2019 Dirty Kanza

The 2019 Dirty Kanza was a race that won’t ever leave my soul. It was unlike anything I’ve ever done, yet it was an accumulation of everything I’ve learned in sport and life up to this point. Dirty Kanza is way more than just showing up and pedaling your bike for 200 miles. But at the root, that’s all it is. Pedaling. 200 miles. On a rough gravel surface. Eating. Drinking. Until you are back to where it all started. Back in Emporia, but as a transformed person.

How did 14 hours, 36 minutes, and 52 seconds change my life?

Having been an athlete for such a long time, it’s kind of rare to get an experience that moves me so. There have been a few pivotal sporting moments in my life. But none quite like this year in Kansas. Why did I come back? Was I not fulfilled enough with my 2018 experience? I smiled for the entire race. I suffered. I finished. Was that not good enough?

It took a while to recover from last year. My legs hated me all summer. Probably because I tried to get them to pedal too fast, too soon. But I was left with a lingering feeling like I missed something. I had to go back to experience whatever that was.

Passion. Community. Grit. Grace.

I attended the inaugural Dirty Kanza Women’s Camp last fall and with that, my ticket was punched to the 2019 DK start line. What I got from that camp was an invaluable experience that I kept with me over a long winter of training. What I learned stayed with me through those dark moments. And in every mile of the 2019 event.

Have you ever had a ride change your life? As a part of the camp, we raced the Bleeding Kansas Gravelduro. And through a crazy train of events, I rode side by side with the Queen of Pain, all day long. And with her mistimed flat during a timed sector, I get to say I beat Reba. Beyond the podium, through our conversations and silence, what I really won was a first class experience from someone who I very much respect and admire. We were a group of women from around the country with very different backgrounds, that came together for one goal. Women supporting women. Encouragement. Empowerment. Excitement. Camp director Kristi said it best, “This is our time.”

I brought back that enthusiasm to my community and somehow convinced my good friend Christine to register. I never thought she’d say yes. Christine likes to go fast. 60 miles is her jam. She is a badass woman, mother of four, and one of the most disciplined athletes I’ve met. We self-coached each other, constantly bouncing ideas back and forth. We went to San Diego this winter and dug a deep hole made huge gains in our fitness. When we weren’t riding in rainstorms, we were watching movies on the trainer together. We raced Barry Roubaix 100 side by side, blow by blow, for 80 miles. I’m forever thankful to have her as my friend and training partner. She definitely made me believe in myself; finishing wasn’t the only goal this year.

2019 brought a new, northern course. I had done a few miles on some of the roads during camp and it was a welcome sign when I was like, hey I’ve done this before! I knew it’d start fast and furious, with a huge field of real UCI professionals and strong women crushers. Christine and I had planned to ride together but I lost sight of her ahead. I looked back and saw no one – I was last in the lead pack. We were flying for those first 25 miles. The pace was insane and I felt like I was burning matches that I may pay for later. But it sure felt like free speed. That is until we turned into the first two track / no maintenance road and the first sketchy descent. Unfortunately, there was a crash at the bottom, and it didn’t look good. Shortly after, I found Christine and we vowed to take it easy the rest of the race. No need to end the race prematurely by crashing out.

So we are pedaling along at a steady pace. The endless rolling green fields are truly magnificent. As we are moving across the land, I really try and soak in the experience as those big green rolling fields unveiled themselves. To move the moment away from my legs, power numbers, and fueling plan, and just take the opportunity to look around and be thankful for what we’re all experiencing. These Kansas views are insane. A red sunrise. The endless tallgrass fields. Not a cloud in the sky. Riding along with my best friend. This is Dirty Kanza.

Christine got a flat at a really inopportune moment, descending on a bendy, bumpy road. I called back to the passing riders asking if she was okay. Yeah, she’s okay. Okay so what’s wrong?! I climbed back up the hill and helped her with the flat. Added a blast of co2 and the sealant did its job on the sidewall nick.

We were on our way to the first checkpoint, just a little under 4 hours. Kyle was screaming his head off, directing us towards the tent, perfectly placed. We hopped off and got to work with the refuel. Christine got her spare front wheel, chains lubed, CamelBak’s switched, Coke’s drank, sunscreen applied. A little push and we were off.

