Tag / Cycling

by Shawn McKinney

The Long Voyage Part V

Was a tad bummed after not finishing the Unbound XL last spring. I had a ton of fun out there but knew the summer was long and needed another adventure. I considered the alternatives and naturally, this race, a.k.a “GW300” got picked.

I received the obligatory eye-roll from my lovely wife Cindy after telling her of my plans. It’s her job to be skeptical. Someone has to keep me from going off the deep end.

In my defense actually finished back in ’23. But, did not finish in ’21, ’24 and ’25.

That puts me at 1 for 4. I will point out that not a lot of people finished the XL this year (if that helps). There was a whole lot of mud. Only the strongest and fastest got across. I had trained well for it and my health was currently good. So, why not? Who knows how many more of these chances come along.

Signed up in late June and that left about eight weeks to prepare. I’m old school. Two training blocs, four weeks each. First three weeks “stairstepped” volume. Rest on the fourth week. Do it again with a bit more volume. Back-to-back long days on the weekends. An all night ride the last weekend. Call it a dress rehearsal.

Keo rolling down County Farm road. He’s gearing up for another run at the Arkansas High Country (ARHC). He and Miles are having another crack at the big loop in October. We rode together a few weeks ago. A dry run for each of our races. Riding at night must be practiced and it’s always better to team up. We had a good ride. (Thanks Keo)

It was cool that night but it has been hot all summer. Hotter than previous years. Riding in the heat is not going to be fun. We get used to it, but why? There are benefits. We can go to races in Kansas and Nebraska and not be affected by their heat. It feels cooler to us.

That might sound like a slim advantage and maybe it is. There are fitness benefits. Exercising in the heat is harder than when it’s cool. The heart has to do more work for the same power output. Our version of Rucking. When it cools our systems are tuned and ready to perform at peak. If it doesn’t cool, you’re still better off than if you otherwise didn’t train in it at all.

Admittedly this is tricky and I’m not recommending it. You may remain unconvinced and that’s OK. It’s not for everyone. There is a process and it must be practiced. It brings risk. You can’t just wing it come race day. A few years ago one of these tests failed. Had to call a friend to pluck me off the course. Had just crossed the Clinton bridge when it hit. Fifteen miles from home. It could have been worse. My friend had a car with air conditioning, cooler, ice, cold water and every kind of electrolyte drink. (Thanks for that Dan).

The margin for error is slim. It goes from being fine to not in minutes. From heat exhaustion to stroke if you don’t back off. We don’t want any of this to happen in places where there’s no help. Actually, we don’t want it to happen at all.

Arrived in Lincoln Wed and met with Carmen and John Ragland. We had a nice time at dinner and the riders meeting. They have volunteered to provide bailout for the 300 riders and have for the past three years been at the start and finish making sure that my race went OK and offer their friendship and support. (Thanks Carmen and John)

Rode up the elevator to the Rooftop with Jason and Sofia. Also met up with Jeremy. We shared some war stories. He started working for Lauf some time back. Their sponsorship and support of Gravel Worlds has no doubt contributed to the success of both organizations. (Thanks Jeremy)

Everyone seemed to be in a great mood. Relaxed even. A good sign. Sometimes there’s an ominous feeling in the air. When unfavorable conditions are in the forecast. The weather can get interesting. This year it was unbelievably nice. As in I could not believe how nice it was.

This event remains one of my favorites. It’s well run. The terrain and courses are excellent. Every year they change, which takes a ton of work. You have to curate it. The roads are dynamic and must be tested and driven repeatedly. Signs are made. Recon is done. Road marshals are placed out on the course. They’re doing everything possible to make this a safe but challenging place to test ourselves.

There’s not that much money in it. It ain’t easy dealing with all the stuff we throw at them. Jason and Sofia are our ambassadors to the event. They are always super cool and easy to work with. They understand what we came for. (Thanks Jason, Sofia)

Later that evening finished the prep work on the two bikes I brought. One’s for my brother Kelly, who’s arriving Thur for the 75 miler. This will be his second time here. Here’s the bike he’s riding.

