Pre-DK
About 4 months of planning & prep went into my goal of attempting the DK200. First my goal was to finish, then after the 70 mile preview ride in May I set a time goal (17 hrs) with the option to adjust as needed. If it wasn’t too hot I thought 16 hrs would be possible. My legs were feeling better than they had in almost a year. And then I rested completely from any exercise for 4 full days, mainly because I was too busy to fit it in.
Packing
Wednesday night I packed for my trip to leave on Thursday. My buddy (Lisa ;-) helped me, reading off my items as I packed. She knows how social interaction helps me do mundane tasks. Even Simon & Daisy played a role (supervising, distracting & getting in my way of course).
Friends & Hens
Lisa dropped me off at the station. She was incredibly helpful picking up my dinner, checking on my cats, & offering support. I owe my sis big!
On the train my bike was sandwiched between 3 other bikes. I was like a mother hen keeping an eye on it & making sure the derailleur didn’t get hit.
Small Bump in the Road
Brandon did an excellent job packing the Jeep in a logical manner. The shifting on my bike wasn’t so smooth at the end of my Monday ride but I didn’t have time all week to get it tweaked. I took it for a spin Thursday night & knew there was no way I could ride it like that. We took it by the shop Brandon uses & I was soon good to go. There was some cable stretch since Matt gave me a good overhaul so nothing major. But I was really stressed out about it until then.
Arrived in Emporia, grabbed a late lunch (Amanda’s cafe - yum!), walked the streets, ran into Wendy & Jim and then went to see the showing of Ride the Divide where we ran into other St.Louis folks. This movie definitely reminded me how I don’t enjoy being a solo rider if I don’t have to be. I’m a social creature and really thrive off of conversation or even just someone’s presence.
After final prepping in the hotel I was ready to try and get some sleep. I think I got about 5 hrs of sleep which isn’t bad.
Saturday is the Day
4:00am wake
It’s here, the challenge I chose for 2011. Just a year before it was on my radar (Sarah Worthington introduced me to it) but I passed it up and didn’t see the allure of it. Then this year Wendy asked if I was doing it. After some contemplating & not having any solid new goals for 2011, I placed myself on the waiting list & eventually got on the real list. So like most things I do I’ll give 110% or else it’s not worth my time. When the DK weekend was here I just hoped the investment & effort of me and all those who helped me get to this point really was worth it. I was wondering what lessons I’d have to take with me in the next 20 hours.
The DK experience:
Start
My stomach was full of butterflies but I felt calm when I was on the bike so I did circles near the start. I had to keep moving. ;-) At the start I squeezed into the middle of the pack next to Adventure Monkey and wished him well. “Eric, here’s to no leg cramps.”. I wanted to start with a moderate pace & not get caught behind squirrelly riders. I was in no hurry cause I knew it was a long day.
1ST LEG - 60 MILES - 4 HRS
For 15 miles I completely focused on safely riding in a few different pace lines. Finally I was able to look around & enjoy the scenery. Physically, I stayed aware of how my legs, back, shoulders, & breathing were doing. I gave some effort on a few hills but never hammered. I passed by Emily B (last year’s 1st place woman). She was off her bike dealing w/a mechanical and then caught up to me. I introduced myself & said I had read about her. She mentioned what went wrong mechanically but I didn’t quite catch it actually. It was hard to hear because of the wind. She said she was happy to see all the women this year & commented on the 1st place woman who was way ahead this year. I hung with her pack for 10 minutes or so then a good song came on that helped me up the hill so I forged ahead. I had my speaker playing music which really made it fun for me & other riders. Guys would sing along with some of the songs or comment, “Hey, got some Loverboy on there?” or “I’m waiting for a country song” or “I’m sticking with her all day.” The last section of the 1st leg (not sure how many miles) I caught up to the Salsa general manager & chatted with him. I happened along some other familiar faces along the way, too, and enjoyed the short chats. I felt soooo good going into the 1st checkpoint. I was out of water and it was hot but the wind helped keep you cooler. My legs were fresh, felt strong with just a little twinge of pain in the left knee. And I think I did an ok job with eating & drinking so far. Brandon did a great job setting up my pit stop. He tended to my every need & I’m so grateful. It was a quick stop, maybe 5 minutes or so but I didn’t keep track.
