As we, the collective gravel community, head towards Kansas, it’s natural to look back and reflect upon our journey to this start line. To look forward to predictions on how the day will unfold. To see the front of the race so ever present in our media channels. Who’s gonna win?
Beyond the {overly?} hyped world tour and gravel privateer pros, are so many more interesting stories. Having the guts to throw your name in the lottery is a win. Putting in the training = winning. Just getting to the start line is a win. From the local kids race to the last finisher in the wee hours of Sunday morning, every distance and participant should be celebrated because that’s what gravel is. A community where everyone matters.
Making it to the finish is never a guarantee. Emporia Main Street is earned, not given. Whether you are first or last, your journey to the finish will traverse over those same flint hills. And when you roll down that street, you’ll feel what it feels like to win.
Pre•pare (verb): make ready to do or deal with something.
Make ready. How has that gone? Have I made my body and mind ready to deal with the unknowns beyond 206 miles? Beyond 16 hours? I’m excited to find out.
As a collegiate swimmer, we prepared 20 hours a week for months on end, for a couple of 2 minute races. And I was a “middle distance” swimmer!
Heading into this XL adventure unknown, I reflect back to 2018. Every mile over 120 was a mile my body had never experienced before. And I celebrate every one. 127! New record. Wow 135!! I’ve never ridden this far! 150?! Mind blown. I kept pushing into that darn steady wind from the north, knowing I was setting personal bests every mile I conquered, every pedal stroke spun. In 2019, I wanted to perfect the distance as best I could with a lofty goal of beating the sun. In 2020, I rode a solo, self-supported DIYDK 200 mile journey around my home island while my husband was deployed to an island in the Middle East.
Although my journeys through Kansas {and back home} are solo efforts, they are definitely not so. Year one had Jon who saved my race and Troublemaker Corey who stuck with me for those last, lonely miles into the sunset and beyond. Year two, I got to introduce the flint hills to my Chicago friend Christine and ride with her for 130+ miles, while Kyle perfected the pits for us. In 2020, Jen, a woman who I had never met in person, set out a mini aid station for me on the south end of the island. And this year, Cynthia, my bestie, teammate, and East coast version of myself, roped me into the big kahuna.
My preparation for Unbound XL isn’t far off from how I’ve prepared for my previous two DK200 attempts. I’ve added in a few stacked days and some night riding. I’ve suffered through plenty of weather elements, although we work with what we’ve got here in the PNW. Swapping hot, Midwestern dirt, for frozen, rainy Olympic gravel, the prep is never perfect. And that’s what makes it fascinating.
Each journey has had unique challenges. And it’s these cumulative experiences that I’ll pull from when the tool box needs to come out.
Now here I am in 2021. Four thousand unspecific miles into this year; my legs are ready. I’m on an airplane {weird}, with Kiel Reijnen {!!}, heading to Kansas for my third time in search of a new chapter. Mostly I’ll be using autopilot. Eat. Drink. Pedal. And smile. Adapt and overcome. Every mile over 206 will be a new personal best. My body is amazing and I am capable of amazing feats.
Friday at 3pm, we set off for 357 miles of flint hills goodness. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for this unknown, Unbound journey ahead. Anticipation is the hardest part!
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