Dan’s here for the 1500 meter swim on Fri and the 75 miler on Sat. A combination that apparently he’s the only one doing. Bringing a Lauf Seigla with him. There’s usually fun to be had when Dan shows up with that bike. The really cool thing is we all started riding gravel on the same Raleigh Willard that Kelly’s riding. An early purpose-built gravel bike. Guitar Ted helped Raleigh design it, and it has held its own with the modern bikes.

It was Feb of ’16 and my brother Timothy obtained, assembled and shipped each of us one. Everything changed after that. They can go just about anywhere and endure enormous abuse while still performing well. Not top of line efficiency. Fast enough for my kind of riding. The platform is versatile with proven durability.

Thursday was check-in day. At the expo 11a and a shakeout ride with Mike Gerwig. He’s also doing the 75 miler on Sat, afterwards driving up to the Black Hills of South Dakota for further exploration. That’s Mike’s job. He gets to travel across the country in his van and ride his bike. I want to be like Mike when I grow up.

That night Dan, Mike and I had dinner before returning back to the hotel for the final prep.

Got to sleep in Friday which is good. Later, had lunch at Runyuns, with Kelly and Dan. Then a return to the expo to allow Kelly to check in for his race. I ran into Shane who’s lining up for the 300. He’s more on the pointy end of the stick. Will he be fast? His dad Jeremy wasn’t quite sure. A pretty cool bike he’s riding and ended up being only eight and a half hours faster than mine.

We then returned back to the hotel where I spent the middle afternoon hours drinking electrolytes, making calls and taking it easy.

Race starts at 5p. We arrived a bit early and mingled near the starting line. We reunited with Carmen and John along with Michelle and Kelly Wenz. “Wichita Kelly” is also doing the 75 miler on Sat. Michelle crashed here last year and has decided to not ride it. She’s tough and riding in other places. I have no doubt she’ll get back up to speed. All of this was really good for my spirits. The mood was upbeat and relaxed. We laughed easily and that’s exactly how I like to be when I roll out of town.

In the starting coral I noticed Kristy and Andy. He’s doing the 150 on Sat and claims to be done with the overnight stuff, after snagging a fifth finish last year. That fifth Long Voyage gets you some kind of commemorative saddle. According to Andy it’s huge. (No, I’m not going for one) Now, he just does “easy” things like the Great Plains Gravel Ride or the Pony Express 250, down in Marysville. Speaking of Pony Express, Wichita Kelly says he’s doing ‘er too and so does Courtney, who was the last person I talked before being sent out into the wild.

I always start in last place. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just that I’m slow. Oh well. It’s kind of fun watching everyone else take off in a rush. I’m trying to relax here. Fast starts stress me out. This is how geezers ride.

The first 20 miles were mostly solo. I had to pee. The gravel roads out of town are well populated and traveled. Don’t laugh. This is what happens when you get older. My heart rate was high for the pace but reckoned all the excitement got the better of me. Eventually found a rhythm and a groove.

Caught up with “The Sean” after a couple more hours. We met last June on the Unbound XL course. Cool dude, total badass. Even though I’m just “A Shawn” it only seemed appropriate that we band together and form a team of Seans during this part of the race. The pace was relaxed and we cranked our way to the first stop in Beatrice. It was also in these sections we started riding on the rail trails.

This is all good because night riding can be tricky. It’s mentally taxing to maintain a proper line. We don’t have these concerns on trails. Most of the other roads on the early southbound course were otherwise smooth with not a lot of hills. Just mild undulations. Very relaxing. This meant we get to keep a decent pace without a lot of work. We save our matches for tomorrow, in the hillier sections.

