My hummus recipe

I've had a few requests recently for my hummus recipe. Ryan, for some reason, thinks it tastes like baloney, though I have no idea what he's talking about and can assure you it's fully vegan. Apologies to people who work with exact measurements; my recipe is going to have some estimates. Try it, tweak it, refine it :)

1 large can garbanzo beans, drained
2-3 cloves of garlic
1-2 tablespoons tahini
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/4-1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon paprika
grapeseed, sesame, or olive oil

Throw the garlic in your food processor first, chop it a bit, then add garbanzo beans. Process. Add tahini, lemon juice, and spices, process more. Now, you'll note there's no quantity on the oil added. You're going to add this gradually as you process it until you get to the consistency you desire -- less oil if you're using it for sandwiches, more if it's going to be for chips or veggie dip. You can also adjust the amount of tahini, as more will make it smoother. Let it sit for about an hour, then check the salt and garlic levels before serving, as these flavors will really "bloom" as it settles. Devour your delicious protein source!

New Bike Week

Posted from http://lightbox.com

After much anticipation...

More photos to come, natch

Jingle Cross 2011

If anyone felt like they'd lacked the experience of a "real" 'cross race, this year's Jingle Cross was an easy way to end that. Photos by Berly Brown, Emily Hoesly, Noah Marcus, Josh Rice, and Anne or Mark Savery.

Friday:

After 5 hours of driving, I wasn't really too excited to race. Legs didn't feel good, stomach didn't feel so great either, and though it was exciting to be there and under the lights and such, the doomy cloudy sky wasn't really revving me up. I did a practice lap and headed to the line with all the rest of the Cat 4s. 

GO! Watch 608, she's my competition...

The mess began just after the start, as the officials had only left a 15-second gap between the 60-ish Cat 4 men and the women. We'd caught the tail end of them in a bottleneck right after the first corner, and trying to maneuver through the group was going to be critical in the first lap.

Running up Mt. Krumpet. Beastly long and steep.

This hill run-up helped with that. Lots of people were moving really slowly up this, so I tried to push it harder, sending myself way into the red. After the first lap, where Ms. 608 kicked my bars on her remount, I got ahead of her. Not for long, though, as she attacked somewhere on lap 2 and put in a bit of a gap. Girls 1 and 2, speedy Juniors, were way ahead, and I was trying to find motivation to push harder while also thinking about the 2 additional days of racing ahead.

Under the flyover. You're supposed to ring the bell for good luck.

That motivation came in the form of John Lefler, race announcer and fellow Lincolnite, calling out that the race for 3rd place was the one to watch. He called me out, called out 608 (Sarah Rice from Chicago), and started doing a play-by-play of our last lap, wondering over the loudspeaker if I could catch her. So I did. I shouldered and ran a long, muddy off-camber section all the way to the base of the flyover, and I caught her on the top. Lefler saw and called the catch, and I drilled it down the other side and to the base of Mt. Krumpet. Pushing as hard as I could to run up the hill, I started to make a little gap. Down, through the barns, and back through the pinwheel -- where you could catch glimpses of your competition repeatedly -- and grinding to the start/finish, and I'd pulled out 3rd place on the podium. Phew! Time to go have some fun on the hill.

Friday podium, with two girls half my age.

After watching the pros, we got dinner at a great pizza pub. Back to the hotel, time to sleep for an early start Saturday morning, rain in the forecast.

Saturday:

It was raining steadily when we woke up, and it was clear that the ground that had already been a bit soft Friday was going to get soggy pretty quickly on Saturday. Luckily, when we raced at 9:30, it hadn't yet gotten much colder, and the temperature in the upper 40s was perfectly tolerable despite the rain.

Start line on Saturday. Rain, but not too cold yet.

I hadn't really warmed up at all Saturday (having a really full car meant forgoing luxuries like trainer and extra wheel), and there was a new cast of characters on the line. Adding to the fun, teammates Berly Brown and Emily Hoesly were in the mix as well.

Soft, wet ground. Not bad here, much worse elsewhere.

The ground was a real powersuck. Though there were many places that were truly muddy or necessitated running, I could ride more than others despite not having mud tires. Lots of places, though, were just soft, wet ground, and my legs felt tired from the effort the night before. I slipped from 3rd into 4th and then 5th wheel, with 6th giving me chase. On the 3rd lap, the rider in 4th went down in a greasy corner, and I came around her with now-5th place hot on my heels. She gave good chase for the last lap, but it wasn't enough, so I ended up with a 4th place finish, a wet, cold, muddy body, and a really messy bike. Clean up, warm up, yell at friends, and hit the hot tub.

One of my favorite spots for food in the Midwest is Masala Vegetarian -- it was an oasis of great vegan food that I always tried to make part of my road trips back and forth to Providence when I was in college -- and after a cold day in the rain, Indian food sounded so good. A group of 10 Nebraskans met up and gorged ourselves on spicy deliciousness. It's so awesome to get a full menu from which to choose!

Sunday:

Sunday was going to be cold, windy, and full of the muddy effects of Saturday's rain. It was a mess. I warmed up in the parking lot, knowing I wouldn't actually be sprinting much once on the course. Again, there was a new set of characters (albeit smaller this time), though all three of Saturday's podium finishers were on the line again, too.

Running through the logs.

I took the holeshot, but not having pre-ridden the course meant I was completely unprepared for the first re-routed turn. Oops. I maintained position for a little bit, but two-time 1st place finisher Skyler Schneider moved around me pretty shortly. Along with her came Saturday's second-place finisher, and another girl who hadn't raced yet this weekend. I settled in to my tempo again, trying as best as possible to find good lines through deep mud and puddles. Slow and steady, no mistakes, that was my goal.

Holding steady in the mud.

And slowly but surely, I was once again in the position of holding 4th place and gaining on 3rd. I found my attack on the third lap, and I think I heard Lefler call me a diesel engine as I came through the start/finish. I rode the last lap increasing my gap for another solid 3rd place finish.

Sunday podium, and an end to my 2011 season.

After getting cleaned up and watching the other races (including Ryan goofing off in the Single Speedo race wearing Sheclismo bikini briefs), we headed up to Mt. Krumpet for some SHEnanigans. It was a fun way to end another great weekend with friends, and a somewhat bittersweet cap to my 2011 season.

SHEnanigans on Mt. Krumpet.

