grateful for. A long list. I didn’t understand what was happening but realized something was guiding and powering me effortless thru the darkness. Truly a transcendent moment.

I really enjoy riding at night. It’s much cooler in the summer of course. It also brings back something of the child in me. Back when we would sneak out from backyard campouts. Meet other kids. Our parents of course were unaware. Long before technology, cell phones, trackers and surveillance. We’d wander the neighborhood. Chasing and running from dogs. Communion with the nocturnal animals. Wonderful memories brought back after having been long forgotten.

Soon it would be sunrise. A blessing and curse. Certainly, it’s inspiring as the surrounding countryside lights in amazing detail. Those hills we’re laboring over offer beautiful visas. It’s also when the adrenaline stops and fatigue sets in.

Next stop was Missouri Valley (mile 151). Refueled at a McDonald’s off the Interstate. It was 8 am and about half full. A few other riders were there. We smelled bad and probably looked like hell.

Once they knew what we were up to their suspicion turned into curiosity. “Are you the leaders?”, one youngster asked. “Naw, we’re pretty much last place”, Andy flatly replied.

And Then There Were Four
Nothing was said. We just ended up riding together the next 100 miles. The morning air provided a slight chill. Enough to consider putting my jacket back on. I decided not knowing the forecast called for temps to be in the 80’s. Nothing like the blistering triple digits a couple of days ago.

I pushed back thoughts of finishing. Keep the mind in the present. The next 50 miles were hilly. One wrong line away from a bad outcome.

Knew I was in the company of greatness but had no idea it was Johnny Gravel. A 68 year old veteran of these kinds of events. He was accompanied by Greg. At 62, no spring chicken either. He had completed a Long Voyage last year. The rains and mud had slowed him down and he missed the cutoff by a couple of minutes. They gave him a finish anyway (well of course the Pirates would) but there was unfinished business.

They hail from the Twin Cities. Greg had talked Johnny Gravel into it. Rounding out our group was Andy. Who as I said had completed Long Voyage in ’21 and last year.

l to r, Greg, Johnny, Andy

About when the temps started hiking up. It was probably in the low 80’s but as the sun bears down the road temps feel about 10 degrees warmer. By this time we were helped and cooled by the north wind that had just a touch of west in it.

Having fallen behind during the night, riding hills and unfavorable winds in Iowa, had to make good time in order to hit the cutoff. We worked together. Johnny was keeping an eye on it. At one point he announced our average went over 10mph. Now well into the third century, thoughts of a finish were allowed to creep in.

Mile 245 was a stop in Valparaiso. We had just lost site of Andy. I knew there was the checkpoint at mile 261 but this late in the day supplies can get low. We refueled and soon were off again.

Just before the checkpoint my electronic shifter malfunctioned. “Y’all go ahead. I’ll catch up”, I told them. Knew it was:

  1. Derailleur battery dead
  2. Shifter batteries dead
  3. Other

Hoping it was #1. Had spares for the shifters too, but they’re a pain to replace. If it was #3, I’d be calling Don at Triple D City Car Service, Lincoln, NE. We agreed to a modest fee up front and he’d fish me out of whatever hole I fell into (on the course) if need be.

Don kept an eye on the tracker and texted messages of encouragement. Cool dude. If you’re ever in the Lincoln metro area, need a ride or SAG for an event, Don gets a strong endorsement.

It ended up being the derailleur battery and was replaced in a couple of minutes. Now caught up with Greg and Johnny again we could only speculate how far ahead of us Andy had gone.

Checkpoint

Mile 261 anxiety was building. We had fallen behind again due to the stops and now were back in the bubble. Darkness was setting in but had one more trick up my sleeve. A packet of Infinit Cold Brew snagged from the swag table during check-in on Thursday. Had been saving it for just this moment.

Loaded that into one of the bottles, mixed in some ice when Greg asked if I was ready to roll.

The last 40

Early on, Johnny and Greg were on my tail. Lost them over the next hill as I entered “The Zone”. Fatigue and pain were forgotten. The dim twilight illuminated the lines into a sharp focus. Concentration was absolute. After nightfall my eyes adjusted to the headlights and continued to bomb the downhills.

Holding the line can be difficult, especially at night. It was never in doubt. Again, that presence guided and protected as thoughts of my parents set in. We lost my father in 2015. My brothers and sisters all helped take care of him. We lost my mother during lockdown. She was in an assisted living center. We weren’t allowed in to see her until the very end. Huge regret over that period.

Felt like they were saying it was OK.

Caught up with Andy a few miles outside of Lincoln. My hearty greeting must’ve startled him. At the finish line my friends were there to help even though surely they were tired from the day’s events. It hadn’t been easy for the others. The storm from the previous night saturated the course with rain making it a muddy mess. Then the wait as Johnny and Greg finished Dead Fucking Last (DFL).