Some tunes on the playlist of 190 songs:
Angel on my bike
Another one bites the dust
Back on the chain gang
Bicycle race
Ride like the wind
Let the good times roll
Comfortably numb
Cruel summer
Don’t worry be happy
Dust in the wind
Everything will be alright
Cold as ice & Hot blooded
The hard road
I will survive
I’m alright
Just a ride
Pedal power
Loving every minute of it
Fly like an eagle
Take me home country roads
Who’s crying now
2ND LEG - 40 MILES (WELL, SORTA)
Accept the lonely ride
Based on how I felt the first leg I had confidence I’d knock the next section out in 3 hrs or so, depending on the heat. WRONG! The wind was noticeable and I found myself alone. Unlike the 1st leg, seeing riders was sporadic & most wanted to go faster up the hills than I was willing so I had no intention of grabbing their wheel. So besides saying a few words to a guy here or there, I was alone for the duration of this section. My average started to drop but I was hoping things would get better later in the day. I decided I would rather have more energy for later than use it all up now. Word is that it was somewhere between 95-99 degrees, but I don’t know. One good thing is that the gravel was smoother than what I had practiced on near Alma.
Bad Joke
At one point I was actually kind of bored so I called Brandon & left a message. See, we watched the “Ride the Divide” film & when a rider was ready to quit they had to call in to make it official. So I was teasing around & the message I left was, “OK, I QUIT! ........No, I’m just kidding” but the reception wasn’t good so I was worried he didn’t hear the kidding part. I went on to say I was bored & the call was disconnected. Worrying that he was going to come looking for me gave me something to think about. That meant I’d be disqualified. The scolding voice inside my head said: “Stupid joke, stupid joke, Steph. Don’t kid like that.” I guess he never got the call.
Which Way Do We Go?
I then came upon a group of riders gathered at an intersection questioning the route. Some had gone straight, but the guys were thinking it should be a right turn. A lot were needing water it seemed. And I was having a hard time eating at this point, but kept forcing myself to nibble on the Honey Stinger chews & my trail mix. I have no clue what mile we were at, maybe 75 or 80? We all made the right turn (the correct way) which had a sign that said “Low Maintenance Road.” I just wish I could have taken pictures of this road. A full suspension mountain bike was the appropriate bike for this, indeed. It was really rough with some manure-flavored water crossings. ;-) I had been bragging about my bottle cages & how snug they were. I think it was human error when one popped out after a descent & bump. A guy announced it & I said thanks, but just kept going. I’m guessing I just didn’t slide the bottle back down as far as it could go. It was a huge mistake for me to have left it, a full bottle w/300 calories. Stupid! It’s not like I had momentum and my pace would have been impacted. I just didn’t know how tough this leg would be. My rationale was if I used all my water on the 60 mile leg I wouldn’t need as much for the 40. Well I regretted that decision the entire time & kept saying that to myself! At that intersection I was with a large group, but most were fearless on that rough road so it put me at the back of the pack and alone again. I was just soooo glad I made it through there with no mechanical issues or flats! I loved my tires & was thanking my bike like an old man would talk to his “Betsy” car.
Breakdown is Coming
Every once in awhile I’d encounter guys from earlier in the day & they’d say, “Where’s the music?” after my speaker batteries were dead. My answer was short since I wasn’t feeling so great at all. “Batteries” I’d say. Around mile 85 or so I just remember longing for the checkpoint but every mile seemed to become more & more elusive, like a tease. I was virtually out of water and overheated, but not at the exhaustion level that I’ve experienced before. I didn’t know what I was going to do with no water and over an hour left of riding. I think this is when the race became more of a survival feat for me. My legs still felt great, but the wind & sun zapped the energy from me and I didn’t fight it. I just couldn’t figure out what was so hard about this 40 mile stretch.
Reflections:
I recall reflecting at this point. Knowing the checkpoint was near but every mile was still a challenge made me think about how hard it is sometimes just hanging on. You say to yourself, “Just a little longer. You’re almost there. After the next turn. Just over the next hill.”
Similarly...in life, when you get weary with stresses, hardships and challenges it seems that relief will never come. You’re not sure how much longer you can hold on, let alone be strong.
Each mile I was tempted to just stop because turning the pedals meant I had to endure the agony of defeat I was sensing & just the sheer depletion I was feeling in my body. I knew at the checkpoint the discomfort would stop & I would be relieved by the chill of the ice. But if I stopped pedaling I’d be further away from that comfort so what’s your choice? You keep pedaling, finding the strength which is fueled by the hope of things getting better.