I'm pretty tired of being on the road every weekend -- I've only had one weekend home since the end of September -- and my house shows for it. I have freelance projects demanding attention, cats demanding attention, and knitting projects to finish before friends have their babies. I still haven't unpacked my race travel bag, but I'm hanging my hat on racing until spring. Being at a race age of 29, I'm in an odd spot for Nationals. I could spend a bunch of money for a Wednesday "non-competition" race, or I could complete my upgrade and race the elites, only to get pulled after Katie Compton blows by me a couple times. Next year, I'll be old enough for Masters', and with Worlds being in Louisville, I'll plan on extending my season into January. This year, though, I'm going to build up my anxiously anticipated War Axe, goof off on it in my parents' pasture, ski for the week between Christmas and New Year's, and enjoy that 29th birthday.

Nebraska travel squad who went to Jingle Cross, it was great to hang out with y'all for the weekend. Super fun times. If you want to just ride around sometime, look me up. The calendar seems a lot more open now...

Lincoln CX Weekend

Well, this weekend was quite the tale of night and day differences in racing for me.

As I've mentioned before, the Lincoln CX race holds a special place in my heart, as it was my first foray into organized bicycle racing of any sort two years ago. (See video of me with fixed gear "racing" 'cross in 2009.)


Well, throughout last week I was fighting off either some food poisoning or, more likely, a gastrointestinal virus brought to work by a co-worker silly enough to have young children at home. Nasty little buggers! I wasn't feeling all that well all week, and then Thursday night I really came down with it. I got up to shower Friday morning and realized going to work wasn't going to be possible. Great. Staying in bed all day and not eating is a superb way to prepare for a demanding weekend of racing, right?

Ryan was sweet enough to go pre-ride the course Friday afternoon, camera in tow, to take some video for me. Even though I couldn't really get a sense of the course, I could see that it was going to be really hilly, with lots of fun ups and downs. Not a course to get bored on.

Got up Saturday morning, forced down a bowl of plain rice, a banana, and a little applesauce with some Good Belly probiotic juice and headed out to Pioneers Park, prepared for cold. And thankfully so, because the temperature dropped about 15 degrees in just as many minutes. Stiff North wind, cloudy skies, and a little drizzle and it really felt like winter.

I needed a decent race to solidify my win in the Midwest CX Stitch series, and with 2nd place Julie Higgins coming up from KC, I had to give it the best I could. Double points on the line, and though I hadn't taken the time to do the math, I knew that if I wasn't right behind her, I'd be in trouble.

Day 1, with 24 women lined up to race. Photo: Sydney Brown

I hardly had energy to do a warm-up, so I just spun my legs for a little bit. Heading to the line, I did get a little boost of energy seeing 23 other women standing there shivering, too! All the work put in to making the series a reality, bringing in racers from out of town and convincing local ladies to take the line for the first time worked, and we rivaled the biggest field of the day. (Compare to 7 women in 2010 and a mere 5 in 2009, and this is a pretty amazing accomplishment.)

We started out somewhat slow, and a crash at the start line had lots of us hesitant, I think. Janna took the holeshot, and the front group's pace was easily too fast for me. I also noticed that I hadn't checked the saddle height on the demo well enough, and it was about an inch too high. Not so comfy, yet another detail to fall victim to my general ill-feeling. I sat on Julie's wheel for a bit, then attacked on I think the 2nd lap going up one of the longer inclines.

Running up Hooligan Hill. Photo: Kyle Hansen

Much to my surprise, the Hooligan Hill run-up proved to be one of my strengths. Training with my quite heavy bike and then getting to race on a demo that's about a third of the weight put some spring in my step!

Though I put on a little bit of a gap, by a couple laps later she was on me again, and when she launched her counterattack, I was out of gas in the tank.

Struggling. Photo: Kyle Hansen

By the 5th lap, I was just doing everything I could not to let anyone else catch me. Any effort I tried to put out, my body had nothing in it to react. I was relying on the flow and momentum of the course to keep me moving, and when I pulled around to the finish on my last lap, the beautiful and ever cheerful Berly Brown was making her way through as well. Suffering the climbs on a singlespeed, I reached out and gave her a push through the finish. (If anyone got a photo of this, please let me know. It was wicked cute.)

Getting warm after the race was nearly impossible, as the wind continued to be fierce. I took cover in the Trek van for awhile and watched the next two races. Then it was time to pack up, clean up, and party! I was starting to feel a little better -- most of all, I was hungry again -- and we headed to the Hour Lounge for the Midwest CX Stitch awards party.

Prize table. Amazing, generous donations, particularly from local women!

A really nice crowd turned out to eat pasta and enjoy some drinks before we dug into giving out series awards. In addition to winners in the Category 3 & Category 4 divisions, we also gave out a Singlespeed series winner. On top of that, we had a Skillz award (for best technical riding) and a Makes CX Look the Most Fun award -- and that lovely lady got first pick of the prize pool! For the Lincoln race, we also had a ballot box on Hooligan Hill for the crowd to pick their favorite racer and for best costume. Jen, as Cookie Monster, won that one hands down.

C is for Cookie Monster the CX racer. Photo: Kyle Hansen

As if that weren't enough, there was also a match preme given by Conrad, a Lanterne Rouge preme sponsored by Lincoln Hustle, and a Grindcore Memorial Dive in Head First award, given to the rider with the least-appropriate bike for cyclocross. And thanks to the generosity of our sponsors, everyone who raced got a chance at the prize table!

Brunch! So much oatmeal with fixins!

After a good night's sleep, I woke up early, a good sign that I was on the mend. My lovely housemate Diane had volunteered to help out with making an oatmeal bar for racers, complete with lots of fancy fixins', and we headed over to the lovely Bulfinch home for a cozy brunch. Did I mention it was 15 degrees out? Yeah, it was frigid.
 
Even though I wasn't quite sure if my stomach was ready for it yet, I needed calories badly, so I went for the oatmeal. Twice. A nice dollop of probiotic-rich yogurt, and I felt a little more ready to conquer the day. I always feel more relaxed the second day of racing, it seems.

The sun was shining, and even if it wasn't getting that much warmer, at least it felt that way. I packed my new winner's jersey and headed out to the park.