Every race report will read that the middle 100 miles were the hardest. And they were, but I think that’s where I had the most fun. I felt strong. I was on top of my nutrition. Got to Lil’ Egypt road and wow. People were scattered everywhere and most were walking. I hate hike-a-biking, so I tried my damnedest to stay steady. I called out “riding, riding” as I was passing the walkers who so kindly moved over for us. Made it to the top and definitely gave the sky a little fist bump.

There are a lot of ways to describe the course at this point. Chunky gravel. Big sharp rocks. Technical. Sketchy. Bumpy, unmaintained scars in the earth that can’t even be classified as a road. There were definitely a few swear words uttered towards the race directors, and you just kept asking, will this ever end?

The EF neutral oasis at mile 100 was simply fantastic and totally unexpected. We probably spent too much time here, filling CamelBaks and bottles and hosing off but it was absolutely necessary. It was located at the exact spot of the halfway point for the Bleeding Kansas event. The volunteers were so wonderful and encouraging, it was the exact pick-me-up we needed. Right after that was a paved fast section before the next challenging two track. Into the neutral water station at mile 121, Christine wasn’t feeling good. The ice was nearly gone but we got some placed in her bibs and our bras. Filled the camelbaks with gross tasting water. Put our heads under the hose. And I filled her slow leaking, new front tire with a floor pump. We stopped at a little kid lemonade stand on the way out of town and had their last two bananas. {Thank you!!}

30 miles to the checkpoint. We can do this. I felt really strong and we were picking off riders here and there. We were riding the tough sections. Back rolling tempo and Christine gets another flat while descending, this time on the rear. I turn back and she’s already yelling at me to keep going. I make it to her and she tells me to go. She’s got Steve and he can help her with the flat. Go!

I came to Kanza with two goals. To beat the sun and to ride with Christine. I knew the split could happen but I didn’t want to think about having to make the decision. She made it, but I had to muster up the courage and selfishness to leave. I grabbed her hand and told her, “You can do this. You will do this. I love you.”

And I was off. That was mile 132.

Focus. Drive. Determination. And a little math.

69 mostly solo miles remained ahead of me with lots more technical terrain. A water crossing where I got off my bike and dunked myself in for that baptismal experience. A steep and rocky climb out of there had me walking. A nice man gave me a sample size “Her” chamois butter at the top – he said he likes that “flavor” best.

Then I saw Linda in a ditch and screamed: “Hi Linda, I love you!” Right as she snagged this shot.

I turned onto a bike path and was with this pro looking dude. We worked together and flew into the final checkpoint. There was Kyle, screaming at me with the best tent placement ever. Our SAG crew of Jim, Jenny, and Kyle really nailed their jobs this weekend and I’m forever grateful for their support.

I knew every second mattered but I needed a little more time at the checkpoint. I changed out of my wet socks and shoes. I had my coke and a banana. Pickles and salt tabs. Ibuprofen. My hamstring cramped right as I was sitting down in the grass and knew I had to get that under control before leaving. 2 motivator pills. Ice in CamelBak, ice sock front and back, 2 bottles of calories, and 5 gels should carry me home. I cried in the tent saying out loud I don’t think I can do it. And I was immediately treated with “Yes you can! You’ve got time! You can do it!” I flipped my switch. Kyle asked me if I wanted my big light. NO. The one on there is fine in case of an emergency. But I’m going to beat the sun and I won’t need that light. And no, I don’t need those clear lenses. Got on my bike. And started to believe. Kissed him goodbye and vowed to chase that sun.

The final countdown. Sunset.

I knew it’d be close. Garmin told me I couldn’t do it. It predicts your time to the finish, and it kept saying I’d miss sunset by 20 minutes, 17, 15, 10. I drove the pace and watched the prediction fall. I’ve said it here before, but a positive mental attitude can take you far. It will help those slow-moving miles tick by faster. PMA is sometimes just turning the grimace into a smile. Encouraging self-talk. For me, those last 50 miles took the most amount of focus I’ve ever had to muster. At a time when it’d be easier to let the mind wander.