In life, when it’s hard getting through the day just know you’re one day closer to things getting better. My quote: As bumpy as life is there is always something better down the road but you have to pedal to get there.
It begs the question: What truly brings you comfort? What is the source of your strength in life? Where do you place your hope?
“When things are bad, we take comfort in the thought that they could always be worse. And when they are, we find hope in the thought that things are so bad they have to get better.” -anonymous author
Breakdown is Here
At mile 96 I recall seeing a car (coming to pull his rider off the course apparently) & asking how much further it was and he said about 5 miles. The markings took me to what appeared to be a dead end at a ranch. I immediately had a feeling of despair and pure exhaustion, put my head down on my handlebars and had my only true breakdown of the event. I whimpered a little, but no crocodile tears. I was hot & figured possibly lost since I couldn’t see any markings. Another rider appeared and another and another. I was out of fluids so a STL crony gave me one of his with some pretty tasty pink stuff. I’m so grateful. We then found a well where I was able to get more water and also douse my head in it to cool off.
Extra Miles
We all searched the property and couldn’t find the way out so we backtracked to another road that was thought to be it (same direction just about 100 yards up). We still questioned our decision because the marker indicated to go toward the ranch, but we thought maybe someone moved that too. We made our turn in the right direction (I don’t even recall any signs on these roads), which took us to a paved hwy. with no markings. Kevin made the call to go right cause he saw some orange markings but once we got there they were cones for construction. ;-) He & Emily kept going but the guys behind me said we were going the wrong way. We yelled to try to get them to stop but I guess they went further. So me and a group of guys turned around to head to Florence on the hwy. Me and another guy (didn’t get his name) dropped the small pack and rode together, thinking it couldn’t be far. He was an older guy from Colorado. I said, “I thought Colorado had everything to offer a cyclist.” His answer: “Nope, not this.” I saw an orange arrow so we made a right and followed it until he said, “This has to be wrong.” Others followed us & he realized we were probably on the 3rd leg so we backtracked, following the orange arrows back to the 2nd checkpoint. He mentioned that we were probably already disqualified because we were off course and I can’t tell you how I felt when I heard that. I thought it was over. Why should I continue if on the results I’m DNF or disqualified? I was thinking, “Should I just go to finish regardless?” I was feeling so frustrated. My computer read 106 miles. I was totally defeated & wondered if it was worth it to go on. Fun? Not anymore unfortunately; not for me.
Pitstop 2
I arrived @ 2:15, at least an hour after I expected to. Brandon filled me in on the fact that a lot happened to riders on that leg and many were quitting. I was not calm, but Brandon stayed very calm & said that more riders than not were getting lost & coming into the checkpoint the wrong direction so then I was hopeful. It seemed pretty obvious but no one questioned. The heat had gotten to me so my mood was altered (very irritated), but once I got some ice on me and Brandon offered me some grapes & watermelon I was so much better. 15 minutes into the checkpoint stop Brandon asked if I checked in (oops, I hadn’t) so I went to do that. My plan was to eat a sandwich at the 1/2 way point, but that just wasn’t happening. During the 2nd leg I was starting to lose my appetite already and was maybe eating 1/3 the calories I had with me during each leg so far. I ate 2 pickle slices, some fruit, few animal crackers, slice of pumpkin bread, & drank some OJ. I also changed my shorts. Not sure how long I was there, but maybe 30 min. After being rejuvenated Brandon swapped my charged speaker on the bike (took care of so many details for me) & I turned the tunes up w/a Nelly song & left the checkpoint ready for the next leg, but I wasn’t ready for what was going to happen.
3RD LEG - 60 MILES
Baked Like a Ravioli
I left the checkpoint (alone) w/ice in bottles & 70 oz bladder but right away the sun was just cooking me and zapping my energy. Brandon put some ice in my jersey pocket which was nice cause I was able to reach back and actually eat some ice. Somewhere along here I walked a hill (the only one for the duration of the event). It was steep. I just kept saying to myself, “I need to get out of this sun.” A little wispy cloud would shade the sun for a few seconds & at that point I said, “I just wish it would rain.” Then Adventure Monkeys words earlier in the week reminded me that the Flint Hills dirt was like clay so rain would be a disaster. I remember looking at my watch and just wishing I could make it to the 6:00 point when things would cool down, but that was still hours away. :( I found a little tree with some shade & stopped for a quick pee (first one all day) which might have been a few tbsp seriously. A guy asked if I was ok & I just commented I needed a little shade. Later I think he stopped so we rode together a little. He was a younger guy from Texas. 3 guys flew by us but he saw a few guys behind and said, “Hey, I think this would be a good group for us to ride with so we can get the speed up.” It took awhile but they appeared and at that point everyone was looking for water, something cold! The creeks were dried up or brown in color with no flowing water.