Past Beatrice were more trails and a few miles of minimal maintenance roads (MMR). They were pretty rustic. A couple small stretches had to be carried because of mud. We could tell the area had received a lot of rain recently. Be sharp or bad things happen. Lines disappear and get rutted. We’re now in the dark. That’s OK. Actually, more than that. I enjoy this kind of riding, but it comes at the cost of mud and that means time to carry.

There wasn’t much to differentiate the first stop in Beatrice from the second in Marysville. At night they seem the same. We were early enough that locals were hanging out in both places. We did our business and would politely answer any questions coming our way. Some were friendly, others you could tell didn’t know what to make of us. Can’t say that I blame them. We’re invading their space. For the most part they were respectful. The clerks were always super friendly.

I got out ahead of Sean a few miles past Marysville. I reasoned that he would be fine as there were a number of other riders back there. He’s a big boy and can fend for himself. Knowing the forecast called for scattered showers and isolated thunderstorms made me uneasy and wanted to maintain a steady pace.

I scanned the western skies for signs of lightning and saw nothing. The moon had long disappeared and a few stars peered out of the clouds. This offered some encouragement. Maybe the forecast was wrong? About when a flash caught the corner of my eye. Off to the northwest. What was that? It could have been a shooting star. Aren’t we passing through the Perseid about now?

It’s difficult to articulate why we do this. I don’t mean riding bikes in general. Its positive effects are well understood.

I mean why do “crazy” challenges like this? What possible reason would someone need to ride 300 miles in one go? Part of the reason it’s hard to explain is because we don’t know ourselves. Only that it’s good. There are moments in these rides that are better than good. They become transcendent. I had a moment like that three years before out here and I’m having one again now. Under similar conditions. Alone, late at night, on a road never before ridden. Not knowing if I’ll make it back in time. What dangers or difficulties lie ahead. Out of the quiet stillness and darkness is another kind of help. Something approaching closure. We can talk to people we’ve lost and can say things to them that have never been said before. That they can hear us. It is comforting and peaceful. There are tears. Where the deepest, best parts of our lives are appreciated and understood. Wish I could explain it better than this.

Just before reaching Pawnee City another flash. This time unmistakable. That’s lightning dude. Started doing the math. Nebraska City’s 60 miles and 5 hours away. That’s when we join up with the 150 milers and switch to the “Wet Course” meaning no more MMR’s.

I studied the course earlier, but couldn’t remember exactly how many MMRs were left and precisely where they were. Three or four. Between Tecumseh and Neb City. Tecumseh was still 20 miles away. I was prepared to walk, but wasn’t certain how my bad knee would hold up. Let’s just say its got a mind of it’s own. It was then I decided to get thru Pawnee fast and minimize the chance of getting caught by the brunt of the storm. Since Tecumseh is only 20 miles, I could just top off the tanks and keep going.

The lightning show started, covering the western and northern sky. In the predawn light there wasn’t any way to judge distances. Wasn’t yet hearing thunder and so knew it had to be more than 10 miles away. As the eastern horizon showed a glimmer of light I was hit with the first raindrop and stopped to put on a poncho. Glad that I did because it then started to rain, almost before I took off again. Now I’m hearing thunder too. Huge lightning bolts zipping in all directions. The rain was not heavy but it continued past sunrise. The roads seemed to be holding up. A little slop here and there. Nothing that wasn’t easily handled. Then it slowed and stopped about when I rolled into Tecumseh. Where we might of escaped the worst.

A “full” stop this time. Complete with the luxury of eating a breakfast sandwich and slamming another Redbull. Refilled all of the water tanks. Snapped this shot with Juan. The funny thing, the last we met was on the Unbound XL course. Under similar conditions (early morning storms). Now his derailleur works. Then I lent him a chain tool to convert his bike into a single speed. Neither of us finished that day. Today we made a pact that it was gonna be different. Rolled out of town feeling pretty good until making the first turn and …

Crap. Matt and I had been playing leapfrog all night when he passed again. “What should we do?”, He asked. When I told him that now is a good time to carry.

