Sometimes things don’t exactly follow the plan. The plan may be perfect. It may be thought out, rehearsed, with all things on point, and it can still go sideways. Your fitness can be on point, the route researched, your choice of clothing can be spot on for the cold conditions, literally every contingency planned for… and yet it can still happen.
A throwback to the 2018 Standard Deluxe Dirt Road Century in Waverly, Alabama.
In spite of cool temperatures, pouring rain showers, mud and sand, smiles abound at the finish.
This is what riding gravel is all about.
Rolling out of Madison for the second time was a great feeling. I had a dry kit, and believe it or not, my shoes were not as soaked as I would have thought. Major kudos to Jacob Schwyn for the heads up about changing kits at each checkpoint. I had planned on just one change, but starting fresh after each stop was a little slice of heaven.
At some point during the first few miles here, I started to feel confident that I would make it in, as long as I didn’t do anything stupid like shred a tire on exposed flint in the dark. No, I didn’t worry about that at all. Nope, not me.
The miles were ticking down, and the gaps between everyone was larger than ever, but I could still see people up ahead and behind, enough to the point where I still had not yet had to rely solely on my own navigation. However, while I still had daylight, I thought it best to go ahead and fire up my iPhone just in case.
I roll out of town up a long straight paved road (like which roads in Kansas aren’t long and straight, am I right?) the pavement ends and it’s a long gradual uphill. I’m not even 20 miles out of town when I feel a rumbling in my stomach. I’ll spare you all the details, but that was the one contingency I didn’t plan for. Luckily there was a bridge in which to take care of matters, but please believe me when I tell you prairie grass is not your friend. (Pro tip: always sacrifice your socks first. Trust me.)
I’ll just leave that there.
Not even 10 minutes into this leg, just after leaving the checkpoint and changing into fresh kit, I cross the deepest water to that point, and totally soak my brand new dry socks. Son of a bitch. My brand new, completely DRY and comfortable socks and my Wig’s Wheels kit. Unfortunately I had rolled out and passed the couple of people that were nearby, so I didn’t see anyone ahead of me cross, and it turned out to be a lot deeper than it looked. Also, as luck would have it, I didn’t carry much speed into it, and therefore had to pedal through it, completely submerging not one but both feet underwater as I plowed through. Damn. Luckily it dried out fairly quickly, and wasn’t too much of a mental distraction, which was my main concern. 206 miles is a lot of time to think, and the slightest thing can become an issue if there isn’t anything else to concentrate on. However it dried, and crisis was avoided. For the time being…
Close to 60 miles in, looms is Texaco Hill. I use “looming” loosely as Texaco Hill is 5.6 miles in length, but it only gains 434 feet of elevation. I honestly didn’t realize I was on the climb until it dawned on me that I’d been going uphill for a good ways, and at that point, I was three fourths of the way to the top. That is one thing to be said for living in the Talladega National Forest. I’ll get 400 feet of gain on the first dirt climb, probably more. There was a pretty cool concrete bunker/shelter that was level with the ground with a metal stovepipe sticking out of it. I’m not sure that if it was an emergency shelter during storms for people working on the oil rigs there, but that is my guess.
We roll south on Main Street, and that’s when I realize how many people are out there. Shit, it’s 6:00 am, and the streets are covered. Both sides. Not with support crew personnel, but with locals. Emporia. The entire town. The town was there. Moms, dads, little kids, cell phones, all taking videos (although a lot of them vertical video, but I digress) That’s when it hits me. It really hits me. This shit is huge. I am once again part of something big. Just a small cog in this machine of DK, staring down 206 miles.
The following is for all intents and purposes, the origin of Gravel and Whiskey.
Although I didn’t know it at the time, the purchase of a cyclocross bike in the Fall of 2016 was the start of something big and important in my life.
Through the Fall of 2016, I had the recurring thought that there was something awesome on the horizon, and that I should chase whatever it was.
Fortunately or unfortunately, that something was the Dirty Kanza 200. The Grandaddy of all that is holy in the gravel cycling world.
I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
This is that story.
Land Run 100. March, 16th 2019.
Allison and I were lucky enough to secure and entry into this year’s Land Run 100, one of the monuments of gravel racing. I don’t think there is anything for me to add about the event that Bobby Wintle doesn’t say in the video above. An absolute masterpiece that captures the heart and soul of this event.
Test post to see what’s up in the Gravel and Whiskey world!
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