Flashing the winner's jersey. Photo: Sydney Brown

 I was excited to try my hand at this course again. With a heavy emphasis on technical features, it was super fun to ride, and if I was liking it even while feeling crappy, now that I was feeling better it was going to be a blast! Off the line, I was easily in with the front 5 or 6 riders, and as we settled in to position, I was in 7th position. First time up Hooligan Hill, and a bad remount dropped me to 8th. Sandy Collins and Renae Weaver -- a woman who has let me know I've been making her nervous all year -- came by me, and I hopped on her for the next lap. After we came through the start/finish and back onto the grass half a lap later, she told me it was time to go get the next one. I pulled ahead and found myself chasing Aubrey Dock.  She looked tired, and after coming around her, I caught a glimpse of the next rider...5th position was being held down by none other than Janna Vavra. And she wasn't that far ahead!

Feeling pretty good in the cold, PINK FAST! Photo: Kyle Hansen

Slowly but surely, I pulled up to her until I was right on her wheel. Everybody we passed was cheering us both on, and for about two laps, I held steady. Janna's a really skilled rider and experienced racer, and I was reading her for the places I might have an opportunity to attack.

And at some point, she knew it, and really gave it the gas. As we came off of the climbs and into the Pinewood Bowl section the last time, she motored off, and I couldn't catch her on the way down and through the finish. Afterward, Janna said she just couldn't let it happen...yet! Still, finishing 6th in a pretty stacked Open field felt darn good. It was exciting just to be that competitive with that level of racers.

After the women's race, it was time to do it up, Hooligan Hill style. The women on the Hill came up with a new game, the DK'd Willies came to play again, and Lincoln rocked. Keith Walberg captured it best.



All in all, it has been a fantastic season of racing. This weekend marked my 17th and 18th CX races since the first of October, and with three more at Jingle Cross on the horizon this weekend, I'm pretty tired and ready to be home and knitting for a while. I wouldn't trade it for anything, though. Traveling with my teammates from Sheclismo -- and with my adoptive team the Trek Midwest CX squad -- has been a blast, and I've gained so much valuable experience and knowledge, not to mention made new friends. 'Cross is awesome.

Sheclismo CX ambassadors, Elisabeth Grindcore, Berly Brown, and Syd Vicious. Photo: Nancy Brown

Up and Down the Boulevard

Sometimes, things click and you're just ON. Welcome to Boulevard Cup 2011.

Last year, Boulevard Cup was my first out of state race, and in the midst of all my documentary editing and premiering, I hadn't had nearly enough training. In a huge field of 4s, my fresh legs pulled out a 3rd place finish. Needless to say, I was really stoked.

Fast-forward to this year, where I've raced all but one weekend since the 1st of October, as well as every Wednesday night in between. I've done the training. I spent the summer riding gravel and mountain bikes, and improved my bike handling skills dramatically. And after a couple of weekends of somewhat frustrating racing on wide open power courses, we pulled up to this venue alongside a very visible, long off-camber section. My heart started pumping. This was going to be awesome.

Spent my warm-up tooling around Saturday's course with Emily Hoesly, chatting with her about off-camber riding. We watched some of the Men's Master's race, then squeezed in a practice lap on the course. After riding into the sandpit, I realized that I'd been spinning around in my big ring the whole time without even noticing. This bode well, as I've spent a couple weeks forcing myself to stay in that big chainring to build power. It also meant following my travel buddy Schmidty's assessment that this would be a big-ring course. Since I'm still rocking bar-end shifters, minimal shifting is a very good thing.

I headed back to the staging area to find 46 other women lining up. WOW. This has been an absolutely incredible year for growth in women's cyclocross. We were split into Open (fasties, 2s & 3s), 3/4s (where I opted to be), 4s, and then Master's 40+, 50+, and 60+. Behind all of the ladies were junior racers, including an adorable 11-year-old girl.

The start was on a bike path, and I worked to hold myself toward the front of the group. I'd lowered my tire pressure to about 30psi for confidence in the off-cambers, and with pretty grippy tires, this wasn't going to be my strongest part of the course. I managed to be about 10th or so through the first bit of grassy turns, and at the first sharp S-curve, traffic slowed to a near stop. Grr. Time to get a little more aggressive in the corners and move around -- these were going to be my strong sections. Not too long after that, we hit the off-camber hillside for the first time, and I was zipping past women struggling with a couple steep little rollers. This section offered a bit of recovery for me, and even the short run-up was fun!

Loving the off-camber, with Julie Higgins right on my wheel. Photo by Roger Harrison/Lanterne Rouge

We popped out of this and onto a long flat stretch. I don't know if I just get bored with these or what, but they really aren't my strong suit. Unless I'm chasing someone, being chased, or really focused, I'm pretty sure I'm slowing down on these. The first time, I was on the chase, and once we hit the sandpit, I was caught partway through by a couple racers not making it the whole way across. Bailing and running the rest of the way, I hit the pavement in front of them and drilled it into the stretch in front of the announcer's stand, holding 2nd wheel in the 3/4s pack. Renae Weaver of Women's Free State Racing wasn't far behind, and she made her attack on that long back stretch I mentioned not liking earlier. Also chasing was Jessica Vanackeren of LocalCycling.com, who had suffered a fall and a dropped chain in the sandpit.

Renae's attack stuck, and I spent the remainder of the race checking over my shoulder for Jessica on the flats and increasing my lead in the sandpit and whoop-dee-dos. I particularly enjoyed hamming it up a bit for the sandpit crowd, as it felt proper to let out a big "YEAH!" after grinding it successfully across. 

Peeking over the top of a hill on the whoop-dee-do section, having a blast! (That's on my face, right?) Photo by Roger Harrison/Lanterne Rouge

Emily crushed it! I don't know if my little pre-race off-camber lesson helped, but this girl rocked it.

Emily Hoesly, making serious progress. 5th race and a victory in the 4s. Welcome to Sheclismo! Photo by Roger Harrison/Lanterne Rouge

 After the race, we were chatting, and she remarked that she didn't think she saw anyone with a 700-number pass by her. Could she have won the 4s race? Sure enough, they did the podium, and there she was on the top step! Quick subcommittee meeting:

Sydney: Why isn't she in our kit? 

Elisabeth: We need her in our kit!

[Emily returns from the podium]

Elisabeth: Congratulations! That's awesome! Want to be part of Sheclismo?

Emily: Well, I've "liked" you on Facebook for a long time. Don't I have to be in Lincoln? I'm not getting up at 5 AM for trainer sessions...

Elisabeth: That's too damn early; I don't do that either.

Emily: I'm in!

We cheered on the Cat 3 and Singlespeed men, the highlight of which was heckling our Nebraska guys coming out of the sandpit, threatening slaps on the rear if they didn't go faster. This was particularly fun with Malcolm, all decked out in the Daisy Dukes and a Dolly Parton wig.

