Overcast, rainy, rough terrain, ankle-deep mud, rolling hills, steep climbs, sharp flint, over 4000 athletes, 1 goal, finish alive.

I'm talking about the world's premier gravel cycling race, Lifetime's Unbound 200. It's held every June, in the flint hills of Kansas. There are various distances, 50, 100, 200, & 350 miles. The most popular and the one that people flock to is the 200-mile version. It's 200 miles of mostly rolling gravel roads. It's death by 1000 paper cuts. It's a game of attrition for most athletes. The pros have a different agenda, it's becoming the type of event where if you win it you could land a contract for the next 1-2 years. It attracts privateers and world tour pro's the same. The pointy end of the race is loaded with talent. However, that's not what draws the crowds. It's the magic of the challenge. Can you ride 200 miles across the chunky gravel, water crossings, and thick mud within 21 hours? 21 hours is the cut-off and there are other benchmarks too. Goals like beating the sun at 14h:45m, and beating the breakfast club; finishing before midnight. For some, the goal is to not dead yourself, lol. But this article isn't about reaching my goal; it's about failure and disappointment.

In December I was training for a short and punchy race, Cyclocross aka CX. If you're not familiar with CX, it's bicycle racing meets steeple chase. It involves some short running segments usually while carrying your bike and troloping through the mud. It helps to have a solid 5k running time under your belt. I was working out on a treadmill when it happened. I pushed too far, I thought I pulled something. It turned out to be more than a pulled muscle. I've been fighting to overcome it since then. Rest, Ice, Compression, and even prescribed drugs. The chiropractor helps me find relief too. In the end, it's still very painful and I exist on ibuprofen and Tylenol. So I had all but given up on myself. I've only logged half of the training miles that I normally would have preparing for this event. None of those miles involved any reasonable measure of intensity. Did I mention that my preferred class is Single Speed? I mean why not? If you're gonna race a 200-mile gravel event you might as well toss an anchor out and do everything in your power to make things hard on yourself. I was going to do it couch to Kansas style. It's reasonable to say I expected and anticipated failure.

In the days leading up to the race, I drove 30 hours from Florida to Kansas only stopping for a few hours of sleep along the way. We made the journey in a very uncomfortable cargo van. I've made this drive twice three times in the past. Only once was our rental van comfortable to pilot for the long drive. We pulled into town around 11 pm, we unloaded, got cleaned up, and went to sleep. The next morning I was able to stay in my normal routine. Up at 5 am and riding by 8 am. My goal was to preride the beginning of the course. After my ride, we headed out with friends to shoot some videos of our bud on the course. From there we headed to the expo where we were on our feet until dinnertime. That night I slept well. I had planned to ride the ending of the course but my friends wanted to join a vendor on a different route. I was keen on spending time with them so I opted to join them. Boy oh, boy did I quickly realize that I was in waaaaaay over my head. I was at my limits and hoping for this ride to end by mile 20. I was hoping for a softer pace, a regrouping, or a red light to pop up in the middle of these broken gravel roads. After that ride, I knew I was wasting not only my time but my wife's time too. That's when I entered a state of depression. I managed to stuff it down and lean on others, but, it was there.

On the morning of the race, I woke up at 3:45 am and made coffee. I knew that I was going to burn a ton of calories that day, 8000-10,000. I also know that I can only digest between 250-300 calories an hour. If I ate 300 calories for 20 hours I'd still fall short. So I embarked on my normal race day breakfast. Coca-cola, honey buns, pop tarts, and pancakes. Empty calories are loaded with fast-burning sugars. Prerace, I had eaten about 2000 calories. It was business as usual and my wife was not privy to the battle in my mind. I road with my friend from our air BnB towards the starting area. We had a 2-mile soft-pedal ride where we wished each other luck and I asked him to not wait on me. I knew what was about to happen and I didn't want him to sacrifice his day for me. We parted ways at the starting grid, I was a few rows behind him in the grid. My wife texted me "you're gonna do great. I'm already proud of you" I replied "I want to cry and vomit at the same time. I'm already in a dark place" She told me "heads up and rubber side down. I'll see you soon" After that I put my phone on do not disturb and opened pandora. I figured if I'm gonna suffer I might as well listen to some show tunes along the way.

The race was scheduled to start at 6 am, as the big digital clock near the starting truss ticked closer to the start time I grew more and more anxious. Just as we neared 6 am, my emotions were bubbling and then they announced a delay of 5 minutes. That 5 minutes felt like hours. Like I had come so close to the start of the race and was pushed back just out of reach. I knew that I wasn't prepared in the least and all I wanted to do was fail and fail fast. Eventually, the race started and as expected, I was hurting and we weren't 10 miles in. I told myself to make it to 20 miles and then we'd think about the next 20. This line of thinking became my plan of attack for the first part of the race. As we neared the first timing area at mile 42 I spotted a friend on the side of the trail changing a flat. I checked in with him and he told me he was good. He was right too, shortly after that he passed me and went down the road with a group. If it wasn't clear already, my friend's ability to race ahead of me, get a flat tire, repair it, then catch and pass me made it crystal clear that I was not ready for this race. Shortly after that, it started to rain, my mind was consumed with thoughts of my friend. I was headed toward a dark place and I couldn't find my way out. At some point, I knew that I had to stop fighting it and go through it. So as the rain fell I let myself cry. The rain was doing a pretty good job of hiding my emotions for me, I was grateful for that nature-driven effect.