Kickin’ it in the Creek
Finally we happened upon a better looking one with easy access. They kept going but I had been dreaming of a place to cool off. A familiar face was sitting there. I said, “I’m getting in.” He said, “Ya, I was thinking about whether I should or not?” “What’s there to think about?” was my response. So I now had a soaking buddy. So another guy would come along & joined us, another and another. It was so great. I got in with socks & all and submerged myself. It was probably a 15+ min break but we were desperate. At this point it really, really, really wasn’t a race anymore, but instead just trying to manage the symptoms brought on by the heat. I asked the guy (Mitch) how I knew him. I’m so embarrassed that I knew him from Dino 24 & Bone Bender but didn’t realize it. I’m just terrible with names, but never forget a face. So we took off together but he wanted to take the hills harder than I did so I was alone again.
The Storm
Out of nowhere appeared some dark clouds and these spouts you could tell were rain showers, reaching from the base of the cloud to the ground, but they favor the resemblance to a tornado. There were like 3 of them and then it seemed like the clouds were kind of surrounding
me on all sides. The temps dropped at least 20-30 degrees in an instant, which freaked me out. The guys who had stopped at the creek passed me and just took off. I was going to blow my whistle and beg them to stay with me because I really feared a bad storm. I was scared. The lightning strikes were bright white & close - yikes! I looked behind me and there was no one. I was thinking about what I would do if a tornado hit but all I could see was a barbed wire fence on either side. I talked to God about the scenario. Every once in awhile you’d see a tree not near a fence, then I spotted some very deep ditches out in the field, which was my shelter choice if I needed it. I was wondering if I should stay to take cover or go ahead where there may not be any ditches. I then came upon Mitch again, alongside the road this time. He was having dry heaves & was dizzy. I checked with him and said I felt bad leaving him in a storm but he said he was covered. He would call his wife if he needed & had his GPS on to tell her where he was. I told him about the deep ditches I observed in the field if he needed it. I took off and a rider behind me came along. “I’m so glad you’re here. Maybe we can ride together. I don’t want to die alone.” ;-) I was teasing with him, but at the same time the comfort of the companionship of another experiencing the storm with me was a huge relief. He had a Team Red Wheel jersey on so I asked if he knew Wendy & Jim Davis, which he did. He told me he was on a team doing the 2nd section so I told him if he had a time goal then not to let me hold him up. Then the storm started up. The wind blew me pretty violently and we were hailed on, ouch! I stopped real quick under a tree to put my electronics in a ziploc. He went on without me. :(
Reflections:
My self-reliance was tested. I remember the overwhelming feeling of being alone and scared. After the Joplin tornadoes I was taking those rain sheets seriously. Anything could happen and I was so fragile out there, just a leaf in the wind surrounded by the open, unprotected landscape of the Kansas prairie. I was reminded of 2 realities that balance themselves out:
- When it comes down to it, you are alone. At least that is true in a physical sense according to my worldview. My Creator is always with me and my cries are heard. I was scared but at the same time I had a peace and accepted the circumstances. We can’t always reach out for a human hand to help us because in the most basic sense we’re all pretty helpless & vulnerable. I can’t always find a way around the storm but when I have to go through the storm He walks with me. No matter how strong I think I am, my self-reliance can not help me through every challenge but trusting, surrendering & relying on the Keeper of my heart ALWAYS helps me through. He helps me not only to survive my challenges, but to learn from them and to find something good.
- There is comfort in companionship. It’s like the story of the group of people in the gas station freezer during the Joplin tornado. One guy was saying, “I love you guys. I love everyone.” and he didn’t even know these people. He reached out & connected with his fellow man because that’s how we’re wired. We have an innate need to belong and connect. We find comfort in our commonalities and shared human experience, the high and low moments. Even though people can not tell us the mysteries of life, don’t usually have the answers, can’t truly understand us, can’t meet all of our deepest desires and needs, & eventually abandon us by that thing called death...we still need them. I’m an only child but I’m not an island. I have a hard time trusting people, but I need to trust. I need a smile, approval. I need kindness, a tender touch. I spent many childhood years soaking the pillow with my tears, suffering in silence. But I need to share laughs and tears with others, find solace. That doesn’t make me weak. It just makes me human.
