June 5 Emporia, Kansas 6:00 am GO! I’m in the front of the race, with about 160 racers behind me. The Police are taking us to the first turn onto dirt. A few miles later, and the race is on. I’m still in the front group, as we dwindle down to about ten. Around miles 15, I notice the front tire is losing pressure. DAMMIT! We’re approaching the first climb, and I have to pull over to put a tube in the front. We had been pushing a headwind, but in a pack, exactly what I had hoped for. I was told the front tubeless setup wasn’t confidence inspiring. I had ridden it twice, road and off road. I thought I had beaten it up severely enough to cause it to fail, but, on race day… Actually, the tire went flat on the drive out Friday, and instead of pumping and trusting, I should have been putting in a tube. My mistake. I watched the lead group fly up the hill, as my position was being eaten up by about 50 riders, as I stumbled through a tube installation. Pedaling again, trying to regain some ground. Miles later, I pass a group that looks serious. They catch me and I hook onto a rear wheel. We ride together for about 10 miles. I’m taking my own lines through the mellow stream crossings, most are dirt and gravel, and travelled often by farmers and ranchers. We come to a high speed descent into a water crossing, the group slows, gets in line to the left, and I blaze right. Maybe they knew about it, or were just following the leader, but I smacked an edge of concrete in the water. Up the other side, the familiar hiss, silent, hiss, silent, hiss, as the wheels turns and tells me I have a pinch flat. We were pushing a headwind, again, with a group to break it up, taking turns at the front, and feeling good again. Second flat of the day, good time to pee. My pee blows straight right, the wind is what they said it could be. I get on, feeling good, other than having lost the second fast group, all in the first leg of the race. I ride the remainder of the route mostly alone, occasionally catching on a wheel. The wind is now mostly at my back, as it should be, doing a 60 mile ride, half south and half north. We hit the pavement for the approach to the checkpoint/pit stop, at Cottonwood Falls. I rode too hard playing catch up. The pit goes good. I’m back out in about 10 minutes. Leaving the check point, the route markings get a little thin in town. Beautiful little brick town, brick road. Still populated with stores and people. I run into a group who can’t seem to find the route either. We make our way through, based on the last marker, and eventually get on route. Headed out of town on pavement for a few miles, got a strong puller out front. He eventually has enough, even with many lead changes, and drops off the back. Another SX rider, two geared CXers, and me, as we leave the pavement. I hang with the gears a few miles, as we drop the SXer. The sky is getting overcast, I’m hoping for rain, and I don’t care if it gets muddy at this point. I start burning, and drop back. The SXer catches up, and passes me. I’m thinking he’s probably one of two singlespeeders ahead of me now. I feel I’ll catch him again, as I watch the gap grow and grow. I’m starting to get a constant urge to pee, stopping often and actually conjuring up some waste liquid. I’m getting hotter as the temp rises in the day. Approaching the 100 mile point for the end of the second leg of the race, I’m feeling used up. Each hill is taking more mental power to climb. It’s hot. No, IT’S HOT! I roll into the second check point/pit stop, in Council Grove. The stop goes well, I get a huge hug, and a “You can do it, Dad!” from Ayden (my son), and a cheer from Rhian (brother in law with a drivers license). Ayden thinks I’m leaving around 20th place, and he didn’t’ see another singlespeeder other than the one that had passed me in the last leg. A good confidence booster, definitely. A long, hard climb on pavement out of town. I’m alone, as many racers were sitting in comfy chairs int eh shade at that check point. Hmmm, maybe I should have taken an actual break there? This leg has the infamous Little Egypt area, everyone talks about Little Egypt with reserve, and trepidation, saying the hills are long and severely steep. It’s farm country, how steep could they be? The route marking was excellent. A length of rebar pounded in the ground, a 3 ft. length of PVC pipe over that, with two long pink tapes flapping the wind on the top. Even a few rounds of reflective tape for after dark. Easy to see, well placed at all intersections and questionable areas, to help keep us on route. I get distracted by a dog at a house, on a fast descent. I absolutely miss a right turn to Little Egypt. Five miles later, I come to a highway. No markers. I get the map out for the first time, figure out where I am, and guess about two