Could not have scripted it better. Luck, planning or divine intervention? Probably a little of one and a lot of the others.

Experiencing life changing perspectives. Doing what seemed impossible. Amends with the past. Makes the pain worthwhile.

This Long Voyage is over. The next begins.

by Shawn McKinney

Why are you here?

We must all be looking for something.

There should be no surprises as the queue snakes its way alongside both ditches. We were warned.

Trudging, stopping, starting, barbed wire gnashes our bodies. Over the mud is the only way out.

Don’t do it! You can’t ride this road. No skipping this queue. It’s not a freeway. Everyone has a turn.

How it goes when riding in the prairie. Keep walking like everyone else. It’ll pass. Don’t know when.

Over that next corner or hilltop will be a respite.

Or not. Truckers will honk in solidarity. They understand. They’re with us. If only a moment. Are we losing control? Where is the line and have we crossed?

Forget it. The mud has released us. We’re done walking. Scrape off and get on with it.

It must be 20, 30 miles later when the sun gets to play its part. Why are you out here it also seems to be asking. Don’t you know what I can do to you?

Don’t listen. It’s no friend. Get ahold of yourself. The oasis is not that far and we can fill up. Not in spirit. Yeah, there’s upbeat music, but this is no party. Keep going.

Eureka’s 40 miles and motors will bog in the heat. Where is that threshold? There it is down deep. An angry stir. Better back off just a bit.

We won’t make it in time and might as well quit? Are we only here for the finish?

Fuck that shit. It’s more than that. Keep pouring down the salt and sugar. Hold steady and don’t lose focus. No one knows what lies ahead.

Grind up and back down. Over, over and over again. Those river bottoms are whispering us to stop. Don’t fall for their lies. We can’t stop. Not here and not now.

The thirst. Maybe they’ll come with the cold water again. Like last time we were here. Remember how cold it was? How good it tasted? Where are they?

In that quiet, peaceful little town they are waving and shouting. Did we do something wrong? Are we seconds under the cutoff?

That means we’re still in this. But we can’t rest there’s more work to be done. Get moving even though all we really want to do is stay.

A storm can energize or drain what power remains. It’s a choice. Get back what the sun took. Complete the cycle.

Why are you calling? They can’t get to us. I hope you find a way back home. We have to go. Our power has returned. Why would we stay wet, cold and huddling?

It feels much better and hope returns along with its seductive promises. We’ve earned one more chance to find out why we came.

And the Flint Hills will always reveal her beauty to those willing to endure the pain. She plays hard to get. Punishes in order to cleanse. Where it can be washed by the rain.

Now that we’re climbing again we must be careful. Over the wet, rocky slopes and let er rip across the open spaces in between. Hold that line and go faster.

After the rains fickle winds get to change direction. Pushing gently against us. Perhaps the hills and the wind are working together. They won’t let us leave until we know why we came.

Another oasis bodies lay spent and contorted. Expressions range from grim to defeated. There’s the timing strip. Who’s going to stop us now?

Not the Hills.

Sorry about that derailleur dude. It was a hell of a good try. You really showed us something today. Maybe that is why you were here.

No bloke, I don’t carry an iPhone charger. I’d give you one if I could. Here’s a phone to call support. The number is on dead phone? You could have prepared better. Maybe that’s why you were here.

You wouldn’t quit after missing a cutoff 50 miles back old man. Stopping to encourage stragglers. Maybe that’s why you’re here.

A fifth finish not this day my friend. You gave it a good fight. So you’ll help your buddies get into the club. Isn’t that why you’re here?

No, I don’t think we should ride ma’am. We’re in the mud again. Yes, I’d rather ride too. No lights yet there you calmly go. That must be why you’re here.

…

It doesn’t hurt anymore. The fear is gone leaving only peace. We must be close to finding the answer.

As darkness envelops the coyotes and moon compete for attention. The cool air draws moisture from earth and sky covering us in a cold embrace. It will be over soon and then we will know why we came.

photos courtesy of Aaron Davis

by Shawn McKinney

Gravel Cycling Hall of Fame Class of ’23

It’s 1 am Thursday prior to the start of Unbound. Exactly 53 hours before we have to line up. It has been a good week so far. Arrived Monday and have had a couple of days to get settled in. Today was pretty awesome. Started the day riding in the Hall of Fame shakeout ride. It was supposed to meet a group coming in from an overnight stay at a campground, in Pomona, KS. They got rained out and had to motor to town. We just left as one big group and spun around the outskirts of Emporia, KS for an hour or so.