Take Cover
I got back on the bike & started to pedal. About that time Mitch & a few other guys along with Emily B showed up on the scene so we all took cover under a large tree next to one of the few houses we saw all day long. Now I’m soaked to the bone and shivering, covered in chills. The wind blew so hard & the rain pelted sideways but it didn’t take long before we could see the sky again. We got back on the bikes with an overcast sky (thankfully) and Emily just took off like a rocket.
Hike-a-Bike
She was the first to encounter the sticky clay-like, peanut butter-like mud that was our road to follow to the next checkpoint, about 30 miles ahead. She was carrying her bike at first. If you rolled the bike even in the center that seemed to be rock and grass within seconds you had wheels covered in mud that was thick and sticky, and then your brakes were caked and it was impossible to make forward motion. So there was a lot of bike cleaning going on. There were no sticks around really so you had to use your hand and try to clear it away. I actually was hoping that my bike would get so screwed up from the mud that it wouldn’t work anymore & I’d have a good excuse to quit. When there were muddle puddles it helped to try to dissolve the mud and clear the tires. My bike was so heavy with the MUD, filled mountain feed bags, tangle bag (70 oz) and water bottles but at some points carrying it was the only option. The bike was so heavy that I couldn’t lift it so I’d get down on my knees, lean the bike on my back, find 2 spots to hold onto it & then lift myself up. I thought my quads & knees would explode. ;-) On a couple of occasions I was swiping my bike frame then slinging mud like a 3-year old throwing a tantrum, then I’d just yell out in frustration. I’m sure those who could hear knew exactly what I was feeling.
Surprisingly enough, my problematic trapezoids didn’t bother me much but my lower back had been. Through trial and error those in front of me figured it was easier to push the bike in the tall grass on the side of the road. They were all making much faster progress than I. The feet & bikes created a path, pressing the grass down. At times I was walking in thick mud that almost stole my shoes right off my feet. Other times I was walking through a stream and once my bike tire hit a barbed wire fence I hadn’t noticed.
The Twilight Zone
The energy expended pushing or carrying the muddy bike threw me off. I lost track of time and forgot to eat or drink. I was just focused on going forward, kind of like a robot. I didn’t know what else to do. I started to swell up & my watch got tight so I just took it off, and I somehow hit the Cateye & reset my mileage so I’m just going based on what the guys were saying. We walked from mile 130-135 approximately. There was no way a vehicle could travel the roads so we were all kinda stuck with nothing to do but keep moving. I really did feel like I was in a Twilight Zone episode. I’d go 100 yards and think for sure we’d be able to ride soon. Every once in awhile you’d see a bike tire where someone tried riding, then you’d see shoe prints back to the side where the grass was (they had to pick up the bike and carry) ;-). At one point I figured riding in the grass might be possible. At least I’d be going faster than 3 mph. On the bike I’d go 5 mph until I’d hit soft spots that put so much load on the legs that it just didn’t make sense to keep that up. The thoughts that go through your mind is: This is no longer a bike race or ride. I didn’t train for a hike-a-bike. I want to ride my bike but I don’t even have the choice to. I remembered back to my 10 mile clay-muddy hike-a-bike in TN @ DSG but at least the finish line was 10 miles away. In this case I was 30 miles away, had cutoffs and also a total of 70 miles to go to the finish. Another “pusher” (not rider) caught up to me & we walked together awhile. I took some pics with the phone in the baggy (since my hands were so muddy) but they didn’t turn out so great. Up ahead we saw an intersection with a truck leaving with some riders. He started yelling and waving his arms almost as if we were being deserted, like you see in retelling of survival stories. I got my whistle out & blew but the truck kept getting smaller as it drove off without us. Then 75 yards out you could see there were other riders waiting around. Before too long there were 8 of us or so sitting in the grass. I still couldn’t get phone service but some were calling their sag and said they’d be happy to take as many people as they could. We got word that they were sending Jeeps out to get us because no vehicles could drive on the roads (they’d get stuck). We all said, “Is it over? Are we done? Are they calling the race? What’s up?” I thought about how much time I had put into this and how much effort Brandon had gone through with his labor. I figured I had spent about $1000 toward this event. And now it’s going to end like this, something out of my control? The group wasn’t too down. Attitudes were pretty good as we sat there in the wet grass not knowing our fate. In the back of my mind I was hoping that the mud had damaged my drivetrain to the point that I couldn’t ride it, then I’d have a better reason for quitting.