I rolled into the first rest stop at mile 80 and my friends made quick work of cleaning my bike. My wife swapped out my bottles and hooked me up with sugars. She told me that I was doing great, I thought she was lying, but she wasn't. For 80 miles I had been waiting to fail and I was failing, at failing. I realized that I was on pace to set a personal record for the event and possibly even beat the sun. I began to ride with a new feeling, I rode at a velocity that leaned into that newfound goal. Around mile 120, it happened, I found myself in a train of people trudging through a mile of shoe-sucking, sloppy mud. My shoes were caked in mud, they weighed 10x more. The same mud was stuck to my bike and it felt like it weighed 60lbs. At the end of that muddy mile, we found a creek. 20-30 riders jumped into it and we used the rushing water to clean off our bikes. That mile of mud and the cleanup cost me an hour. It removed my goal of beating the sun but it made me realize that I was comfortably cruising towards a respectable finishing time.

At mile 150 I bumped into another friend resting on the side of a pretty banged-up road. I called out his name and asked what he needed. He told me that he was going to abandon the race. He said, "I pedal for 5 minutes and I need to rest for 5 minutes." I tried to convince him to ride with me to rest stop 2 at mile 162. No dice, he was beaten and his rescue car had just arrived. At this point, I knew I had to hold out and at least make it to the next rest stop.

When I finally rolled into the rest stop the team sprung into action, they cleaned my bike and rushed to adjust my number plate among other things. My wife made sure I had more sugars, fresh bottles, and cold watermelon. I had 38 miles to go and she reminded me that I ride 40 miles before most people even wake up. After riding 162 miles, the last 38 sounded short to me. I pressed on and started to make mental bargains with myself. The sun was setting as I climbed a small roller and a child standing on a round bale of hey shouted that I only had 26 miles to go. He said 26 and I heard "marathon." I turned my lights on and took a physical inventory, I had about 25 miles to go so I started willing myself to keep moving forward. I was telling myself, 5 more miles, ride 5 more and decide what to do next. Sometimes, I would have to say, "ride to the top of that next hill." When I hit the 195-mile mark I could the spotlights at the finish line. It was a beacon calling to me. It was like a moth to a flame. I knew I was going to make it. I needed to push a bit more. When I found myself nearing the local university campus and a "frenemy" on the last climb of the day I thought back to my previous finishes and the battles with this last climb. It's a bittersweet, steep leg ripper, 1 mile from the finish line. Highland Hill, it's one last punch in the gut for the day, the middle finger from the race director, a reminder that every inch of this race is punishing, including the home stretch. I was riding next to a couple of first-time riders, they were complaining about the last climb too. I looked at their gears and thought, if I had their gears I wouldn't be complaining. I was out of the saddle and crawling up the climb. I knew that this would be my final challenge of the day. We entered the finishing chute where the crowds cheered and the kids leaned over the barriers begging for a high-five. After all the miles ridden, I could muster up enough energy to hand out a couple of high-fives.

After 15:59:46 of flint hills gravel, I crossed the finish line. I was greeted by my wife and my friends. Disappointment is framed by expectations, it's important to remember that fact as we go into any event. If you set your expectations high and you fail, the result is ultimately going to be a disappointment. When I crossed the finish line my wife immediately reminded me that I failed. I started that day expecting to abandon the race. Somehow I survived, I failed to abandon, I failed to give up, I failed to quit. It's a reminder that we need to be realistic about potential outcomes. It turned out that my expectations were too low. I fully expect to fail and instead, I survived. More than this, I learned that I have the potential to beat the sun on a single-speed bike. I flirted with that goal and I'm not disappointed about missing it, this year. I went into the event expecting to erode and collapse on the side of the road. Anything greater than flat-out failure was a successful day.

Here are my takeaways, when it comes to physical challenges and you find yourself in a dark place, you can will yourself to finish. A strong mind will beat a strong body any day of the week. I couldn't have completed this ride without the support of my friends and especially my wife. They kept me motivated, fueled, and kept my bike clean. They're as much a part of the ride as I was. The same way a race car driver couldn't finish a race without their pit crew, I couldn't complete the race without them. I'm blown away by the support I received and have immense gratitude for each of them.

As always, thank you for taking the time to read this article. If you found it helpful or entertaining, please like, share, and/or subscribe. I'm a human being and I make mistakes. I'm sure this article is littered with many grammar mistakes. If you find any, please message me privately and I'll seek to correct them. In the next edition, I might have an update on the community-building project. As that project moves forward I'll bring you the news on the changes and the obstacles. Thank you for stopping by