No worries. As in literally. Stop Worrying. Gonna be alright. Stretch the legs and enjoy the fresh, clean air. Lots of people seem to enjoy walking. Why not us? Hope it doesn’t last too long though. Is there another mile after this? Was this a two-mile MMR? Nope, only a mile. We even had a stretch the last 100 meters where a strip of grass cleaned the mud that caked onto our shoes.

“Nice MMR”, I mumbled to myself. Climbed back on and pedaled off. Now, every time we get to a turn my mind tells me it’s another MMR. Quit your whining. Let it be one. So what. And that next muddy MMR never came.

Getting to the top of the course the mind flips into the other direction. “You’re gonna finish”, It wants to brag. Shut up. There are a hell of a lot miles left and anything can happen.

Mile 208 was a checkpoint for the 150 milers. They’re long gone but the neutral support remained. I was weary and my mind was fogged. “Need me to work on the bike?”, A bright voice asked. Why of course. Could you get the drive train happy? “Yes, I do believe I can”, The Shimano dude replied.

I was starting to relax for the first time in a long while and let some of the good vibes flow. Didn’t have to top off the tanks but there were other things to tend to. Found my drop bag and started swapping out batteries, discarding things no longer needed. Grabbed powder, snacks and changed into a fresh kit. When we had a conversation about the Red Bull Romaniacs. A crazy motorcycle race in Romania. The father of a father-son team had ridden it a couple of years ago and it was cool hearing about it now. A pleasant distraction and reminded me that there were crazy people everywhere. The son, Ben started with us the day before but had to drop out in Beatrice. I was impressed that instead of being disappointed he decided to turn it into something positive. All of the volunteers here were great.

Riding out with a fresh kit, my drive train wasn’t the only thing happy. Again had to suppress the optimistic thoughts. We’re entering the hilliest stretch and did not know how high the temps would get. It was also muggy. Still, a wind out of the north was cooling and would eventually push me home in the evening.

The next stretch to Weeping Water was hard but not terrible. Hadn’t eaten anything substantial in hours and the constant intake of electrolytes was causing my stomach to sing. It needed food and nothing being carried was on its menu.

Just hold out to Weeping Water, there’s food there. Rolling into that beautiful little town I looked over and saw a food truck just off course next to a quick mart. I debated stopping when I remembered that Andy was saved by a burrito from this very same food truck last year. Ordered the soft taco, went inside the mart for more water, ice and Redbull.

Here is a good time to recount on these stops locals would wander over to talk. Again, I appreciated the distraction. When I would learn something about the town, culture or lives of its people. They’re friendly in Nebraska and that makes us feel welcome.

My spirits were on the upswing as I rolled out of town. Now getting into midafternoon. The heat still not bad and drops from here. The food worked and there were less negative scenarios to hold back the optimistic thoughts.

The air museum in Ashland was cool. I’d heard there was a SR-71 and was looking forward to seeing it. It was instead a F-117A Nighthawk stealth fighter. OK, I can live with that. I’d already seen the Blackbird.

Getting to Ashland was an important milestone in my head. Now there were only 40 left. I relaxed and tried to coax myself into enjoying these last miles. Messages began flashing again on my GPS from loved ones. Made me feel validated and I can’t tell you how much it means to me. I received them at midnight and they came in at four am. You’re doing great, keep going, they would say. Now, there was nearly a constant stream.

The last two miles we got routed onto a little mountain bike trail and I loved every meter of it. Was a nice change after the miles of gravel. We’re almost done now.

Crossing the finish line and the wave of positive emotions. Kelly, Dan, Carmen, John and Andy were there. Everyone finished. NYC Kelly had achieved a personal best in mileage and got his first finish on the 75 mile course.