Best part of Malcolm's get-up: mimicking the 'cross woman's affinity for tall sox. Photo by Roger Harrison/Lanterne Rouge

It was great to have such a large Nebraska contingent at the race, but it's also been awesome to make new friends through the Midwest CX Stitch series. This weekend, I'm heading to the USGP in Louisville, and then comes our series finale and State Championships at Pioneers Park. Nostalgia abounds...that was my start to racing just two years ago, on a dare. Who are you going to dare into this?

USGP New Belgium Cup

This weekend, I participated in my first national cycling event, the US Gran Prix of Cyclocross New Belgium Cup in Ft. Collins, CO. To say I had a good time is an understatement. A recap...with photos courtesy of Megan Kaminski Doloto, Anne Savery, and Chris Wolff.

I was adopted for the weekend by the TMCX team for the drive and the weekend, and they really took me in like family. It was awesome. I raced at 8:45 both mornings, and at a large venue with races on course the whole time, warm ups are challenging. (They'd be impossible later on Saturday, as driving cold rain hit...) Matt set me up on a trainer, blocked from the cold northwest wind, and I warmed up the legs and got to feel all pro in my attitude. Being looked out for just plain rules.

 

After warming up, I headed to the call-up line, cozy down jacket wrapped around me, to get lined up, Matt at the sidelines waiting as long as possible to take my layers. Day 1, I was in the second row of 8. They had both a Category 2/3 Women's and a Category 3/4 Women's race going off together with a 1 minute gap in between, and I was in the 3/4 group as a 4 on the upper edge, testing waters for moving up in category. And there were 28 others with me. After lining up with 5 others last weekend, this was a big, exciting change.

Didn't get the best of starts, but probably made it about 7th or 8th into the holeshot. Then, it was time to settle in to loose, sandy descents and try to hold position. Picking defensive lines came in handy, as I could swing through and pop out of the switchbacks faster than most behind me. It was long climbs on which I struggled. That, and the trail was still really, really bumpy.

So bumpy, in fact, that a not-quite-tight-enough saddle slammed itself down with the nose tilted way up going down a fast descent on the second lap. Crap. Even if I'd had a pit bike, I don't know if I would've stopped for it, since I was in a nice back and forth battle with these ladies. They'd catch me going up hill, and I'd get back on their wheels on straightaways or technical sections. So I ended up doing a lot more standing and pedaling.

This was also my first experience with a flyover. Fun stuff! Run up the stairs on one side, zip down the ramp on the other. 

Here's a look at the dry course Saturday morning, with the annoying terrace cutouts. These really kept us from picking up much speed.

And the finish. After being in a battle for 9th/10th, I fell back to 11th by the end of the last lap. Out of 29, I was pretty happy. After all, I was at 5,000 feet of altitude...

After my race Saturday, in which it was just sprinkling, the rain set in for real, making for sloppy and cold races for the TMCX team and Elite races of the day. It never got cold enough to snow, but it rained steadily into the evening. New experience for the morning: mud.

I woke up not at all motivated to race, and quite apprehensive. Now, I know I've been mountain biking for a couple years, and I've been commuting in snow and ice, and on top of that, I have a lucky propensity to somehow stay upright when running into obstacles...but handling muddy conditions in a race situation on skinny tires had me nervous. A little chat with Mark about lines to choose, when to take advantage of grassy sections left, and the fact that the greasiest spots would likely be rerouted, and I was feeling a little better, but still not that great. I summoned this image.

CVO on his birthday riding laps in the D Street Mansion in a Chewbacca costume. Game face. Got on the trainer, put some Freedom Call on my iPod, followed by some Lightning Bolt, changed from the fleece jersey into the black longsleeve, and I was ready to go.

Not as many women took the line on Sunday, and I got a front row spot. Awesome. I wasn't going to blow the start this time. The whistle blew, and I sprinted into the holeshot 4th wheel. Rafal had warned me right before the start that the first turn was really slick, so I let off the gas just briefly when we hit the mud. Good plan. First two women were down, bikes tangled. Third woman went down trying to avoid them. And suddenly, there I was, riding right through the slop and into first place. Whoa. Calm the butterflies and focus. The first section had lots of muddy turns, and I was nailing them, keeping my position and making it hard for the faster riders to get around me. Once we hit the climbs, though, a few popped around me, especially since the uphills were more straight up Sunday, with switchbacks taken out. My lungs were burning, not able to keep up with what I wanted them to do.

I slid into 3rd, then 4th, then 5th. I wanted a top 10 spot today, and with smart riding, I felt like I could do it.

The flyover was crazy on Sunday, since the bottom was full of deep, sloppy ruts. Audible "oh, holy crap" came out of my mouth the first time, which I think amused my photographer superfans. Sliding through it and into the sharp right hand turn felt awesome, though, and I was happy to stay upright the whole race.

After two laps of battling it out for 7th, I ended up in 8th for the day on Sunday. Top ten achieved, lots learned, and then, with better weather, a great day of spectating. By the time the pros raced, the track was worn in like sweet singletrack. Lucky!

Big thanks to all the Nebraskans out there supporting and cheering, congrats to all who took the line and raced, and major thanks to the the Trek Demo Truck for hooking me up with a sweet, super fast Cronus CX demo bike to ride. It made me feel so much faster, I even wheelied it a few times! (Yeah, not intentionally, but it's so light, I couldn't help it.)

Homegrown IV

SUBMIT!!! ATTEND!!!

Weekend in the Black Hills

Two weeks ago, finishing Gravel Worlds got a nice long recap in these pages, and now I'm going to attempt to do justice to my other pinnacle event of the season, the Dakota 5-o. I had heard so many good things about this race last year that when the registration opened in something like March, I set my alarm and signed up, clinching one of the 600 spots. That click of a button would influence my entire mountain bike season, from buying Black Betty to racing in the Marathon class in the Psycowpath race series all summer. Add in my weekly Women of Wednesday ride, where I lead a group of beginner through experienced women in off-road riding, all the gravel riding, and my daily commute and I felt ready to tackle the finest singletrack the Black Hills had to offer.

Saturday course recon & leg spinning with Casey.