The Rescue?
Then off in the distance was a Jeep. We thought it was the rescue Jeep sent to us, but as it got closer I saw that it was Brandon. It’s funny ‘cause it was really like I was on a stranded island and he was like the helicopter that was here to take me back home after going a week with no water or food, & escaping a bear attack. ;-) I said, “So what’s the deal? Are we finished?” He matter-of-a-factly showed us the route and said which sections were thought to be muddy & which were dry based on the path of the storm. He estimated we might have 2 more miles of muddy stretches but couldn’t be sure. To us that was too much and too uncertain. We had just spent an estimated 5 miles walking and couldn’t imagine another 1/2 mile even. In the meantime a few other vehicles appeared from another direction. They weren’t able to follow Brandon because of the mud. His Jeep tires even had trouble. Some guys were bailing & getting rides from their support. They offered us homemade granola bars & Gatorade. I gladly accepted. There were a few guys that still had the fire. We learned that there was a re-route the directors approved, which was about 8 miles of dry gravel, a right turn and 17 miles of highway. Brandon was totally confident we could do it, make the checkpoint and proceed to the finish. If all the guys bailed I would have or I would have ridden to the checkpoint and then bailed because the last section was in the dark and I learned that most of the riders had already taken themselves out of the race. So this wasn’t a rescue, really. It was great to see his face and finally know what was going on. In the back of my mind I allowed a little thought in which suggested that I load up the bike and call it a day, but I didn’t let the words leave my lips. It was hard rejecting the comfort of the Jeep. All I needed to know was that it was possible to make the cutoff and my mind & body were still in the game.
Reflections:
I came to challenge myself, not the field of competition. I came to learn something and to nudge myself toward perseverance even when I easily had a dozen legit reasons to quit. See, quitting is one of my demons. As a teenager I never stuck with anything when it got hard. I wasn’t taught to, encouraged to, or forced to. When things got hard I looked for the easy way out. I never toughed things out, or maybe I did as a young child and that’s why I gave up so easily as a teen...because I was worn out by that time. I was tough as nails as a young kid, enduring more than a kid should have to and very much alone through it all. As a teen I think I accepted defeat as my path. I had no strength left to fight. At school I failed. On the cross country team I think during the whole season I only finished 2 races and the rest I bailed after 2 miles. Who does that?!? It was always ok with everyone that I failed. No one had higher expectations of me, nor did I. To deal with my problems I turned to substance abuse, which only made things worse. And the ultimate sign of giving up, suicide, I was on the verge of attempting. If it weren’t for God’s grace and intervention, and the concern of one friend, who knows where I’d be. Now, all these years later it’s like I’m strengthening that perseverance muscle so that I can get through the trials of life that are yet to come.
I also realize that to learn something about myself in itself is useless. What do I really gain? But what’s more important is that whatever I do learn about myself, what are the implications? How does it impact my relationships? If I learn that I’m impatient, how have I hurt others with that flaw of mine? If I learn to be patience and perseverant in a bike race it’s for nothing UNLESS I actually apply that lesson in my real life with people I encounter, those I deeply love, and even with my students.
I learned that I have spirit, the will, the strength to endure. Now let’s take and apply that to the next tough circumstance life throws my way. Let’s use that endurance to persevere with a friend who is going through a tough time. Let them lean on me. And at the same time, I have strength but it’s not bullet-proof. It’s not unbreakable. It relents when it needs to. I acknowledge that I have needs too. I have weaknesses. I’ll always be dependent upon One, the One who saved me from myself 22 years ago & on a daily basis ever since.