The rush of dopamine that follows a finish only last about a day. We then have to find another fix. Why I’ve never understood the one-and-done value proposition. We do events because we ride a lot. We don’t ride a lot just for one event. That means this story really doesn’t have an ending. It’s only until we do ‘er again.

by Shawn McKinney

GW300 2025

Preamble

Lincoln’s a proper drive from my home base in Little Rock. Broken into 3 legs. First to Rogers where Megan lives. Second to KC where there’s Heather and another sister, Kyle on a special guest appearance. Then onto Lincoln. Each segment takes about 3 hours. Overnights in any of each. For sure meal stops.

No family in Lincoln. That’s where my Gravel Family resides. Been coming here every August since 2018. It feels like a second home. All of the necessary attributes. Lots of friends. With its good times, and bad. Triumph and failure. A place to celebrate. A place to battle demons.

Pregame

Shakeout ride was on Thursday around lunchtime. Left from the Sandhills Event Center for a little out-and-back. The first and last 12 & 1/2 miles of the course. Felt pretty good. Hung out at the expo afterwards. Checked in. Visited with some old friends and made some new ones. Like how it was to be a little kid on a bike. Hey do you ride? Me too. Let’s be friends. Simple as that.

Lots of vendors bringing with them new ideas. Get to rub elbows with some pretty amazing people. Hearing their stories. Gathering the encouragement and nerve that would be needed to complete the challenge that awaits.

Later, a nice dinner with Carmen and John, at Lazlo’s in the Haymarket. It has been awesome watching them progress from novices to experts over the past couple of years, since we first met here. Seeing their fitness gains. This year Carmen’s doing the 75. John had to step down to the 50K, but sees it as an opportunity to PR.

Lastly, visited with Kelly and Michelle, back at the event center where they were camping. We had the same conversation about who was the least prepared. You can’t trust Michelle’s assessment. She always says that she didn’t train and crushes it anyway. Same with Kelly, who’s in the Double. A 50K run Friday morning followed by 150 miles on the bike Saturday. Who does that?

Prep

Then the little shifter issue. Called Richard who runs my local bike shop. He told me to call if I get into a problem at race. Like the first Long Voyage (2021) and a bent derailleur. Lost the middle gears. Affected the outcome. Not going there again. Richard got me going. It was stressful and in a weird way, beneficial. Burned off the last of the pre-race jitters with a blow torch of anxiety. Let’s call it a test.

Start

The 17:00 start Friday was delayed. Not quite fifteen minutes. A front had passed over dropping temps by at least 10 degrees. How lucky can we get? Carmen and John were there which helped calm the nerves.

Found Andy at the starting line. He’d been called up for being a possible five time finisher. The only one who has ever been eligible as the race is only five years old and there are only so many crazy people that get past their first or second. This would be our third time teaming up.

And we’re off. Don’t know how many, maybe 50 or 75. Not a lot. Sent under a hail of enthusiasm and positive energy. It felt good. Any remaining anxiety gets burned away. Knew we’d better soak up these good vibes. Gonna need it.

It did rain a bit with some wind. Not much lightning. I stopped once about an hour in to put on a poncho. Couldn’t quite get it over my swollen Camelbak. Screw it. We don’t need no stinking ponchos. Then it stopped. Some blustery wind gusts kicked up for a while. Made things interesting. Added to the excitement of the moment. I harbored some concern over what was gonna happen down the road, if/when the MMR’s get soaked. That’s just one of many and nothing to be done, so forget about it.

The evening grew dark and all’s well. We’re making decent progress. All systems functioning nominally. Time to get dialed in for the long roll through the night. Make the necessary adjustments. Met a couple of unlucky riders in Plattsmouth who had to bail out. One had vertigo, another with a nasty sliced tire. Both seemed OK. Nothing to be done other than kind words.

Big Muddy on a toll bridge requires a quarter to cross. Carmen gave me one at the starting line. This about when it gets fun. As in Type I. Now, we’re going places. Across the wide expanse of the valley into the lush rolling fields of Iowa all under the cover of darkness.