Well, that is until we did a little course recon on Saturday. After a nice long drive with Nathan Swanson and Matt Gersib in caravan with Casey Sheppard and CVO on Friday, we settled in to camp and beers by a beautiful little stream in the Spearfish City Campground. Scott Showen had already been in town a couple of days, securing Fort Lincoln just a bit to the west of Camp Omaha. Yeah, we're like that :)

So Saturday morning comes, we sleep in a bit, aided by the crisp fall air, roll in to a yummy burrito place, and then pack up for a ride. Instead of taking the steep 3 mile gravel climb out of town, we decided to drive to the trailhead to hop straight onto the singletrack. No use burning energy the day before a race on stuff you know how to ride without a problem. Though Casey was running support and not racing, she had her bike along, and since I wanted to be extra sure I didn't overdo it, I was happy to ride with her instead of try to keep up with the boys. She's only been riding since the start of the summer, but she is really putting in the effort and the miles.

So we hopped into the singletrack, and were immediately greeted by something Nebraska trails really don't have. Rocks. Lots of rocks. And steep edges along the track. Take a deep breath. Oh wait, altitude. Excitement about the race was quickly replaced with some major apprehension. Can I really do 50 miles of this? And if I'm feeling like this, what the hell must Casey be thinking? The fellas are way ahead, we're all kitted up, and it's time to put on the gameface, ovary up, and ride this thing!

We took it nice and slow, trying to learn to read the lines over the rocks and trust the bike to do what it's built to. This isn't a road bike, after all -- the tires and suspension (which was new to me at the beginning of the year) are meant to deal with this kind of terrain. After awhile, Casey decided she'd had enough of the climbing and told me to go on so I could round out 5 miles out, giving me 10 for the day. We met up with the rest of the crew, descended back to the cars, and headed back to town to get our race numbers.

 Tall-bike powered ice cream churn courtesy of the Spearfish Bike Co-op.

The check-in was really well organized, and it never hurts to have beer from the local brewery on sale to ease in the process. I picked up a pint of Crow Peak porter to accompany my fresh-churned vanilla ice cream. If you've never tried a porter float before, I highly recommend it! When we picked up our packets, we were asked if we wanted to start in Wave 1 or 2, basically a split of people in race mode or in tour mode. I had asked several veterans for their advice on placement, and the consensus was to line up at the back of Wave 1 -- those who intend to finish in under 6 hours. After the day's recon, I was far less confident in this decision, but remembered that part of the reason that wave was suggested to me was that in that position, I'd be likely to spend less time caught in traffic with less skilled riders but still wouldn't be in the way of more skilled ones. Good call. We headed back to camp and made dinner, with everyone gearing up for an early night and an early morning.

 CVO, chief firemaster

 Showen's hat and jacket are an indication of how chilly it got. 

 Casey & Sarah Johnson fireside, with Gersib and India in the background.

Bedtime, and sleeping was easy in the crisp air. It was getting out of the sleeping bag at 5:30 when it was 39 degrees out that was the hard part! At least the sun came up fast, and since everyone in the campground was moving, it was easier to get going. Soaked muesli in apple juice and a cup of coffee and I was ready to go. 

Dressing for the temperature was a little challenging, since we knew the 3 mile climb out of town and the following 7 miles of slowly climbing singletrack would ensure a pretty quick warm up. Still, I didn't want to be cold while waiting at the starting line, so I threw my Sheclismo jacket on over my summer kit, arm warmers, knee warmers, and trusty wool War Axe Socks. Even though I generally dislike wearing it, I chose to go with the Camelbak for this race, knowing that the technical terrain would have me drinking less if I had to reach for bottles, and knowing that a dropped bottle would either mean lots of lost time or a serious hydration problem. Plus, I could stuff my jacket in it until the first aid station where Casey could pick it up. 

I lined up next to a few other women who seemed to be employing the same hang-out-at-the-back-of-Wave-1 strategy, and after a little bit of waiting, we were off! A huge field of riders snaking through town and up out of it to the clang of cowbells and the cheers of onlookers bundled in their sleeping bags. Brr! As we went up the gravel, I met Kelly MacWilliams, a super rad woman from Minneapolis who was riding a Day-Glo singlespeed Independent. Hard woman, no doubt, and really nice to boot. I was happy to see her smiling face throughout the day. 

We entered the singletrack, and things stopped almost immediately. Though a little bit of a letdown, it gave me the opportunity to grab a couple shot blocks, since I was already feeling the need to eat. We rolled through a good bit of stop and go, coming through a few early walking sections due more to the fact that they weren't rideable with no momentum to get up them. Eventually, though, things evened out a bit, and I felt great following lines through the stuff that had kind of scared the crap out of me the day before. 

After the long climb I'd done Saturday, we got into sections beyond what I'd ridden and there was this series of creek crossings down in a valley. More new experiences. I watched the guys in front of me (rocking the Cars-R-Coffins kits) go right through the water and figured the worst that could happen was that I'd fall in the water, right? Worse yet, I could chicken out and let a bunch of people pass me and then get wet feet from walking through it. So I rode across. That was super fun! We crossed another and another, and the woman who had been right on my tail wasn't behind me anymore. In fact, with a few flat pasture sections, I was gaining on people. And my mountain bike, all muddy, looked like a real mountain bike!

Before I knew it, I could hear cowbells and cheering -- the first aid station, 12 miles in. There was a huge crowd, and I spotted Casey in the Cycle Works rasta jacket right away. She and another aid worker got me a banana, a gel, refilled my water and sent me on my way with a huge hug. Then, in what may be the biggest ego boosting highlight of the day, I overheard a guy standing there taking pictures say "that's a crosser" as I remounted my bike. Hell yeah I am! With the weather and the cowbells, I was darn near fooled into thinking I was at a cross race for a moment. Back to singletrack business.

After that aid station, we had some big open pastures to go through, and I felt much more at home, even though the cows alongside these trails had pine trees and aspens to hang out in instead of cottonwoods and cedars. After a bit, we came on a section dubbed Cardiac Climb, and while my 1x10 got me more than halfway up, at a certain point my legs were burning and I had to get off and walk. Luckily, I was in good company, as only one person rode by me. This was steep. After it leveled out a bit, we got on a fire road and headed downhill, and somewhere along the way, following in the dust of a couple guys, we all missed a turn. About a mile and another big steep walking climb later, the singletrack disappeared, and these two guys and another woman I'd been leapfrogging with since just before the aid station and I realized we must be off course. 