Plan B
So about 5 guys and myself set off on the designated route, plan B, but we didn’t start together. The TX boys took off, then some distance between them and me, then some distance between me and TN boy. Further back were two guys (one single speed) that probably weren’t going to keep our pace. While still on gravel the sun started to set & soon our lights had to come on. My drivetrain sounded like a rock grinder and I couldn’t ride in certain gears. I got to the highway & the Texans were waiting for me & the next guy. We thought the 6 of us could work together & make up some time for the remaining 17 miles to town, but it ended up just being the 4 of us. The two Texans were young & spunky and were pulling at a pace that the fella from TN couldn’t maintain so he’d drop off. I was feeling the same way at times. They’d back off saying it made more sense for us all to stick together. I took my turn to pull and gave it a long, strong effort. My legs felt pretty good, but was fighting fatigue after the whole ordeal so each mile was still a struggle. The last few miles the youngins gunned it, though, leaving just the two of us. We made a pact at that time to ride together to the end after a 30 min stop, figuring we’d be alone if not.
Last checkpoint
It was an incredible relief to finally reach the checkpoint. It was 9:30pm. Still numerous supporters were there and many wanted to hear my story about the storm. I shared a little and then Brandon tried to get me on track, thinking about what I needed to do to get going. I was distracted by the conversation, go figure. ;-)
I needed something to drink and eat, but I also needed to get my lights on, see if the bike was ok, and change clothes. Brandon gave me a Dr. Pepper I think, then hosed my legs and arms down. Then the next thing I knew I was at my pitstop and a very worried Lisa was on the speaker phone. It was great to her her voice! I talked to her a bit and let her listen in on what was going on as I talked to Brandon & others nearby. I changed into my Pfoodman kit and put new socks and shoes on while Brandon cleaned off my bike, lubed the chain, switched out the lights, gave me more fuel, etc. He said it was shifting fine for him (darn!).
4TH LEG - 40 MILES
Only 40 miles to go?
After a longer stop than expected my TN buddy was patiently waiting for me to start rolling. We began our dark 40 mile trek on a narrow trail, then onto more hilly gravel roads. It didn’t take 5 minutes for me to have another regret. I should have brought extra light batteries with me on this leg. I brought all kinds of lights but why didn’t I take them with me? So I decided I’d need to conserve light by switching one at a time rather than using both at the same time. Anything could happen & I’d need more light (oops!). Navigating was easiest during this leg. It was pretty easy to spot the orange arrows and reflective posts. From behind two guys joined us. Guess who?! The young dudes from TX! For some reason they decided to ride with us so it looked like the four of us were going to finish this out together. Man was it tough - just fatigue and hill after hill. About now is when the gravel was taking a toll on my hands. I couldn’t find a comfortable spot on the handlebars. A couple of us were sick to our stomachs, having a hard time eating and drinking, & there was plenty of groans. We all took turns being in the front at varying times. We stopped a couple times for a potty break or whatever. The guys were great. Once I saw the Emporia lights from a distance I was going to tell them to just go ahead, not to wait for me...even the TN friend that I made the pact with. Even if the finish was still an hour away, I felt safe and wasn’t too worried as I imagined I’d be (Adventure Monkey’s blog had me all worried about stealthy creatures out there waiting to devour me). But I guess I didn’t have the energy to tell that to the guys.
Blinky
We could see flickering red lights ahead, far ahead but then we keep getting closer to them and finally catch 2 riders that the trail lights belonged to. One was a female and I had no clue who she was, if she was solo or on a team. I hadn't seen her all day. So they were obviously slowing down since we caught up. I don't recall any of us talking to them or them talking to us. We came to a little town & we were all questioning which way to go. A guy says "this way" and then I looked down to see an orange arrow and confirm we're going the right way. We weren't really in a pace line (kind of a sloppy 2-3 abreast grouping) but my recollection is we were with these 2 for maybe 15 minutes when the 2 younger studs from TX turned up the turbo and left the pack. I knew I had a decision. Either I sit with this group and go their pace or I see what I have left. Since I had seen the Emporia lights I had renewed energy even though I had no idea how many miles were left to go.
It’s My Time
All day I was looking forward to the 2nd half cause on leg 2 things were falling apart for me. So now was my time to push myself. In my mind the wrong thing would be to stay behind the group and then somehow try to cross before them. I thought to myself, “Should I talk to TN & let him know. Will he be mad?” But everyone was so quiet at this point. We were all hanging on, blending in with the void & quiet of the darkness. Who knows what was going on all of our minds after such an epic day.
My reasons for breaking away:
- I had been solo for the 2nd leg & first part of the 3rd leg. This was still my race, my challenge, not a team effort.
