“You must pay for everything in this world one way and another. There is nothing free except the Grace of God. You cannot earn that or deserve it.” Charles Portis - True Grit
I wasn't planning to enter the Unbound 200 this year. I told my wife that I would not enter for a third year in a row. After all I had accomplished my goal of beating the sun in 2014, despite 2 flat tires & hamstring cramps for 75 miles. No sir, this was going to be a year off from the requisite long & lonely training. But as entry day approached, circumstances conspired against my best intentions.
Since this was the tenth year of the 200 Jim Cummins (the founder & promoter) announced that it would be a special celebratory edition with a new route. He deemed it the "Decade of Dirty". Sponsors chipped in with extra prizes. The weather a week before was as if Mother Nature heard about Jim's plans and said "if you want something special, Jim, I can give you special. Heck, I'll give you extra special"
Last year I had arrived fit enough to compete, so I would use the same self designed training plan again. Yet another long cold winter in New England meant I did more skiing than cycling to get into shape. Even the spring weather was frequently more like winter. I trained through the Rasputitisa dirt road race in April. That event included a 3 mile long hike on a snow packed trail. It would prove to be better preparation than I could foresee at the time.
Rebecca & me |
In early April my plans got overturned. Pamela was diagnosed with cancer & would start chemotherapy immediately. Understandably she & John would not be making the trip to Emporia. I am confident however that if anyone has the resilience to beat cancer, it is Pamela. I decided upon the recommendation of Alby King to use the Never Let Go "crew for hire" service rather than try to recruit some long lost friend from Lawrence to support me. But this meant a substantial change in my preparation. My tendency is to go to bike races over equipped. I'd rather have a few things too many than one critical item too few. Yet the "crew for hire" program limited me to a 14"x14" drop bag for each check point. I would not enjoy the comforts of spare wheels, a suitcase of clothing choices, or a cooler stocked with whatever I might particularly like to eat & drink. But as Mattie Ross says in True Grit: "You know what they say, "Enough is as good as a feast.”"
My drop bags packed with all I could fit & all I hoped I would need |
The greater turn for everyone's plans was the rain. Thunder storms soaked Kansas in the week prior to the race. Emporia received over 4.5 inches of rain in the 10 days leading up to the Saturday. Some parts of Chase County received more, flooding river crossings & washing out roads. Yuri Hauswald posted on Twitter how muddy the 1st part of the course was on Thursday. I replied that this looked like just another cyclocross race at Gloucester, but one that would last 100 laps. Would that I had not been so accurate in my estimation.
Yuri's preview did give me an important chance to prepare. I remembered the mud we had to run through in 2013. I imagined that instead of 100 meters like then this hike could go on for much longer. I practiced shouldering my bike with the frame bag on. I also strapped a cleaning brush to my seat pack. Then I fashioned a small fender onto the handle from a soda bottle & duct tape. 190 miles in bike shorts soaked with mud & peppered with sand is a ride I would not wish on an enemy.
cleaning brush & chamois saver all in one |
Friday I woke up in Emporia to the sight of more rain. I tried to wait it out but as morning was quickly slipping past I geared up for a wet preview ride. I only went 7 miles into the course but that was enough to confirm Yuri's warning. Early in the route we would hit a bog of thick mud. As the old proverb says: forewarned is forearmed.
Volunteers marked the course on Friday, yup, it was muddy |
Thom Coupe, the other New Hampshire cyclist at the Kanza |
― Charles Portis, True Grit
The front group at mile 3, photo by Coverage Photography |
In the trench, photo by Chad Ament |
carrying & pushing. Photos by Chad Ament |
Section 2: a long ride to Cottonwood Falls
― Charles Portis, True Grit
Joe Stiller aka Fat Bike Dude. Photo by Jason Ebberts/ TBL Photography |
When we left Madison I expected that we were through with muddy hiking for the day. I was wrong. At mile 90 or so we hit a section of farm track too thick to ride. It felt like a kick in the teeth. With no other option I shouldered the bike again to trot for half a mile. At the end of the mud there were some large puddles across the road. I stopped to clean my bike as did several others. It was the 3rd & mercifully final time I would unstrap my brush/fender. Dry roads were ahead and about 100 more miles.