I enjoyed catching up with Mark Stevenson, a.k.a. Guitar Ted, who as an inductee of the inaugural class (last year) attended the banquet to lend support for the incoming class. Mark is about as laid back as they come and really represents the grass roots segment of the cycling community, that has taken to the mixed surface roadways, i.e. gravel. Maybe you’ve read his blog, now over 20 years in print, or more recently, a podcast where he teams up with N. Y. Roll.

Later, I overheard Alison Tetrick telling Jason Strohbehm, about breaking a foot last weekend and can’t get around without a walking boot. Jason, is one of the Pirates up in Lincoln, NE. They host Gravel Worlds each August and more recent events like Winter Endurance (February). He also sits on the Board of Directors of the Gravel Cycling Hall of Fame, and gave the introduction at tonight’s banquet.

When I asked Alison why in the hell she’s riding a bike (instead of healing) it started what turned into about a 30 minute conversation. By that time, as is not unusual between two people meeting for the first time on a bike, it felt like we’d known each other for years.

She was one of tonight’s four inductees, along with the late Joel Dyke, Miguel Crawford and just Yuri (according to Dan Hughes his last name “Hauswald” is superfluous). In her acceptance speech was discussion about the challenges that women athletes face, along with battles with injuries, anxiety, depression and society’s expectations. Alison doesn’t hold back anything and it might have been tough for some to take.

I was impressed by her honesty and courage. For someone who has won her share of races, she understands the emphasis isn’t on the result, but on showing up. That is, the hardest part of a race is getting to the starting line. Finishing is comparatively easy.

Which gets back to my predicament. Facing a sixth attempt at the 200 mile course. I finished the first four. We all missed ’20 (covid) followed by a Did Not Finish (DNF) in ’21, and a deferral last year due to health. Did Not Show (DNS).

Back in ’19 I thought a fifth finish was a given. Now, four years later, still working on it. There are no givens. The night before that DNF, was no sleep. This year, a return to that pattern. It’s ironic how we can deterministically prepare for a challenge. Getting everything in order. But, sleep is not something we have any control over. Either it comes, or it doesn’t.

We’re talking about nerves. Anxiety over showing up. Like Alison said, getting to the starting line is the hardest part.

by Shawn McKinney

How to carry the bike over muddy sections

Robb Finegan provided this tip after placing 5th at the ’21 The Long Voyage. Riders carried 3 miles after rains washed out the B-Roads on the course. An old mountain biker trick: A duffel bag strap attached to a couple zip ties can be easily stowed, makes carrying a whole lot easier.

Attach to zip ties at base of seat post

and handle bars

by Shawn McKinney

The Long Voyage Pt. II

Sometimes that trip we take ends unexpectedly. Last year’s post sets the stage.

I’ll never know for sure, if it weren’t for that bent derailleur, might’ve just finished in ’21. Other than the early rain and later muddy B-roads, weather wasn’t a factor. I flubbed the execution.

Impulsively flipped the bird driving by that same Loves truck stop yesterday on my return from Lincoln. It’s just off Nebraska Highway 2, near Syracuse. A visceral reaction. Nothing against them. It’s what happened there. The emotions are still raw, one year later.

Which may help explain why I signed up again. Made a plan and caught Covid in February. Relatively mild case. Slowed me down some. Before we get into what happened next, let’s go back still further…

In February ’06 a GI bleed continued for several days and required hospitalization. About when the doctor started discussing transfusions, it stopped. Afterwards, the diagnosis was diverticulitis. Not a particularly severe condition, managed with diet.

It could have been worse. A wake-up call. I made the necessary changes along with an increasing amount of exercise, particularly aerobic. Over the intervening period were tweaks to lifestyle. Taking the foot off the gas pedal. Achieving a work-life balance.

Back to last February, after recovering from Covid, there was bleeding again. What I’ll share, the diagnosis is Inflammatory Bowel Disease (IBD). There’s no cure. It’s managed with medication. The goal’s remission. No consensus on the cause or how to get (and stay) in remission. There are strong indications that it’s autoimmune. Meaning nobody knows for sure. We’re left with guesses and playing the odds.

Despite this lack of conclusive scientific evidence pointing to any particular cause, drastic changes were made to diet. Most of the stuff I loved to eat and drink were off limits. Moving toward plants, less meat. No problem. This part’s overdue. It can be turned positive.

What’s up for grabs is riding and was advised to stop. The doctor can’t make me, but It’d be unwise to do otherwise. It’s also tricky. It might be alright to ride like a normal person, say twenty-five miles a day. That’s not how I roll.

One of the meds tamped the symptoms. Would be great if it weren’t prednisone, which isn’t a viable long-term option. Gradually, the dosage was reduced and stopped in early July. No relapse. In remission? Was given the green light to return to normal activities.

Not in time for Unbound, the first Saturday after Memorial day. Had to defer that entry and volunteered instead. A gratifying experience and made up for the disappointment. It’s now summertime, no more riding restrictions and enough time for a credible shot at Long Voyage on August 19th.

