The hardest part is the training. The race itself is pure adventure. Since I was already ramped up after last month’s Long Voyage … why not again? It wasn’t on my original plan but, fit perfectly. Opportunities don’t come along every day.
Why another trip to Kansas? If you restrict the conversation to unpaved, it’s some of the best riding around. Show me a state or region with more unpaved roads (and I’m going there). A bunch of friends are doing it, it’s fun, let’s go.
This one’s called the Pony Express Gravel Dash. Held in Marysville, Kansas. One of the stops for riders in the 1860’s. The town (and region) has maintained a connection with its past. We checked in at the Pony Express Barn & Museum.
There was a coffee house, pub and bike shop nearby. I’m signed up for the 250 mile “beer run”. We’re starting at 630p Friday. The course goes clockwise along a big oval and has over 120 turns. It looks kind of like a big pig. We take off its snout on the right side.
Friday 730a was the start of a half marathon run. Kelly, Zak and Matt were in it.
Spoiler: all 3 finished that and the 250 mile beer run (ride) that starts later in the day.
At 746a was a 9/11 memorial. A team of local emergency responders was deployed. There were words spoken over the public address. The affair was subdued and dignified. Struck the right chord with me. That we never forget what happened twenty-five years ago.
It’s also my daughter’s birthday. She was three years old when it happened. And it was my mom’s birthday too. Many things more important than riding a bike happened on this day.
Everyone was super cool and we were made to feel at home. Had breakfast at the coffee house when Jennifer Kilbourne popped in with her husband. They were also in town for the race. She finished fourth of her thirty-five mile race on Sat. Just missed a podium by a couple of minutes.
Later, had a late lunch at the all-night diner, right next to our Travelodge. Did the final preps and laid down for a nap.
As I got up the words “It’s all downhill from here”, hung in the air. It was now 545p, 45m before the start. Told Andy he wasn’t going to live that one down. He was stretched out in an armchair over in the corner of the room. His wife had dropped him off that morning and we hung out all day.
A usual suspect in these adventures. We’ve ridden together numerous times in the last few years.
The hotel room was controlled chaos. Stuff scattered, “neatly” in piles. Bikes, totes, packages, powders, lights, batteries and other gear. Food stacked on the remaining shelves. Coolers, water packs, bags of ice. It takes a couple of hours to get it all packed up and loaded again after one of these deployments.
The nap definitely helped. Touched sleep for an instant. Just enough to feel refreshed.
Soon we’re at the start, smiling like it’s a Sunday morning. Was asked for final thoughts by a man with a microphone …
“It’s all downhill from here.”, was my reply. Maybe the delivery wasn’t as convincing as Andy’s. Everyone seemed satisfied and so we went with it.
Jed and “Cabot Kelly” Spencer were there. She’s riding the 120 on Saturday morning and ended up getting first place both in this race AND the “Great Plain Gravel Cup” series. Champion in the masters class. It wasn’t even close. She won every race but two. Jed’s been a riding buddy of mine since the first leg of our second Dirty Kansas (now known as “Unbound”).
“Wichita Kelly” Wenz is here also. Another distinguished member of our little club. He ran the half marathon earlier and was also hanging out with us all day.
Courtney’s doing the sixty-five miler. She got first place in the masters class for her event. It wasn’t even close. Second place came in over an hour later.
Mark and Renee Hoffman are the co-race directors and this the thirteenth year of the event. Met them both at Unbound’s expo a couple years ago. Always wanted to come here and try it out. I know this part of the state and when I saw their passion for the experience couldn’t help but get drawn in. When I found out they were having a 250 miler this year, a beer run, that leaves in the evening and goes all night. Well, say no more. I’m in.
They are handing it off to Joy Cross-Kramer who was on the starting line of the 250 (as a competitor). She’s tough, high energy and a super cool. Undoubtedly the event’s in good hands going forward.
In addition to being the mayor of Marysville, Todd Frye’s a core member of the race committee and fellow rider. He ran a race in the next town over called “Haddam Hounds Hundy”, designed the 250 course we’re getting ready to ride and is known to have a fondness for dirt roads, i.e. Minimal Maintenance Roads (not gravel).
He promised to go “easy” on us but I remained skeptical (for good reason). We saw Todd numerous times over the next twenty-four hours as he met us at many of the stops along the way providing neutral support. We weren’t the only ones who stayed up all night.
All of this lends a special emphasis to the occasion. When the mayor is also a rider who designed the course and is himself a race promoter. You know that a lot of stops are going to be removed. It showed in the way we were supported, and the attitudes of the locals we met along the way.
And we’re off. As is my typical modus operandi, I left town in last place. There were nineteen riders in this race. I passed half a dozen or so over the first miles. Felt OK, not great despite it being a beautiful evening and a stunning rollout. Wide expansive views of the river valley as the sun was beginning its descent.
There can be an uneasy feeling toward the beginning of the ride. Not enough invested to feel good about it. A lot miles to travel. My mind was rebelling and enlisting body parts in its mutiny. For some reason it wanted no part of this.
For the first half of the course it seemed like half of the time was spent on Minimal Maintenance Roads (MMR). They’re fun but bring challenges. Not just rocks, they’re rutted and have scraggly bushy things shooting up. The roads were sandy and had layers of (what looked like) moon dust. It gets nerve-wracking slipping and sliding about. There will be close calls if not mishaps. A line turns into a rut and you better hop or stop. A wheel slides out and the bike wants to go down. We got choked on the dust flying off the wheels in front. Somewhere in here Kelly got ahead and it was just Andy, Matt and me. We mostly rode in silence. Sometimes would be a wisecrack or observation. Complaining is out of the question. Small talk can get tiresome.