miles out of the way. OK, not too bad, but I did have to walk one of the hills, and now it’ll be just as hard going the other way. After about three or four miles, another rider is coming my way. I feel relieved that I was not the only one to miss the turn. We cruise, and discuss all the reasons why we might have missed a turn. We get to the turn, and there was no excuse, clear as all the others. Missed it, flying downhill, relaxing, behind the bar, watching that danged dog. The rider leaves me before we get to the hills of Little Egypt. Little Egypt is a road, a turn off, onto an much disserted looking piece of farm road. I walk most of the climbs, they’re a little steeper than others I’ve seen so far, and rougher, but a passenger car could still travel the roads. Riders are passing me on the climbs, as I walk. The next many miles, I’m looking at all the shade trees, and picturing laying underneath most. IT’S HOT! My arms are baking, feeling like I have placed them in the oven, at about 400 degrees. The clouds have all gone, too hot for them too. I’m dropping off, I want to walk each rise in the road. I get to the pavement, for a few miles, and I still want to walk. I get to the next turn, onto dirt, I must be about 10 miles from the next checkpoint, In Alma. The last check point, only 60 miles left after that. I’m picturing the headwind we’ll have back to Emporia. I have done the distance to get to Alma, but it included the wrong turn. I have been beyond baking for about 20 miles, the heat is something I’ve never experienced, even though I grew up in the humid hot south. I’m baking, and I feel like I’m approaching heat damage. I see the shade tree, at the intersection, where I’ll spend the rest of my life. I know I’m out. I lay there, try to get up to pee, feels like I’ll pass out, lay back down, wait. I know I’m done, every hill in the last 20 miles was a summit, with no reward. Always another one, higher. I’d be at the check point if I hadn’t missed that turn. I can’t do it, I can’t pedal any more, I don’t want to walk another step. I’m hot, I’m beyond hot, I’m past Africa Hot! Something tells me to end it before whatever can happen happens. I make the phone call. I take the ride of shame to Alma, as I try to convince myself I did the right thing. In Alma, there are no people stirring, except the promoter crew. Bikes are propped against cars, trees, and the few businesses that have air conditioning. I’m wishing I had not missed that turn off, I’d have pedaled here. My bike computer showed 9.5 hours of riding, and 140 miles. Not bad time, as I see it. Could be the fastest 140 miles I’ve ridden. Next year. May 16 Santa Fe Century I doubled this ride to 200 miles just to see if I could actually ride 200 miles in a day. About 15 hours, and climbing out of Madrid at the end of the day was brutal. I recruited a geared rider, we left home in Albuquerque at 530 am. Went north on 14, joined the century route at Hearbreak Hill, followed the route to Santa Fe. Left SF, followed the 50 mile route back through Galisteo, back to SF, and then towards Abq down 14. I was tired, but it worked, and I was imagining the DK 200 would be easier. May 22 Cochiti 100 The big one in the New Mexico Endurance Series. I was jokingly calling this a taper race, after doing the double the previous weekend. I took a comfy chair, a book, and beer and snacks to the staging area, thinking I may do one loop and hang out the rest of the day, tracking the other racers. I completed this one for the first time in 09, and I remember it being painful, and a long day, about 14 hours. Well, it was easy this year. Yes, I said it, easy. After these two rides, I’m beginning to think the DK200 will be easy. Well, it was by far more difficult and painful than either of the two earlier long rides. My list of excuses: 1. I did not get enough sleep the two nights leading up to the start, about four hours each night. 2. I should have put a tube in the front tire. The position lost, and the hard riding I did to “catch up” had a negative impact on my day. 3. Should have gotten to Emporia on Thursday night, had a day to go for a “hot” ride, rest, and relax. I hope to cover my excuses next year, and pull a good finish in Kansas. I thought the area was so beautiful, green, hills, old farms, barns and houses made of the local rocks, enchanting place for a bike ride, and a suitable substitute for all my dreams of riding in Alabama, where I grew up. I’ll see you again, DK 200, and I hope you are ready for me. I won’t conquer the race, it’s like a mountain, I’ll only a complete an idea of a journey dreamed up by a few Kansas cyclists, whom I see as immortals from my position, 60 miles behind the finish line. See you on the other side! Chris Hereford C Cow Active Knowledge excessive use of green)