More mud. Photo by Linda Guerette |
The mud had not ended my race, but it did take a toll. My shifting had become as indifferent & unresponsive as a French waiter. I would down shift three clicks & the chain would move one cog, as if to say "I'm sorry monsieur, but zat is not ze gear for you, better to spin ze higher cadence, no?" When I tried to up shift it replied "Impossible! Can you not see I am fatigued, monsieur? You must wait now!" Eventually I discovered that if I tugged the housing after I shifted, the cable would move better. My bike wasn't running well, but it was running well enough.
A greater toll was paid by my knees. Miles of hiking and heavy pedaling with mud caked shoes made my bad left knee ache. I could not push as hard as I wanted to anymore. My pace slowed substantially. After an hour or so I remembered that I put 4 ibuprofen tablets in my bento box. I fished two out & eagerly swallowed them. I hoped these would be enough for a second wind.
Fate was not done with me yet though. I feared that my front tire was too soft from the earlier flat. Rather than use my last CO2 cartridge I put my mini pump on the valve. No additional air seemed to be getting into the tube. I threaded the pump hose onto the valve tighter, no difference again. In taking the pump hose off I unscrewed the valve core letting all the air out of the tire. I discovered that the pump's air chamber hole was clogged with mud. I used my last cartridge & prayed for no more flats before Cottonwood Falls.
In between my mechanical misfortunes and the groaning from my knees, there were moments of immense beauty. The misty weather gave a sheen to the landscape. Instead of the usual sapphire blue under an intense Kansas sun, the overcast sky allowed the tall grass to radiate a vibrant emerald green. Few people ever get to see how pretty the prairie is away from the highways & towns.
the prairie was beautiful when I could notice. Photo by Eric Benjamin |
I passed Fat Bike Dude again about 30 miles outside Cottonwood Falls. For much of this stretch I was riding with someone in a black kit & using triathlon seat mount bottle cages, aka Tri Seat Guy. He looked to be struggling as much as I was. We had been riding into a steady 14mph headwind for 50 miles. As the saying goes; misery loves company. We chatted for a bit. The roads began to be familiar to me from the past course. I told him we were getting close to the end of this section as we neared Bazaar. He seemed encouraged by that. I believe he said his name was Scott, but I did not find out where he was from, nor can I confirm it. That is a shame since he was good company.
As the ibuprofen began to work I was able to increase my pace. I rolled into Cottonwood Falls knowing that I would not finish before sundown. I had hoped at Madison to ride the 2nd section in 5 hours, it had taken me 7. Yet the thought of 43 familiar miles to go lifted my spirits. I only had to push hard for 3 more hours.
― Charles Portis, True Grit
I took my last two ibuprofen and headed out. My plan was to steadily increase my effort until I could see Emporia. I knew that the final head wind section would be tough, 8 miles of rolling road with no shelter. I passed Fat Bike Dude a final time. He must have gone through Cottonwood Falls without stopping. But I no longer had time to chat, it was time to race.
I turned north into the long last stretch of headwind. A mile or so into it a pair of riders caught me, one wearing a CTS jersey. Recognizing a good situation I latched on to their pace line. After my turn at the front I asked "Are you Chris Carmichael?" Yes he was. I shared that I was a home town friend of his newest assistant, Thom Coupe. He said "Thom is a good kid". We continued to take steady pulls into the wind for the next 6 miles. Knowing Carmichael's strength & experience I feared that he would drop me. Still, if anyone could run a pace line it was him.
