Unbound XL Reflection

Another year and many more Kansas miles added to the heat map. Over 2100 miles raced at Unbound alone. I’ve carved my way over, through, and around these Flint Hills, imprinting my heart in this soil. And sometimes peanut butter mud.

With every pedal stroke, and mile traversed, I become more grateful to have the opportunity to do so. That doesn’t necessarily mean it’s any easier. My body has been bruised and my heart has been broken. But I’ve also found so much of who I am out there. Dorthy said it best, “There’s no place like Home.” Kansas gravel is where I feel most like me.

I’ve not really spoken about this, but I’ve struggled with body dysmorphia for a while now, and probably most of my life.

First it was being a “tom boy,” yet having a chest, and hiding it with my poor posture and large swimmer shoulders. Then it was the freshman 15 and being in tiny swimsuits and struggling with figuring out my hormones and birth control and Crohn’s Disease. After college and moving to San Diego, the land of 10,000 skinny triathletes, I felt like my body fat percentage was automatically being calculated with an imaginary sign above my head for all to see. Transition to road and crit racing, even at the highest level (UCI pro race) I remember seeing a comment about how I’d benefit if I lost 15lbs. Don’t even get me started on the European gravel scene.

I get it. I’m not the “ideal” body type for bike racing. I’m a quarter Native American. My mother loves to bake. I got the sweet tooth and indulgent genes. But I also grew up in the 90s, where diet culture ruled the airways with weight watchers, slim fast, and fat free everything.

But nature / nurture, a whole lotta drive, determination, and a big PMA has brought me to some pretty incredible accomplishments. MN high school state champion, multi-time collegiate All-American and conference champion. Ironman finisher. Beating the sun at Unbound 200, and now a 4-time Unbound XL finisher to name a few.

I can do hard things. And when you’re not the ideal body type - guess what? It’s even harder. Just because I’m near the back, doesn’t mean I’m party pacing.

Racing in Europe all spring was fun, but also very challenging. Very mountainous. Very euro pro, and with not a whole lot of folks who looked like me. These events were “fun” but can also be exhausting to emotionally endure, alongside the physical test. And the looming threat of cutoff times.

I’ve been racing bikes since 2008. 17 years. Did you know 17 is my lucky number? I tell everyone. I have so many miles in my legs and in my heart, pedaling all types of bikes over nearly every terrain. (Snow & ice, I’m sorry but I don’t think I can ever endure another Minnesota winter. Arrowhead 135 or Iditarod won’t be added to the bucket list.)

What I mean by saying this, is that when me, an accomplished, extremely experienced rider, can be “stressed” by cutoff times, how do you think the newbies feel? How many people don’t even register? Is gravel welcoming to the everyday folks? Is the media so pro focused we forget why we do this?

I’ve loved seeing the reasons why reels about “it’s supposed to be fun” which resonates so clearly for me.

This Unbound prep wasn’t typical but who’s is? I hired a coach last winter because as I’m getting older, the ability to “just wing it” is becoming increasingly harder. I gave her a challenge with many bucket list events scattered in between structured training. I haven’t been coached since 2018 so it was interesting to see my TrainingPeaks account loaded with workouts to accomplish each week. I think I was a pretty good student.

Anyway. Back to Kansas. The rolling Flint Hills. The constant pedaling. The tall grass fields. The mud, ruts, minimum maintenance roads. The cows. “Hi cows!”

I love Emporia. Have I told you this before? I love my ride from Arkansas to Kansas a week before the big dance. I get it, my prep is unconventional and doesn’t necessarily set me up for “success” in the typical definition. Surely not in a TSB score. But it gets my mind ready and makes my legs happy.

I’m lucky enough to be welcomed into a warm Emporia hug when I arrive. Kristi meets me at Mullreadys for a celebratory beer. My bed is ready at the Rech’s. We make family dinner, drink mules, and play cribbage all week. Instead of previewing the course and mucking up my bike unnecessarily, I’m visiting the local chiropractor, volunteering at the bike shop, eating tacos, and napping on the leather sofa. I get to watch the town transform from Emporia, to the world’s premiere gravel race location, and back again.  Teammates trickle in and before I know it, Friday at 3pm is here.

I acquire my traditional Untapped maple creamee, drink an espresso delivered by Ken, hug Meg goodbye and hold back tears. As I remove my helmet during the National Anthem, they fall down my cheeks as I think of Kyle back home. I make sure to thank my body and mind for being ready for this challenge ahead. And we’re off…

31 hours, 18 minutes, and one second later, I crossed the line with my two new best friends. I collapse into the hugs of my teammates and friends. I’m grateful (and maybe a little bitter) for the journey traveled. I don’t know how many more I have left, but I do know it’s at least one more big one.

Kansas that one hurt. I’m incredibly proud of our perseverance and tenacity, but that one took quite a bit to get done. Actual race report to follow.