It’s like coming home.

Every year when I make the trek to Unbound Gravel, it feels like I’m coming home. I know it may sound weird, but I love Emporia, KS. I’m mildly passionate about the Flint Hills. I’ve raced ~1475 miles all over this state, plus the countless training and bikepacking miles, and still see something new every time. 

I always find an unfamiliar part of myself out there, which keeps me coming back to learn more. 

Some of my proudest moments earned. Deepest efforts dug. Riding the highs and lows of life, and the lumpy roads ahead. Kansas gravel, this is my love letter. 

I still remember the nervous anticipation on the morning of June 2, 2018. The thunder and rain, our mechanic and friend Bobby switching me over to a wet chain lube. The extra 30 min for the delayed start allowed me to enjoy a coffee from Granada Roasters. I remember the smell of the crisp air from the north wind. I remember Jon helping me fix a jammed chain while I ate a banana. Reconnecting with Kyle only for him to get a flat soon after. My tandem friends. The headwind. The beauty and pain of the sunset as we all watched our hope of beating it slip below the horizon. The Chaise. The the bitter fuzzy taste of the roadside beer from a local. And Linda’s capture of our embrace. As we drove home, my grip strength couldn’t open a water bottle. But this race put a grip on my heart. 

In 2019 I came back hunting for that sun. And the sun tried its hardest to break me. It broke plenty of others. But there was something magical about that day. Riding with Christine. The surprise EF water oasis. Kyle, Jim, and Jenny crushing the feed zone. Cleaning the infamous Little Egypt road as others walked. Putting my head down after CP2 and proving my Garmin estimate wrong. I trained hard, put in the work, and was rewarded with one of my proudest accomplishments. I beat the sun by seven minutes. And cried my eyes out. 

2020 was DIYDK, and a solo 200 mile loop around our island. I got creative and made my own expo. I sent shirts and number plates to my teammates. The ride was fueled by a gas station, my friend Jen’s driveway aid station, and my garage pit stop. Kyle was riding his trainer in Bahrain and we both accomplished hard things. Together but separate. 

Unbound XL and the start of craziness. 2021 and a fear of the post Covid, 200 start madness, I said yes to a “more chill” ride. But what ensued had me digging deep into my bag-o-tricks to get it done as the 5th and final woman. Side by side with my friend, we grew together in a way only 357 miles can do. 

2022 and we head back south. Sunshine and cattle pens, a morning storm and afternoon mud slog, I swore it was over. I finished those 350 miles, and felt more empty than I should have. Depression has a way of diminishing accomplishments. Maybe I should’ve listened, but maybe going back in 2023 was another lesson I needed. 

These roads have given me more than I ever thought possible. Many smile filled miles, and yet some of the toughest moments. Last year brought much more walking, trudging, and forging forward. The weather and conditions brought me to a breaking point. Tired, scared, wet & now really cold, and one final dropped chain too many, I made the decision. I cried as I stopped my ride on the computer, crying big crocodile tears as I rode backwards on the course. Back to civilization and cell service to make a call I never thought I’d do. Kansas broke me at mile 275. My first Unbound DNF. It stung, but I wasn’t mad. It was the way Kansas made sure I had to come back again. 

And every time I come back, I feel like I’m coming home. Being a military spouse, “home” is a weird concept. Italians always ask “where are you from?” instead of “where do you live?” because to them, it’s the same thing. “I’m from Napoli, I live in Napoli.” For me, it’s very different. 

Home isn’t a specific place. Home is a feeling. Chris and Shannon open their home to me, and to our team, and this is a place where I feel home. Emporia, KS, where I’ve never had an address, feels like home. Anywhere with Kyle, feels like home. My sister’s house. Being with my parents. Velosmith. Gor, Spain. All home. And conversely, we own a house on Whidbey Island that even after I put in so much hard work, it never felt like home. Am I from there? Hell no. 

Who knows what the day(s) will bring come Friday at 3pm. This time I get to introduce Megsie, my teammate, to the amazingness of the XL. And as the adventure unfolds before us again, I’ll do my best to soak up and enjoy these Kansas roads, and this land we get to share and call home. 

Treat it with respect and you’ll be rewarded in return. Welcome home.