About 4 miles on a women bridged up to our group. She was churning the pedals at low cadence but had a mile wide grin. Her long blonde ponytail and strong pulls reminded me of my Swedish cousins, so I nicknamed her "Viking Girl". Just before the right turn toward Kahola our group caught 4 guys meandering up the track. One them recognized "Viking Girl" and said "her again! she's been wearing us out all day!" I replied "That's not what she told me, I bet she's about to drop you". That was all the spark she needed, because as we turned onto a steep grade, she attacked. I came around for a dig of my own. As we crested the hill I saw that we had a gap on the others.
April Morgan (viking girl) & me at the finishers tent |
She was off my wheel but in sight when we started around Kahola Lake. A family had set up a tent beside the road & offered up drinks to us racers. A young boy called out "Do you want a Coke?" "Sure I'll take that" I said. He seemed surprised as I snatched it from his hand without slowing. With under 20 miles to go there was no time for pleasantries.
About 4 miles outside of Americus I caught up to Tom "not Cosmo's Dad" Catalano and another fellow. As I came past them I told him to hop on my wheel. He jumped to it and replied "I'll try, but I don't have much left" I worked to keep the pace above 20 mph when the road was straight. I would pull for 3-4 minutes then follow him for a few. Just before town he drifted off my draft. I was stopped by a red at the lone traffic light in Americus. Tom caught back on there. We continued to trade pulls for another few miles out of town, but at some point he faded back. I did what I could to help him finish. I'm certain he'd have done the same for me.
At this point I could see the lights of Emporia in the distance. I pushed to keep my pace up while checking my Garmin for every turn. As I reached the ESU campus I stood out of the saddle for a final surge, but my legs were empty. Crossing onto Commercial Street the cheers from the crowd gave me a boost to pedal for the finish line. I slapped as many high fives with the kids lining the barricades as I could manage. I crossed the line & hoisted my bike above my head. I've never been so elated to simply finish a race.
In the finish tent, done & dusted. Photo by Eric Benjamin |
"Was this what they call grit in Fort Smith? We call it something else in Yell County!"
― Charles Portis, True Grit
Until now I have avoided any direct allusion to the book & films to which the title of this post refers. While I like the Charles Portis book & the Coen brothers film version as well, I have no love for Rooster Cogburn. Any man who claims to have "ridden with Quantrill" elicits an immediate enmity from a Jayhawk such as myself. In all honesty there is little in common between a story of two lawmen & a teenage girl seeking vengeance for her father's murder and an arduous bike race. But there is this: True Grit is not just a good western, nor merely a character sketch of the irascible Rooster Cogburn & the precocious Mattie Ross. The truth of the story is that only when Cogburn, La Beouf, & Mattie sacrifice the best of themselves to save each other do they find their true grit. I realized this year that no one finishes in Emporia by themselves. In the past I viewed this race as a solitary endeavor, strong legs & a stronger will was all that was needed to finish. But this year I was compelled to make new friends on route & in the end offer what little I had left to help others succeed. I was happy that Tom & April made the podium in their categories and proud that I had helped them in a small way. At the same time I could not have endured the challenges of this course without the aid of my fellow travelers. The truest grit is giving the best of yourself when it hurts the most without regard for repayment or reward.
The following day I was glad to meet my new friends at the awards breakfast. Both "Fat Bike Dude" Joe Stiller & "Viking Girl" April Morgan were seated near me. That afternoon I stopped in Lawrence for lunch with my parents and to buy souvenirs at Sunflower Bike. I was surprised to see Colin "Mechanic of Kanza Champions" Earhart already back at work. He spotted me and said "You were flying coming into the first check point, what happened after that?" I told him of the mechanicals & knee issues that unraveled my race in the next 60 miles. "Still you finished, and this year that's something" he replied. It took that as high praise.
Collin Earhart & me before the race |
I will likely not attempt it next year. But then again, I said that last year too.
P.S. I could not tell this tale as I would want without use of the photo's above, The professionals that shot them were very generous. Please take a look at their other work at the links below:
http://coverage.zenfolio.com/f972453570
http://www.tblphotography.com/2015dk200
http://www.lindaguerrettephotography.com/f374614369
http://adventuremonkey.com/