[INSERT SLOUGH OF PROFANITY HERE]

Back down we went, then back up, across a pasture, and back up the fire road to meet an oncoming field of riders (including Kelly Mac) turning off the road and onto another section of singletrack. At least 20 minutes and a bunch of field position lost there, plus an almost certain goodbye to my ambitious 6 hour goal. I tried to use my frustration productively, but at this point, I was definitely stuck behind riders who were slower than I was, and I wasn't feeling confident about passing on the rocky terrain unless they were moving over. I knew an aid station was coming up and figured I'd just cool my jets behind some folks, but then it was further than I thought (duh, when you take a detour, your bike computer isn't accurate anymore) and I just kind of fumed unproductively, turning the pedals and hoping not to make a stupid mistake.

I pulled in to the second aid station, and as I told Casey and Melissa from Minnesota that I'd gotten lost, they confirmed that I had in fact lost quite a bit of time. Bummer. I'd really never had an idea of where I was in the standings, but whatever it had been, now it was worse. Refocus, re-prioritize, and remember I'm only 22 miles in to a 50 (or now 52?) mile race. 

I rolled out and on through another series of beautiful terrain, reminding myself how absolutely beautiful it was and how fortunate I was to get to spend the day riding in this gorgeous country. Both CVO and Rafal were strong proponents of the "just riding around" theory, and I really took that to heart as things got wicked technical! We were riding through pastures again, but these were like pastures on steroids or something. More little creek crossings, tight blind corners, twisty roller coasters around rocks, and little cattle guards to cross kept me on my toes and slightly terrified -- it was a little like riding at Platte River State Park, I'd try to tell myself, but oh-so-much less room for error. I think this was the part where I started telling folks who came up on me that I was a chicken sh*t descender. After this went on for quite awhile, I started getting tired and a little demoralized. Something hit where I just felt like I might burst into tears. Maybe it was the constant fear that I would fall on my face way out in a field? I don't know. Anyway, I rolled into the third aid station in serious need of moral support, and Casey and Melissa delivered. Coconut water, a little shoulder rub, and a lot of encouragement later, and they told me they'd skip the fourth aid station and catch me at the Bacon Station, the last stop before the finish.

I pushed on, more climbs up ahead. At this point, I was actually relishing the climbs, knowing exactly what to do with them and being pleasantly surprised that I was stronger on all but the very steepest ones than I'd expected to be. All the time spent on the 1x10 this year had me trained to push a harder gear than those with granny gear options, so I found myself motoring past folks slowly spinning their way uphill. And after these climbs, there was a sweet reward, a super long stretch of downhill fire road to the next aid station. Now, with my little detour earlier in the day, I was super nervous about missing another turn, so I was keeping my eyes constantly scanning for the little pink ribbons marking the trail, slowing down to make sure I was still on track. Kind of a bummer again, since this was something I felt good doing, though arguably not in anywhere close to that capacity. We simply don't have downhills that go on for that long. At one point, I'm pretty sure I laughed out loud as I looked down and saw my speedometer hit 35mph. On a road bike, that's cool, but on a mountain bike on a dirt road in the forest, that's crazy. 

As I rolled in to the fourth aid station, I saw the familiar Elkhorn Valley Cycling kit, and waved to Buddy Houts, one of our local junior racers. It looked like he was getting loaded up into a car, and since this kid is really strong, I knew something bad must've happened. He cheered me on, and it wasn't until the finish that I found out he'd busted his rim. Even worse, his teammate and our other junior Cole Skiba had succumbed to a bad crash himself, hitting his shoulder and ending his race, too. To top it off, they'd been holding on to 1st and 2nd place in the junior division. Next year, guys!

Leaving aid station number four, I saw Kelly Mac again, all smiles. Singlespeeders are awesome. I feel like the 1x10 is a baby step in that direction...

Onward, upward, pedal over pedal. Next up was the Bacon Station, a tradition of bacon and beer handups. I couldn't wait. I had to go through some more gnarly steep hiking and some really loamy forest first, and this was another section of reminding myself just how amazingly different this was from home. It was like videos I'd watched. Cool. I was in a funny group of folks at this point, all people I'd pass going uphill and who'd catch me going down. Occasionally, we'd catch a glimpse out through the trees at the hills across the valley. So gorgeous. 

Then the Bacon Station appeared, improv reggae tunes wafting through the trees, and I was ready for a PBR. Mmmmm, delicious beer.

 No bacon for this happy vegetarian. Just a PBR and a smile..."only" 12 miles to the finish!

At this point, I knew I was going to finish, and with a smile on my face. The worst of the climbs were done, the mood was awesome at that stop, and Casey took my picture with an "only 12 miles to the finish" caption. I think I said something along the lines of "that's like one way through Wilderness," and totally cracked myself up with how much harder it would actually be. 

I left confident, though, and had overheard a couple other riders talking about the upcoming ridge and amazing view. About that ridge. Holy cow, that was some scary, gnarly stuff. I ended up walking a bunch of little rocky switchbacks just because I felt like I might fall on my face if I stayed on the bike. Having one faceplant already this year had me very adamant about not adding another, especially here and now. So I walked and enjoyed the scenery, apologizing for my newbie Nebraskanness to riders coming up behind me.

"Look Back!"

At the end of the ridge, the race organizers had placed a little sign that just said "Look Back!" The photo above, and pretty much the only one I stopped to take, was the view. Absolutely breathtaking, all the more so because I'd accomplished it all on my own humanpower. I took a minute, then got back on the bike and down to business. We had a few descents and one little climb, then a long climb up a gravel road, where I again passed several folks pushing their bikes who'd passed me earlier. I smiled and thanked them as they spit out chagrined cheers of "good job" and "keep it up" -- thanks for the prep, Gravel Worlds!

Then, before we knew it, we were back on the first few miles of singletrack of the day, but this time in reverse. And downhill. WOOOOOOOO! Almost there! I flipped through the turns and over the rocks, recognizing things here and there to know I was getting closer. Then came the gravel roads back in to Spearfish, and I absolutely let loose. After spending the majority of the day in my lowest three gears, I went all the way to the smallest cog and spun out at top speed down the road, passing a few people and grinning like mad. I had done it!

As I came down the pavement into the last turn, there was Ryan Feagan, cheering "Lincoln, Nebraska, represent!!" on the side of the street. I threw up some devil horns, rounded the corner, and tried to keep my cranking momentum through the false flat to the finish. I high-fived some little girls. Yes, chicks can race bikes. I crossed the finish line at 6 hours, 52 minutes, putting me 8th in my age division and 36th for women overall. Mission accomplished. 

