Inbound to Unbound

🎶 Gravel roads. Take me home. To the place. I call home. Emporia, Kansas. Prairie mamma. Take me home. Gravel roads. 🎶

I’m fascinated by our interaction with the surface of this planet. Where the rubber meets the road. These small little contact patches, rolling over varied terrain, pinging along our gravel roads of yesterday, bring me so much joy. I find my competitive nature at a start and finish line being snuffed out. Transitioning to a shared experience gifted to us by each race director and route creator. Supported by every volunteer, and the communities we invade with our crazy spandex clan. 

I enjoy experiencing the varied definitions of gravel, and it’s one of the reasons I travel to race bikes. That Michigan sand. The Oklahoma red dirt. Virginia’s embedded rock. Class IV Vermont goodness. The steep wet logging roads of the PNW. Chonky western Illinois rollers. Colorado’s champagne gravel. And the seemingly endless Flint Hills. Paved roads are essentially the same. Gravel variation is the spice of life.

When planning my 2023 US tour, I came to a roadblock. How would I get from Bentonville after Rule of Three to Emporia by Wednesday before the XL? After a quick mapping, and realizing they aren’t actually that far – I threw it out there. What if I ride? My teammate could bring my bike bag and suitcase on Thursday. Our gracious hosts in Emporia could take me in a week early. My friend Dylan had offered up a route that he’d already done?! What’s stopping me? 

Getting to experience more? At my own pace? Yes, please. 

I set off after an espresso and croissant and rolled away from Bentonville, through the beautiful Coler trails. Arkansas roads weave around the landscape. I rode over and around, climbing back up and out, with the goal of knocking out a larger chunk of the mileage on day one.

The temps stayed moderate and the sky had “impending doom” splattered all over it. It felt like 6pm all day, with a darkness skirting along next to me. Yet, I only experienced five rain drops. The storm moved a little quicker than my pace and I eventually came across the wet roads. Nothing too muddy or impassable but I was putting in more work and getting a lot dirtier. 

When your only agenda of the day is to ride and eat, things are pretty simple. I briefly looked ahead at the route for refuel points, and mentally just rode from one to the next. I rarely looked at the mileage or time, just listening to my body and giving it what was required. 

I made it the 150 miles to Independence, KS after nearly 12 hours on the road. Checked into the first hotel I saw, conveniently next to a Mexican restaurant where I proceeded to enjoy a second dinner celebrating with a $2.50 margarita. On the rocks and with salt, of course.

I woke up on day two, a little slower than I’d have liked. But with less mileage and no agenda, I wasn’t too concerned. Ate a hotel breakfast of champions (Froot Loops) and was off. It took a bit to get into a groove again. A reroute due to an active road closure and cranky legs climbing up the major blip for the day early on had me feeling a little low. But nothing that a Red Bull and Casey’s breakfast pizza couldn’t fix. 

As the route continued further north, the familiar Flint Hills began to unfold like your grandma’s handmade quilt. Perfectly straight roads, but undulating like a flag in a breeze. Lots of cows. And baby calves too. 

Turning into Madison brought back memories of years past. I enjoyed one more slice of Casey’s pizza and an ice cream sandwich. You could say I’m performing a bit of quality control for the unofficial sponsor of Unbound XL. They’ve passed all the checks and are ready for our zombie looking, cleat walking, spandex wearing racers. 

I took a little short cut on the way in. I wanted to save the finish miles for next week. Another storm was brewing, and Mulready’s was calling. Kristi Mohn, the woman who paved the way for more women to be brave and show up at the Unbound start line, who has put in the work for not only women, but all marginalized groups, met me for a beer and that was that. Done. 

I pedaled 260 miles over two days. Burned a moderate 6,800 calories. Three Casey’s stops. Two cheeseburgers, nuggs and fries. Only one Coke. A second dinner. Lots of gummies + Airheads bites. And one great route designed by Dylan Morton.

This race. These roads. The community. It always feels like a homecoming when I first see the water tower. Kansas sometimes gets a bad wrap. “It’s flat,” says anyone who drives through on I70. But until you can experience the majestic rolling tall grass hills by bike, you don’t know Kansas. 

Emporia isn’t the middle of nowhere. It is a spot that is firmly planted in my heart.