We’d traversed many of these roads a couple years earlier. They were familiar and even comfortable. Like an old friend who can be cantankerous. We knew where the difficulties were and didn’t have to think much about them.

We’ve talked some before about how the early morning hours can get spooky. Strange lights and sounds. Overnight crossings of interchanges is never going to be fun. A couple long stretches on pavement. Makes sense. We’re crossing a major river valley and an Interstate. One of the longest climbs into a small town called Glenwood. There folks passing in cars, slowing and staring at us as if we were aliens. Maybe we had been abducted or infected by them. Then back into the climby bits. Progress was still good, not great. Everything well within tolerances.

Passed thru Treyner’s firestation somewhere in the middle of the night. They opened their doors and let our filthy selves in. Didn’t catch the name of who was pulling cleanup detail and watching the store. Looked to be pretty high up the food chain. Maybe the captain? An unmistakable boost to our morale to have them here. For communities to welcome us. Makes us feel validated and safe. A humbling experience. Jason Strohbehn’s a favored son in these and parts and it shows by how we’re treated.

Moving out of there and back into the grind of the Iowa country side. Up, down, up, down and up and down and up and down. On and on it goes. Never stopping. The climbs are punchy enough to require effort. On the other side you better make damn sure a proper line’s being kept. We mostly bombed the downhills. The climbs and chunk was slowing us down. We weren’t making good time.

As the hours ticked off it all starts to gradually wear you down. The constant stream of effort and focus means both the body and mind are burning energy. Straining eyes scan the foreground for hazards in the most minute of detail. Eyeglasses fog over from being at dew point. Eventually, just stowed them. Do you want proper eye protection or clarity of vision? What’s worse being in the ditch or having something stuck in your eye? The bugs weren’t bad. With just me and Andy, not a lot of rocks getting kicked up.

Do you ever get that song stuck in your head?, Andy asked. Yeah, but not right now. Could’ve been a Stones song. Can’t Get No Satisfaction. Or maybe ACDC Thunderstruck. Music, especially Classic Rock, is a safe topic out here. Nostalgia can drown the pain.

What do you think about? I’d been riding quiet for some time. I’ll tell you what doesn’t get thought about. That we have 200 miles left to ride. What’s happening right this second gets priority. There are countless issues to contemplate. They seem trivial in a normal context but rise in importance when in the moment. Starting with navigation. I already mentioned vision. Related to that is lighting. How it all gets maintained absorbs all of my attention. Turn the light intensity up on the downhills, back down again once at the bottom. To preserve power. If I do it right, there’ll be plenty for tomorrow night. If I make it that far.

On top of hydration? Filthy bottles caked with who knows what, from the roads. How about some food? Oh shit, watch out. F, almost went down there. Let me get my heartrate back down. How much further to the next stop. Is the drivetrain starting to play a tune? There’s strategy and tactics. When can I stop vs. How can I not stop.

The GPS headset displays the map, heartrate and power metrics. Bike computer has speed and average mph. Rarely do I look at distance traveled. Only when trying to plan a stop. Speaking of GPS, it consumes power too. I already switched on the aux battery about an hour after sunset. That keeps the backlight on. Great for navigating. No missed turns or surprises. More than a feature at night.

Again, not really watching time or distance. What difference does it make? It’s not like there’s another gear or power source for legs. They’re doing what they can do. Leave them alone. Let them do their thing.

Just before the nature trail segment we caught up with Brian. He’d been out ahead of us for an hour or two. Could see the blinky lights appear and disappear in rhythm with the hills.

The three of us rode together for the next hour. It was nice being able to relax, chat and just crank the wheels over that smooth, flat and well maintained trail. Gave the mind a much needed rest from the strain of the downhills.

Once we hit the other side, it was time for another stop, in Shenandoah. Jamie Tracy had his van by the Caseys. This was now the third year I’d seen him out there. His wife Christie had passed through hours before. She eventually was the first woman finisher. I had drop bags there. A change of socks, gloves, head gear and lights. Grabbed the powder for the 2nd half, refilled water tanks, and off again. No time to hang out, even though it would have been nice.