I can't possibly thank everyone adequately, so if you feel like you might've helped, you probably did. But thanks do go to my teammates on Sheclismo for helping build a supportive women's scene in Lincoln, Joyride/Specialized for the bike, Casey for her outstanding aid station presence, and all the veteran riders from Lincoln and Omaha who've offered advice, support, encouragement, and challenges over the last 16 months. It's hard to believe that it's only been that short of a time ago that I first rode singletrack.

Gravel Worlds Addendum

My shoes, this morning.

Gravel Worlds 2011

Sheesh, for a professional photographer, I sure didn't take many photos yesterday. This is definitely attributable to the task at hand, the completion of the Gravel World Championships. If you haven't heard of this, read up. Completing the Pirate Cycling League's Gravel Worlds has been one of my biggest goals of the year. And even though I was in the last group of riders to finish, I wasn't one of the 1/3 of the starters that didn't make it the whole way. Read on for my attempts at a recap!

Early morning, Fletcher full of blinkies heading East.

Headlights and sun on the horizon. Must've been a trip to come upon this sea of 116 cyclists at 6 on a Saturday morning!

After a hot streak that dried out the roads around town to beautiful riding shape, early August in southeastern Nebraska took an unseasonably cool turn. Add a little heat back in, and we had massive thunderstorms the two days before the race. What's that mean? Wet gravel. With added humidity in the air at start time, the roads were power-sucking and soft. Though not technically hard to ride, they sapped more energy than I'm used to expending to keep the pace I wanted to keep. Silver lining? White rock sections early in the day were much more forgiving, as the soft ground gave way for the rocks.

First hike of the day. Oh, County Road B. We became quite familiar, eh?

While the soft gravel may have been ok, the Minimum Maintenance Roads (MMRs) were not. Though we had ridden on a couple dirt sections that had one rideable line before this one, Road B wasn't rideable in the slightest if you were interested in going more than a couple hundred feet. Gravel endurance superstar Janna Vavra (first ever female finisher of TransIowa) offered me this advice Friday night: "If you see people walking up ahead, get off and start walking. If your tires are starting to pick up mud, start walking."

Portage! That's not a very happy face, is it?

And so shoulder my bike I did, dumping off any bits of weight-adding mud I could first. This went on for about 2 miles, with a couple places where pushing the bike in the grass on the side of the road was possible. After riding mostly solo, though, my long legs gave me a chance to catch up with some other riders!

Trying to find bits of grass worth pushing the bike along.

In this area north of Lincoln, the mud is of a pseudo-clay composition. Every bit on your bike made it that much heavier. People who didn't stop soon enough were pulling huge chunks off their bikes.
As we came to the end of this MMR, PCL Pirate Schmidty was directing people to the grassy side of the road to thoroughly scrape off their bikes. As people hit the gravel, he said, he'd witnessed 3 people fall victim to seized, bent or snapped derailleurs at the bottom of the hill.

Kevin Wilkins having to call it a day, snapped derailleur in hand at Valparaiso.

One of the victims was Kevin Wilkins, who was very disappointed to fall from the front of the group to having to call for a ride home. Several people went for makeshift single-speed conversions at this point (and at a point between Valparaiso and Malcolm). Thanks to Janna's advice, a lot of walking, and a very vigilant eye on the cleanliness of my derailleur pulleys, chain, and brakes, however, I stayed geared the whole way!

From the first checkpoint in Valparaiso (38 miles in), I rode solo to the second checkpoint in Malcolm (67 miles). I passed a few more single-speed conversions in progress, walking or riding in the grass in the ditch -- which, while good cyclocross practice, was extraordinarily sapping. 'Cross races are only 45 minutes, and this was an all-day kind of thing!

One great memory from this stretch that I wish I would have stopped to record was a windmill that was making the exact squeaking sound from the opening sequence of Once Upon A Time in the West, one of my favorite films.



I rolled in to Malcolm to a big crowd gathered outside the General Store, leaned up against the wall in the shade and gorging on all sorts of vittles, beers, and sodas. The sun was out, it was starting to get warm, and we were almost halfway through. With my parents' oasis just 10 miles away (and at the formal halfway point), I downed some chips and a Sioux City Sarsaparilla and made my way to the farm with Clint, Russell, and my vet, Mark Falloon.

Mark pulling me South to the Farm on W 98th.

Mark and I had ridden together earlier in the day (he picked great mountain bike lines I could follow on the first dirt roads), but then his pace was faster than I wanted to keep. I was glad to reunite with him for the 10 mile stretch to the oasis. He just rode Leadville last weekend, and I think the altitude was still in his lungs! In addition to being my vet, Mark was also a student of my dad's back in the day, so my parents were all excited to see him when we got to the farm.

My folks knocked it out of the park. Two varieties of homemade pickles, fresh cucumbers, tomatoes, cantaloupe, and pears from the garden, cucumber water, sodas, beers, and a sprayer hose to clean off dirty bikes. Can't believe Clint was the first to take advantage of that one! Hung out in the shade for a bit and then headed on with Conrad, Carl, and Matt Wills.

Conrad, Carl, and Matt, heading west for the Denton Wall.

The sun was definitely out at this point, and I knew there were some tough climbs ahead. Nothing like we'd had earlier in the day along Ashland road (in what's dubbed the Bohemian Alps, for all the Czech settlers in the area), but one in particular was the steepest climb of the day at 12% grade. Nicknamed the Denton Wall, the thing comes up out of a flat and really does look like a wall. Ouch. Carl and Matt were riding together all day, and while I was near them in the hills, once we got past that, they kept trucking. I was also having some gastro-intestinal issues at that point (not eating normal food for hours while putting your body through this much work is pretty tough on the GI tract), so I was looking for good trees rather than paying attention to the road. This slowed me down considerably, but I knew there was a secret checkpoint oasis in the future...

Clint at the Krull House.

My parents are friends with a fellow named Matt Steinhausen (appropriately, Stone House, auf Deutsch) who owns and is restoring one of the oldest houses in Lancaster County. Named the Krull House after its original resident, Frederick Krull, this beautiful limestone home sits tucked away in the trees off SW 2nd near Roca Road. Skip from War Axe Bicycles was there with scratch-off cards -- I won a pair of War Axe socks! -- beers, and generally good conversation with friends. Several folks who had ridden earlier were hanging out, and more decided that 102 miles was enough and were chilling before getting picked up.

Thank goodness for this!

Yes, that's an honest-to-goodness outhouse, and boy did I need it! It's true, the seats are really smooth from all the people sitting on them over the years. :)

Playful black cat on the side of the road underneath the Jamaica Trail, taken for c-rad.