- I knew town was close and I wasn't too scared - the lights gave me confidence.
- My legs & spirit felt good.
- I figured the TN dude would be ok since we were so close.
So in my mind I had to go for it. Anyone could have followed or chased me but no one did. I then faced headwind and I knew any minute the group would catch me but I didn’t look back. They had every right to whiz by me & wish me luck as I dropped off the back exhausted for trying to make a solo break away. So be it if that's what happens. I was ready for my fate. No matter what I knew I’d make it even if I came crawling in...but I had to go for it! It’s just like the TX guys. Twice they were our companions for a long duration, but then when it got close they pushed the accelerator and did their “thang.”
Tension is Building
I pushed and pushed alone in the dark, in the howling wind. My heart is racing as I just wait to be swallowed up by the group behind me. I didn't look back for awhile because I knew it’d be a crushing blow. I'm guessing I was out there for 30 min riding after I broke away but since my mileage was screwed up and I took my watch off, I really don't know. I just noticed that the Emporia lights were getting closer but very slowly - maybe it was much further away than I realized. I’d go straight in the headwind, then make a left and it felt like crosswind, straight, left, zigzagging my way to town. My legs felt the resistance of the wind, but I had reserved a kick for the end and it was finally here. I found the courage to look back and the bike headlights were actually fading further away in the distance. I couldn’t believe it and didn’t expect that. I felt bad for my TN friend and knew I’d owe him an apology. What would anyone else have done in this situation?
A Mile Away...1/2 Mile Away...I’m There!
I saw the town and I was elated. It was pavement & orange spray painted signs that led me down a lit but empty street, through the college campus, and then down the main drag where the finish line was. When I saw the theater I stood up & cranked it up to 22 mph and finally felt like I was racing, not surviving. I can’t believe I didn’t cry. I crossed my leg over the seat like I was doing a cyclocross dismount. Time: 1:12am. It was apparent to me that I didn’t get to leave it all out on the course. I had more left in the legs. I’m sure I owe that to the relief my 3 buddies offered since the hike-a-bike section. At the finish were still several people waiting for their riders & even some racers (like Barbie & Adventure Monkey) who just wanted to congratulate the finishers. I heard cheers. I heard, “There’s St.Louis!” The TX guys gave me that nickname. ;-) They had finished a minute or so before me. Someone took my bike and told me to have a seat. They asked me if I had seen some other riders, etc. I was out of it and looking around for Brandon. I didn’t really get to give him a proper hug in that moment for all he had done. I heard Barbie’s story and I really couldn’t believe it. How could it be so easy for them? It was obvious to me that talent didn’t get me across the finish line; more like stubbornness and mind numbness, some good fortune and a little perseverance & camaraderie. Even though I only saw Brandon a few times during the course of the day, every single little thing he did made a huge difference for me. Through this experience we learned we make a pretty good team (we've been dating long distance for 7 months).
Bittersweet
At the finish I regretted not talking my decision over with my TN friend beforehand since we made the pact & earlier he said he wouldn’t leave me. There was no celebrating in my heart or on my face. My heart was heavy all week with that and the Ranch mix-up that got me off course a little bit. I wondered if I should have been disqualified. I contacted Jim Cummins, DK200 Director, 5 days after the race, to clear my conscience and I almost cried at his response:
“You put in an amazing effort last Saturday. You are a legit Dirty Kanza 200 Finisher. We are proud of you, and look forward to seeing you again in 2012. Fill that DK200 Finisher glass with your favorite Pale Ale, and give yourself a toast.”
Reflections:
I’m trying to accept that my best is enough. I grew up with a “black & white” “all or nothing” mindset, which served to sabotage my most sincere efforts. I’m working on going out there and giving it my best on the bike, regardless of my position compared to others - regardless if it means a podium or not. Likewise, in life, I go out there and give it my best, and try to be the best me I can be. I still have a lot to learn so plenty of reasons to keep pedaling. ;-)
There are many strong riders who pulled up to that start line and somewhere along the course either got unlucky or just didn’t have enough reason to pull through...this time. I don’t doubt their resilience. To fight the DK200 fight, whether with 60, 100, or 207 miles takes guts. We all learned something about ourselves and cherish the memories. Sometimes quitting is necessary and even wise. It’s not the same as defeat. Defeat is WANTING but never stepping up to the start line even though you have the means to.
That’s my two cents. Are you still awake? heehee ;-)