Not long after was the sunrise. That’s always going to bring a boost. This one was foggy and overcast. A kind of gloomy mood seemed to settle in. Underscored the task that lay ahead.

Riding through the Windmill farms was routine. We’d been warned numerous times about the heavy chunk. It was anticlimatic. Didn’t even have to slow down. Well, maybe once. Just more prime Grade A chunk. By then we’d grown fat on a steady diet.

Hamburg, MO. A Great Stop. Maybe the best of the day. Super nice little river town. I was happy to be out of Iowa after 100 miles. We clipped the top corner of Missouri. Enough to say we’d been there. Passed another rider before reaching town. More pavement, and now that the sun burned off the cloud cover, it’s starting to look like a beautiful day. The townfolk were nice considering how awful we looked. They in their Saturday finery and us being not so fresh. Friendly chatter and even some cheers. As if we weren’t Bushwackers riding out from the hills after another night raid.

Beginning to show signs of wear, but you got to keep a happy face. Not that have a nice day fake bullshit happy. What else was there to do? No use complaining. We all knew another 125 miles of Shane’s Little Shop of Horrors awaited us to the finish line.

Rolling out of Hamburg meant crossing the US Hiway 2 bridge over the MO river basin. Not a fun crossing. A long stretch of paved shoulder with no safe egress. This means cars and trucks whizzing past with no escape. We have to trust them. That they’re not out of their minds or distracted by phones. Most got over. Some didn’t. One laid on the horn. Obviously confused. How dare we ride there. Wait a minute. This is not an Interstate. Race or no race, we have every right to the shoulder. Find something to like about it.

In any case this is how I roll. Busy interchanges are the only way into / out of most towns, bicycle infra being what it is. More hazards than you can shake a stick at. Not recommended. Do something often enough and it becomes normal. Probably not OK for you. Fine for me.

Next, we’re back on gravel where we rule. Had a long way along the river headed north into the wind. When Andy and I started working together. We’re not exactly breaking speed records, but not losing more ground. When we helped a rider get his wheel plugged. We’re on the bubble and losing time again. So what. Form Over Function. Not even a hard question. Yes, stop and help the rider.

Afterwards, more work headed north and west as we made our way on a meandering path back to Lincoln. Climbing out of the river basin, more hills and a rising tide of wind from the north.

Upon entering the course with the 150 milers there was a checkpoint at the Arbor Day Trail. A winding, chunky little patch through the park that I could have done without. That’s OK. It’s not always about me. Compounding woes we almost missed the water stop. The 150 riders had long since passed. Their timing strip was being taken down. We stopped and talked to the driver who pointed us back to water.

They waited on us. About half a dozen. Angels lent from a town nearby. I can’t remember their names. They didn’t know exactly who we were either. It didn’t matter. Is there ICE? Yes, we have cooler over there. A water hose was produced along with some snacks that I had no need for. The water and ice were enough. Along with the kindness they showed helping us get our act back together.

About when we started to notice the heat. Nothing bad actually. Just enough to know it gets to play its part. Did I mention hills? No matter, just put that on repeat. Then the MMRs kept us sharp. I did not mind them. Enjoy is a better word.

Trucks and volunteers started to pass by. Need anything? I could use a bottle of cold water. Tear open an LMNT package and pour it in. Shake and down it like some kind of weird gravel junky. Get that salt fix. Could have been refreshing? Take that sun. We win for now.

Speaking of the mind, it becomes trouble ignoring its symphony of pain. Which hurts the most rings the chorus. Or, the question everyone asks, how do you sit that long on a bicycle seat? Well, yeah, exactly. There are workarounds. A good fit, saddle, bibs, chamois and cream of course. Don’t make me tell you my Chamois Butt’r allergy story. I’ll tell you. Just keep asking about butt pain and you’re gonna hear about it. I promise that you won’t like it.

