no coast films

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.

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.

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.