Jeff Bonsall has to be sick of me...
...and
Mike Beck can't be too far behind.
The three of us killed off a fun and somewhat strange Dirty
Kanza 200 together, with Jeff and I closing out the final 100 together and Mike joining us for the last 70 or so. Anyone who will put up with my antics for that amount of time deserves a 'thank you' so thanks fellas.
The start of the day should have told me it might be a day of misadventures. As we gathered under the threat of thunderstorms, I pulled my camera out to take some shots of our extended Lincoln crew and other gravel grinder friendlies, only to be greeted by "No Memory Card" on the screen. Ah, genius.
The Heartland guys announced that they were considering delaying the race for two hours due to storms and two things instantly popped into my mind. 'I don't have the right lights for that' and 'Hey, we have time to get espresso.' In fact, Jeff and I were a touch disappointed once Craig from Heartland came out and said we were rolling on time. Such is the nature of addiction.
The
roll out at
DK is something I thoroughly enjoy. As the course was nearly identical from last year, we went from spinning through town to pulling off onto a semi-rough gravel road; a line of racers in each smoothed out tire track. This year, Cameron, Corey and I had been talking right as we were hitting the gravel and Cam pulled his glasses off of the back of his helmet and put them on. "Must be game time," I said to Corey with a smile.
The race stayed together for a few more miles, but then a couple of hills hit and things started to split. I was just off the back of the lead group and found myself riding with Ben
Thorton who rides for
SoulCraft and was also riding a single speed. We each dangled off the back at a slightly different paces but after finding ourselves too spun out on some slight downhills to stay with the group ended up riding together. It was pretty clear Ben was a workhorse and fairly interesting to talk to and we were starting to form an unspoken partnership. Unfortunately for both of us, our partnership failed to included good navigation in its terms of agreement. Just before the first checkpoint, we turned South a mile too early after seeing flagging that must have had nothing to do with the race. It was the usual story of riding, losing confidence that you are on the right path, then coming to the depressing decision that you need to turn back. Three or four miles later we were back on course and moving back through the field.
As we hit the first checkpoint, Ben asked me if I needed anything before we went, which I took as a great sign for the rest of the race. I was back to my 'go light' strategy for this race which meant I had three bottles that I would need to refill at each stop. It's a great plan if the timing works and you don't get lost or lose time in some other way...
Ben and I rolled out of the
CP and were working our way through the field when we again blew a turn. We had caught up to another single speeder name Dustin who I had vaguely recognized from last year. As we climbed a small incline, Ben rode forward, I was just back from him and Dustin slowly faded back. It turned out, he had realized our mistake. Moments later I looked back to see a small speck on top of a hill turning around. A quick look at the map and the sun told me we were heading South and again making a mess of things. I yelled for Ben, but he couldn't hear me so I spun back around and went back to find the yellow brick road.
From there, I just kept working my way back up the field. Generally, I take pride in navigation and just simply paying attention, but had now blown it twice. That, combined with the fact I felt strong but knew I was wasting it left me seeing red for a while. Ben was obviously feeling the same because he caught back up to me at the end of a climb and kept powering. We exchanged comments of frustration. I made sure to tell him I had yelled for him but I think he too was in the mode where anger is an energy and kept pressing forward.
Shortly afterward, I found myself passing Jeff. Still seeing a bit of red, I said 'Hi", muttered something about being a navigational jackass and kept churning. A few minutes later, I felt like a douche-bag for not saying more.
I finally snapped back to it when I ran out of water. It was still far enough away from Cottonwood Falls that I really needed more. Last year, Corey and I had stopped with Cameron to get water from a house off the road. It worked then. It would work here. Or, so I thought. The
spicket didn't give a drop. I tried another house and got another dry
spicket. "It's like a ghost town," I thought and took off again deciding not to worry about water until the Checkpoint. I felt a little
crampy on arrival, but thought a smart pit stop would take care of it.
I tried to be pretty efficient, but polite to the race organizers and volunteers. Debbie Sue was there lending a hand and let me use her phone for a quick check-in to
Mrs. Snob as I had no service. Jeff rolled up in good fashion and we decided to roll out together. I tried to rehydrate as Jeff gathered what he needed for the third leg and we were off in 3rd and 4
th for the SS category and around 20
th overall.
Jeff commented early that he would understand if I wanted to take off. I thought I would see if the
crampy feeling subsided and ride with a friend for a while. I still felt very good and a part of me still wanted to see how many people I could catch. Another part of me simply felt happy for knowing I was back after a
TransIowa where I felt pretty
sub par. The only thing to gain was 'places' so why not hang with Jeff.
Unfortunately, the muscle problems didn't hit me, they hit Jeff. Near the mid-center of his back, muscles near his ribs were knotting up. Anytime he went to breathe hard, he was getting sharp pains and could only take shallow breaths. Nothing anyone wants to feel, let along a single-speeder who needs to crank it up the climbs.
We pushed on with Jeff stopping to stretch from time to time. I started making jokes to try to lighten the mood and offered him a massage by holding up my hands, wiggling my fingers and offering him the "Magic Touch."
Just beyond half way through the 3rd section,
Mike Beck caught up to us. He was rocking the steady strong pace and looking good. A perfect third stooge to ride with.
As we neared the end of the first loop, we stopped at the base of a difficult, steep climb. Jeff seemed pretty down, but did let me give him 'the bad touch' and I tried to work the knots out of his back. I even considered tying two tubes together for a tow, but he didn't need it. We worked the climb like champs and cruised a long paved downhill back toward Cottonwood Falls. Along the way, I was trying to come up with some good comedic material to brighten Jeff's mood, including screaming out, "Death, you are my bitch lover!!" It may have been more annoying than anything else, but my thought was that when you feel like shit, often anything helps.
Without a hitch, we rolled out for the last section and continued to ride, chat and have a good time. Over the last ten miles, Jeff hit a second wind and freaking dropped the hammer. I was riding beside him and thinking 'damn man, you're back in full force and putting the hurt on me.'
The three of us crossed the line, had some cowbells handed to us and shared smiles and handshakes with the Heartland guys and
MG and
Corey, who had great rides of their own (and blogs to tell the tale). MW and Butch weren't long to follow and the usual suspects enjoyed another successful
Kanza.
To be blunt about it, I love this race. The logistics, the scenery, the people, banging across jagged rocks on cross tires, dodging cows, watching dung beetles roll balls across the road, all of it.