I used two tactics: 1) Gotta get the cattle to Denver. And 2) I imagined Rebecca Rusch just off the front of my right side. Encouraging me, pushing me to go faster, to try harder, and yelling at me to earn this for myself.

1) My college friend Gabe liked to binge play Railroad Tycoon. And during one of his mega sessions, he was staring at his screen, transfixed and delusional. “Gabe, what are you doing?” Sleep deprived, and without breaking his gaze he responded, “Gotta get the cattle to Denver.” So it’s been an inside joke for quite some time. Whenever Kyle and I are hauling on the tandem to catch the train, I employ Gabe’s quote. I probably said it out loud 15x during that last section.

2) I decided to come back for another crack at this race because I felt like I had unfinished business.  Last fall, I had the most amazing opportunity to ride with the one and only, Rebecca Rusch. She knew my goals for Kanza and pushed me to a place I wouldn’t have gone to on my own. I learned so much from her, and about myself, that weekend. Even though she missed DK this year, she was there. Riding off my front wheel. Pushing me further than I thought possible. I may have been tired, but these hallucinations of her in this orange kit are really what got me home.

I can do this. I will do this. You are doing this.

In between the positive self-talk sessions, I moved onto math class. 50 miles. 3:40. You have to ride 15mph. Okay, 40 miles left and 3:00 hours – just like an easy great western loop. I really hope this tailwind pushes me home. Oh yes! The chaise! How could I forget! I see a nice woman at the top of a hill, then the chaise in all its glory. Signature pose. In and out.

The men’s winner Colin Strickland said it best, “One of the things I love so much about gravel racing is that there is always a best line, that one centimeter stripe down the road that is a little faster than anywhere else. I’m always trying to find that line, and that helps keep the mind occupied.” This was exactly my thoughts during those final 15 miles with over an hour left. You can do this. Pedals down. Keep spinning. Take smart lines. Be safe. Smile. You are doing this. You can do this. My shadow is getting taller. My goodness, this scenery is beautiful. My heart is getting bigger. Hitting the climb at Emporia State, I knew I had done it. Tears. Ugly tears. Streaming down my face. I could barely see down the finish chute. So much emotion and passion and love and tears. 14:36.52 – I beat that damn sun by 7 minutes. Elation. Satisfaction. And love for all who got me there. I am the luckiest.

25th women across the line and the last woman to beat the sun. And less than an hour later, Christine finished. She pushed onward and out of her dark spot. She found one of my friends from camp and they finished together. I’m so thankful to call Christine my friend and training partner, and I’m just so dang proud of her. And to the surprise of no one, teammate Cynthia absolutely smashed her first DK, placing 4th in her age group and 13th overall. She who says she’ll never do it again is already reconsidering.

To our support crew: thank you from the bottom of my heart. Kyle, Jim, and Jenny were rockstars all day on Saturday. Motivated, encouraging, thoughtful, and just the right amount of pushy – aka get outta here and get the hell back on your bike! Jim flew in from San Diego and Jenny from Chicago. They made sure our bikes were taken care of, our bellies fed, and our bodies cooled. Without them, none of what we accomplished would’ve been possible. I’m also thankful to Velosmith, for getting our bikes in tip-top shape before the event. And to my team, The Meteor // Intelligentsia, this season has been so much more rad with all the support!

Preparation, execution, belief, and a little bit of luck. Dirty Kanza.

2019 DK by the numbers:
201 miles
14:36 total time 13:54 ride time
945 TSS
11,200′ elevation gain
40% of the time ridden in the drops (estimated)
161 average power / 160 average heart rate
6500 calories burned
Zero mechanicals
Mosaic XT-1
700×35 Panaracer GravelKing SK tubeless at 38psi
Stan’s carbon Grail wheelset
SRAM eTap HRD 11 spd. 50/34 11/32
Fizik cockpit/tape
POC Ventral Air helmet and Do Half Blade glasses
Jakroo kit
Ridge Supply socks
Osprey Hydration Pack – 2.5L Bladder
2 x 24oz bottles w/electrolytes + calories on bike
Handmade saddle bag and feed bag