A tolerance develops. There are limits. They can be pushed aside with more training. I didn’t train as much as I would have liked. When you punch it all in the answer becomes maybe not what you want.

To think about it is to grant it power. Push it back. Besides, the neck hurts even more? A riding position for 24 hours isn’t real comfy. We don’t have neck pillows that work on gravel bikes.

What about us the legs beg. You’re not cramping, what do you have to complain about. Been doing hack squats for about a day. Quit your whining. The back ain’t exactly celebrating and the hands are screaming bloody murder. Palms getting cut up. Oh well. What about me poor arms. Don’t we get some love? Shut the f up. You got aerobars. What more do you want. The tummy’s notably absent from this sad song. It really wants to help. But, it’s language of love is cheeseburgers and corndogs and they’re not yet being harvested from the fields.

That’s not Andy getting out further ahead. We’re just letting him think so because it’s good for his ego. Him on one gear speeding away from me on 12.

Probably should’ve broke out the ear buds. The symphony of pain was growing louder.

And still we slow. Everything’s dropping. Power, speed, heartrate. Another 20 miles to the next stop. I need food to replenish. Have another bread ball. It’s Wonderful. Why can’t I swallow it? Spit it out. Can I interest you in another gel pack? Naw, just a salt stick for me, thanks.

What the hell, am I complaining? We’re on House Money. What with the summer training and health drought. A month earlier couldn’t even say I’d make the trip let alone line up for the 300. Most likely would’ve dropped down to the 150. Like back in ’22. Decided to go for it. With the second century now behind, it’s all good.

Gratitude can be a salve. Sure, the wind, rocks, legs, neck were under constant review. A perfect backdrop into not finishing with zero regrets. Failing the greater challenge’s better than just another finish. These gains must be appreciated and put into perspective.

That spot up on a hill. So green and lush. It offers trees and shade. Looks so nice and peaceful up there. The wind feels like a gentle autumn breeze. Maybe I could stop for a moment. Might find a cookie if I dig around enough. Could answer some of those texts of encouragement that have been coming in.

Who are you calling? Have you found what we’re looking for? Does it matter if the finish line was crossed? Or are the experience and lessons enough? A finish is good but it’s not why we’re here. There’s more. Got to get a hamburger and think about it.

When the Yukon arrived. Didn’t want to mess it up. Told not to worry about it. They’re ferrying riders from western Iowa / eastern Nebraska and back all day and night. Won’t accept anything extra as payment. 3 feet Cycling. Not the last time our paths will cross.

After

Carmen, John were back at my truck. When I learned about Michelle’s concussion. It’s a long story and not really mine to tell. The short version is she’s OK. John PR’ed the 50K. Carmen didn’t get to finish her 75. She found Michelle unconscious and stayed with her until the ambulance came. Later she made sure her bike made it back to Lincoln. She gave up a finish and helped a friend who needed it. I wouldn’t have expected any less from her. That’s how this Gravel Family rolls.

I did get to hang out with Michelle at the finish line. We had that hamburger and waited for Kelly to cross. A muted celebration. I picked up my four pack of Climbing Kites and headed back to the hotel room.

Day After

Andy finished of course. Eleven minutes before the cutoff. I wasn’t there. He got that award for 1500 miles of hell. He says it’s his last. He’s done with single day events and wants to focus on things like the Great Plains Gravel Ride. We had breakfast with his wife Kristy and I had a nice time hearing how they met on a bike ride. If you want to talk to Andy, you best get on two wheels.

Afterwards it was back to KC for another meetup with sisters, Kyle, in from Seattle, and Heather, who lives in Waldo. Onto Rogers for another night hanging with Megan and Cameron. We topped it all off with an ice cream run.

A more perfect ride could not have been asked for. Was it the outcome I wanted? It’ll do.

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