Got into a discussion about aliens and the chances of getting snatched. Not a new subject out here. We spotted a blinky taillight ominously flickering in the middle of the road. I heard that they leave these behind. Who’d they get? Maybe they already got one of us. How would we know, is there a test?
Later, Andy admitted he sometimes liked building mountains from mashed potatoes. Not sure what any of this means right now. File it away for later.
It was a new moon and pitch black, except for our lights and the lightning on the northern horizon. Here we go again.
The first stop Todd was waiting with his family. They handed out bottles of water and good cheer. He told us later that the storms were actually WAY up north of I-80. In York, Nebraska. That must be 100 miles away! Nevertheless, it was our constant companion for the remainder of the night.
The small towns all seemed deserted until we hit Concordia which was hilly and quiet too. We stopped at the quick mart. There were some natives watching us curiously. Surely, wondering what we were up to. One asked the same question we always get. How far are you riding? I told them a fourteen-mile loop. It sounds better at 1am out here in the dark with thunderstorms looming. Maybe they won’t think we’re crazy, or aliens.
We picked up Kelly again and continued north over roads alternating between MMR and sand. The lightning was now higher in the sky and grew more intense. Still no thunder.
Just before we got to Courtland, the halfway point, I stopped to swap batteries on the headlights. Andy and Matt got out ahead. We bumped into them again at the brewery. After that it was glimpses way off in the distance, or tracks in the dirt and mud.
What about the storms? They’re “probably” going to miss us because we’re so slow. Stay on the dry route, we were told.
I’m now limping around (when not riding) and my good knee hurt like hell. WTF? It’s the best knee I’ve got and this? Probably just a niggle. Ignore it and continue on.
The morning light brought some of the coolest roads on an open range section near the Pawnee Indian Village. Amazing views and a blast to ride. Tricky, technical, might be a little sketchy? Hell yeah, let’s do ‘er.
A neutral “breakfast” stop in Chester. Eldon ran it. He had a table with coffee, donuts, and other snacks laid out. A pretty good stop. Even had a box of rice crispy treats, which fit nicely in the jersey pocket for later.
It hurt to stand up so I stayed in the saddle and cranked. Had to get off and climb a couple chunky hills. There was one road that makes Unbound’s Little Egypt look like a bunny trail.
How’d you like that section? Todd asked at our second to last stop. We made it to Haddam. Todd’s hometown. He pointed to a building across the street with a faded sign. Used to be the family’s Pontiac dealership that his Dad ran. He had good news and good news. The storms had already crossed our path AND we’re switching to the “wet route”, meaning no more MMRs.
We then hit sections that had been rained on. The roads held up (we didn’t have to walk), but grew sloppy and tacky, sucking power from dwindling reserves.
The wind became a factor. At no time in our favor. The first half from the south. Switched directions from the north. Great, a “reverse unicorn” (headwinds all the way around). It had also picked up a bit. Was it gusting 30? Probably not quite. Kelly and I started working together, each taking one mile pulls.
“All hell’s getting ready to break loose in about thirty minutes”, Kelly casually mentioned. It was maybe 2p when it hit.
We ducked into a shed next to an old farmhouse just as the skies opened up. A good time to stow gear and get ready for the last bit.
“This is how we make the next news feature.”, Kelly commented wryly. Similar thoughts. When the angry farmer appears with a shotgun. Our luck seemed to hold as the rain let up and we rolled on.
What was that about no more MMRs? Well, maybe just a few more. We did have to walk for a bit. Maybe a mile or so. This is how it goes. You’re not getting out of this ride without it. It’s fine. Not much to differentiate the remaining miles until we reached the last stop in Hanover.
The rain picked up as the temps dropped into the low 60’s (F). Starting to feel chilly. That’s fine by me. I’ll take that over heat any day.
We were REALLY looking forward to some solid food as I opened the door at the quick mart and was met by a nice lady holding a mop. Dirty doesn’t describe our appearance. Shoes caked with mud. “C’mon in!”, She exclaimed and told us not to worry about making a mess.
Grabbed some water and went to the counter and asked if they had anything hot. “I can cook you a hamburger!”, the other nice lady smiled.
I almost started balling right there. Not sure why. Relief, gratitude, happiness? As much as I wanted to take her up on that offer, we didn’t have the time, settled on a cold sandwich and waited outside in the rain getting ready to roll again. She brought it out to me and it was the BEST sandwich ever.
The last fifteen were both hard and wonderful. A rainbow to the northeast as we rolled into the last river valley. The sun peeked out from the clouds for the first time in hours. It’s only five more miles, I lied to Kelly. Actually it was more like eight. Five sounded better.
About when he blurted out Andy’s a f***ing liar. He was joking of course. But, at no point in the ride was it all downhill from anywhere. In any case it was time to let those endorphins flow, we’re almost home.
Rolled across the finish line. All the happy faces. Kelly, Jed, Jeff, Courtney, Mark, Renee, Todd, Jennifer, Matt and of course Andy finished.
What do you want me to do with this? I asked Mark. It was the pint of beer I’d been carrying in my jersey pocket ever since the brewery. Delivered, unopened as required.
“Now you get to drink it”, he said.
The rest was standard fare. It’s all about recovery. Give the body what it needs after the abuse. Food, sleep, rest, all good.
Not Andy. He rode home to Topeka the next morning. An all day ride. Had more storms to ride through but that’s no more of an issue for him than it is for someone else to turn their windshield wipers on.
Before I left town, made a last stop for gas and got in a conversation with a couple of old codgers who were hanging out having coffee. What are you in town for? One of them asked. The race. Another asked what distance.
“You’re a lot crazier than you look!”, As I walked out of the door. Couldn’t argue that point.