Onward to Hickman ("Official" checkpoint #3, Mile 115.4), where I was hoping for some more substantial food, having eaten mostly Clif shotblocks, chips, nuts, and some pickles. The roads leading to Hickman weren't too challenging, but the distance was beginning to set in. That, and the back of my left knee was starting to feel really sore. More frustrating for locals, we knew leaving Krull House that we were being sent in the opposite direction of town for a good chunk of miles before turning back toward Hickman. Arrrrgh!

Oak rocking the Long Haul Trucker with a triple crank. Way to spin!

Oak, Scott, and Wes -- who rode his Surly Big Dummy cargo bike the whole way, dude is a machine -- caught me a few miles outside of Hickman and we rolled in to the gas station together. All the pizzas looked meaty, and as it was getting late, I didn't want to wait around for one without, so I grabbed a couple chunks of cheddar cheese and some peanuts and hoped for the best. Lots of folks were making the decision to get a ride or ride on, and with the sun going down behind a big and ominous cloud to the south, it wasn't a good time to chill out.

Also awesome in Hickman was the fact that Kit and Amy had come out and Kit had his bike stand set up doing neutral support for riders, cleaning chains and checking derailleurs. So nice! Amy gave me a big hug, surprised to see me there, and I headed off to the road to move on, thinking I might try to hang with the Wes/Scott/Oak crew. Kim Carveth and Scott Ideen were about to leave too, though, and as I was pulling out, Kim (whom I had been playing leapfrog with all day) asked if I wanted to finish together. I gave her one of the most definitive "Yes" answers I've ever given. Since we'd seen each other all day, it seemed like a really good decision, plus I liked the symbolism of finishing together. Hardcore cycling women rule!

She, Scott, and I pushed eastward into a bit of a headwind, and I quickly realized that I needed to hang on the back to keep up with their pace. Not a problem; we were in this together. When we turned on to a beautiful narrow gravel road -- 19oth/County Line Road -- I remembered riding this last year, when I was first starting to ride with the PCL crew. And I remembered it turned to dirt. Hoping that maybe there was a chance that they didn't get as much rain south of town as north, or that the sunny part of the day had dried things out a bit, I didn't say anything about the oncoming change.

Kim patches a flat on the side of the County Line Road/S. 190th MMR

And it was still totally muddy. At least this time, there was ample grass on the sides, so we didn't really have to shoulder our bikes, but at times, the sides were banked pretty steeply, meaning that feet were on one level and the bike was on another. My shoes were about 3 times as heavy as usual, with mud all filled in to the gaps in my sandals. Pretty gnarly. The hills on this road were pretty steep, too, and it wasn't possible to see where it ended. Kim picked up a flat, likely from the thorn of one of the locust trees on the side of the road. Meanwhile, Scott, who was riding a vintage Panasonic road bike, was having to make multiple stops to clear the mud from his brakes. The sun was going down fast, and we just kept hiking. From our cue sheets, this could be up to 4 miles long. Not fun at 2 mph.

As Kim changed tires, I took a moment to remember the beauty, a little flower stuck to my caked tire.

No photos from here to the finish. After the MMR oh-so-graciously gave way to white rock (never thought I'd be welcoming white rock), we stopped to clean everything off and get ready to ride again. Lo and behold, here come Lucas Orth and Brandon Wachal, who I hadn't seen since Brandon had fallen victim to unexpected single-speed conversion way back before Valpo. They stopped to clean their bikes, and we headed on into the dusk.

As we turned on our lights, I thanked the Bike Gods I'd decided to team up with folks. My rear light had stopped working, making riding gravel and MMRs -- or any roads on a Saturday night, for that matter -- completely unsafe. My front light worked, though, so we decided I'd ride in the front and lead the way, using my mountain bike instinct to find the best line, with Kim and Scott following. Thankfully, we only had a couple short stretches of MMR left, but flying down gravel rollers in the dark is pretty intimidating, too.

At that point, I was so bound to finish that I was riding downhill as fast as I could handle, letting the other two catch me on the climbs. We had one more oasis before the finish, and I convinced the other two that if they were still open, we should stop, at least to let Corey and Troy know that we were on our way to the finish. We stopped, slammed a little food (cold cheese pizza and a beer!), and talked with Schmidty about who we knew was still on course. Since we'd seen Brandon and Lucas recently and they were riding strong, we knew they'd be contenders to finish. Sure enough, a couple minutes later, they rolled up. Kim asked if they wanted to join us to the finish, and the 5 of us rolled out together, 10 miles to go.

Here was another local advantage: the street names were familiar at this point! We'd been just north of Van Dorn, now came A (where a car passed us and stopped, weirdly and at risk of dooring us, and I actually offered her help), then O, then Holdrege, then Adams, and then Havelock. Last turn! We knew we had a little more dirt, but it was all pretty packed down, so as long as you kept the line, it was really nice riding.

I was giddy, hooting and hollering about seeing the lights of Lincoln. Since the start/finish was really on the edge of town, it was dark and gravel until the last 50 yards or so. We saw headlights, and there were Corey and Troy, and my amazing housemates Diane and Liz (who rode 77 miles of the course and another 15 to get home!) waiting to pick me up. So awesome! Big hugs and high fives to the sweaty bikers, and jerseys to Kim, winner of the Masters' (50+ years old) Women Division and Scott, the winner of the Lanterne Rouge, a jersey awarded to the last place finisher of a race.

Huge, huge thanks to all of the PCL crew who helped put on the race. The oases were great, the secret checkpoint was awesome, and there were often folks along the way to monitor the progress of all the riders. Even bigger thanks to Schmidty and his uncle for hanging out late enough for us to come through, and for Corey and Troy being there at the finish. With huge time gaps, it couldn't have been fun to be waiting at the finish, but it made a big, big, deal for those of us who really cared about finishing.

Rarely do race organizers put out so much support and goodwill for the not-so-elite racers at an event. And really, that's what makes something like Gravel Worlds so special. Elite riders always have support and advantages, but this race isn't really about that. It's about pushing your body to the limit and having a crazy adventure on a bunch of minimally traveled roads, seeing the world from a different perspective, taking the impassable route and slogging through it because the cue sheet told you to, chatting with curious locals in the small town convenience stores where you buy your checkpoint Powerball tickets, waving to equally curious farmers along the route, and riding bikes with friends new and old who've come from across the country to explore with you.