Then the mishaps. Hit the deck twice the first couple weeks of July, about ten days apart. Cracked number six, bruises and scrapes. Thought maybe a broken tooth and another rib. Nothing serious. Healed up and resumed training. Lost another month and it’s only three weeks until the event. Should be tapering, not ramping up.

I was determined to give it a go anyway. Be a good test. What’s the worst that can happen? Probably a lot. Call it defiance or stupidity. Was talked out of it by both wife and coach. Neither thought it a good idea. I relented. On the last day to make changes at Gravel Worlds, I dropped to the 150 mile course.

Arrived at Lincoln early last Thursday. Did the shakeouts. Hung out at the venue during the day and rested at night. On Saturday the weather was gorgeous and so was the course. I completed the sandy roller coaster in thirteen hours and some change. Held steady until the end and it was pretty awesome. Made some friends and caught up with old ones. Inspired by hearing all of their stories of redemption and courage.

This story isn’t exactly that. It was a great ride and included a nice finish. Good enough for now. Redemption can wait.

by Shawn McKinney

Upgrade from javax to jakarta — not yet!

Javax-to-Jakarta Tales from the Crypt

It’s now been almost five years since Oracle announced the donation of Java’s enterprise layer to the Eclipse foundation. It stipulated a name change, removing “Java”, ostensibly due to trademark issues. Eclipse chose “Jakarta” as the new name.

As Java programmers, we understand organizational boundaries of dependent modules are enforced via package names. How we reference them in our code.

For many years now we’ve had this durable base of auxiliary software coming from the platform and the 3rd parties that comprise its ecosystem. It’s free and shields us from the intricacies and accelerates development. Makes our job easier. The reason I continue to use Java.

The programming language itself factors into why we choose to use it too. Java ranks at or near the top, in my estimation. We’re not discussing theory or practice here and I’m not trying to convince you the platform’s viable.

Back to the main point. There’s a cost associated with using free software, despite the language in which it was written. Sometimes it changes. Always for reasons outside of our control. That means we must change our code to accommodate. The Jakarta migration requires that millions (billions?) of lines-of-code be changed. We’re talking about the biggest disruption to the Java ecosystem in its 27 years.

Not a rant-post and we’re not going over tactics here. That has all been covered elsewhere. I will point out that converting the code is simple. Just change the package imports and pull in the newer versions of the libs into whatever dependency mechanism is being used.

If you can find all of them. As of today, many affected suppliers have published Jakarta compatible releases, some are still working on it, while still others have it on their roadmap.

That’s quite remarkable actually and demonstrates the robustness of the ecosystem. It’ll handle it — eventually.

The runtime’s ready, with a logjam in the projects upstream. Until all of the projects we use have published their compatible packages, we can’t migrate. In turn projects dependent on us must wait until we publish our conversion, and so on. We can replace our non-compliant libraries (a ton of work) or wait.

What’s hanging in the balance is which Servlet container runs and which version of the JVM will be in use. Older code can’t run in newer containers and vice versa. There are ways to sidestep the compatibility restrictions. Conversion routines that modify the packaged bytecode so it works with the jakarta namespace. Can you say shim? For me, I’ll wait just a bit longer. Hope it doesn’t take too long.

Update

April 24, 2023

Many of the suppliers are getting their migrated packages released. For example, Spring 6, Apache CXF 4 and Tomcat 10. Yesterday, I was able to run tests inside of Apache Fortress Rest runtime using them. Soon, Apache Fortress will be able to release its packages supporting jakarta. The logjam is finally starting to break up!

by Shawn McKinney

These Lessons Anecdotal (Ode to Stack Overflow)

Sung to the tune of “Message In A Bottle” by The Police

Just a question say, I’m completely in the trees, so
Another bug in the way, so c’mon help me please, oh
More erroneous than any scan can take
Rescue me before I lose my hair, oh


I’ll dump questions on the world
I’ll send dumb questions to the world
I hope that someone sees mine
I hope that someone knows mine
I hope that someone answers mine
Your guess is anecdotal, yeah
And these guesses cause me trouble, yeah


A week has gone since I wrote my post
I should have known this right from the start
Only hope can keep me together
Just a little luck and then we can release
No luck at all means we’re fucked


I’ll dump questions on the world
I’ll send dumb questions to the world
I hope that someone gets mine
I hope that someone knows mine
I hope that someone answers mine


Your guess is anecdotal, yeah
And these guesses cause me trouble, yeah
So, don’t be guessing on my post, no


Googled again this morning, can’t believe what I saw
Hundred billion questions popped into my chrome
Seems I’m not the only one that’s confused
Hundred billion other people, still searching for a clue