The is the third time I have attempted Dirty Kanza. Each of the previous two years, the day of the event was hot and somewhat windy. Although we train in wind all the time around here, we often don't get extreme heat until sometime in June. In my two prior attempts we had temps in the high 90's and low 100's on the day of Dirty Kanza, and that was the first ride of the year in those kinds of conditions. As a result, there was little chance to adapt to the heat prior to the event. By contrast, this year the forecast was for highs in the mid-80's with a light wind. In addition, this year we'd already had some hot days. A week before Dirty Kanza I rode 120 miles on a windy day when the high reached the upper 90's. That day was also humid, so it was good preparation. I had a couple of other long rides on relatively hot days. Given the forecast, we all figured this would be the year records would be broken. It turns out that prediction was right. This year there was a record number of finishers, and the course record was beaten by a couple minutes. Even so, only about 60% of the riders who toed the start line, crossed the finish.
It was 48 degrees at the start, and we had our arm warmers and leg warmers out. They had gotten a fair amount of rain in the area the day before, and we weren't sure how the roads would be. With over 420 participants, they asked us to line up in goups according to how many hours we thought we would take to finish the race - over 12 hours, over 14, over 16, and over 18. This way the fast riders would not have to work their way past large numbers of slower riders near the start when everyone is bunched together. I took a spot near the front of the 18 hour group, as my only goal was to finish, and not to race this event.
For the first 30 miles or so, we bicycled in a long series of double pacelines. If you rode away from one group, it wasn't long before you bridged the gap to the next group. The roads were in pretty good shape, although there were some wet places that were soft, and there were some "dirt" roads that were sketchy. However, even the dirt roads were rideable. The longest and steepest climb of the day ("Texaco Hill") peaks around 30 miles into the course, and by the time riders crested it, the pacelines were much more fragmented and spread apart. It was on the climb on Texaco Hill that I eased back from the relatively swift pace of race pack riding into a pace that could be sustained for the next 170 miles. I took a short break at the top of Texaco Hill to remove my arm and leg warmers, eat and drink, and relieve myself. The next 35 miles to the first checkpoint were relatively uneventful, except for hitting a big rock on a fast downhill, which caused my front tire to flat. When I sat down on a smooth rock to change the flat, I noticed a big cowpie a couple of feet to my left and another to my right. It was just luck I hadn't stepped into either of these. This stretch of the course was through open range -- there are no fences keeping the cattle from crossing the road or milling about on it.
The first checkpoint was at 65 miles. I got there at 11:00 a.m., a good hour and a half ahead of the time limit, but I took a long break there, and was only about 40 minutes ahead of the time limit when I left. If I was in this to race, my long break would have been a bad thing. But, since I was only focused on finishing, it didn't matter. In fact, it was encouraging to leave a checkpoint and steadily catch and pass slower riders who had taken shorter breaks at the checkpoint. This is much better for the morale than being repeatedly passed.
The second checkpoint was at 105 miles. The second leg was relatively uneventful, except that toward the end we were moving into the hottest part of the day. Even though the high for the day was mild compared to prior years, it still felt hot out on the open road, where you are exposed to direct sun for miles. Even though, the second leg was relatively short, my fluid consumption matched the first leg, and I was just about out of fluids by the time I reached the checkpoint. I've been recovering from an IT band injury, and my IT band reminded me it was there throughout this leg. I rolled into the second checkpoint at about 3:00 p.m., once again 90 minutes ahead of the cut off. At this checkpoint, I drank, ate, stretched, changed shorts and my jersey, re-filled my bottles, and camelback, and by the time I had done all this, an hour had passed. I was only 30 minutes ahead of the time limit, as I rolled into the third leg.
The third leg was 60 miles, and the first couple hours were the hottest of the day. At first I moved along pretty well. However, by the time I was 15 miles into it, I was feeling the heat. My neck was stiff, my IT band ached, and my butt was raw at the points where it contacted the saddle. I was moving slower and slower, and I began thinking about how I had already ridden my longest ride of the year. If I rode a total of 130 or 135 miles, that would be a nice increase in mileage. Around miles 128-130 we rode along a creek, and there were trees alongside the road. But at about mile 130, we emerged from the creek area with a left turn back into the open. Immediately after the turn, there was a steep hill. Not too steep to ride, but at that moment I was fed up with hills, and I didn't want to climb it. After a couple of pedal strokes, I turned around and went back to the shade just before the turn. A rider went by and asked me if I was okay. I replied that I was, but that I was maybe done for the day. I sat down, and thought about calling for my support to come get me. But, first I ate a little, drank some, and listened to other riders as they came by me. They would turn the corner and start up the hill, which at this point was beyond my vision. About 6 riders went by while I sat there, and I could hear all but one reach the hill and dismount before proceeding to walk up the hill. Eventually, I realized I didn't have to ride up that cursed hill. I could just walk up the hill, re-mount my bike, and ride a bit farther. If I was ever going to finish Dirty Kanza, this was the day to do it, and I might as well ride until I was sure I could go no further. I could see how I felt at 135, then 140, and so on.
So, I walked up the hill, got back on my bike, and resumed pedalling. I noticed the time off the bike improved my stiff neck, aching leg, and sore butt, and at mile 135 I still felt fine. At mile 140 the aches and pains were back, so I took another short break. I was good again until about mile 152, where I took my last break prior to checkpoint 3.
Shortly before my last break, a pickup truck approached from the other direction. The sun was setting, and I stopped to put on my lights. The pickup stopped, and the driver asked if I needed help. I replied I was fine, and he asked how far I had ridden up to that point. I told him about 150 miles. He asked me how much farther I planned to go, and I said I would ride at least to Council Grove, the third checkpoint, which was about 15 miles away. Once I got there I would evaluate.
I took my last break prior to checkpoint 3 at the turn from a standard gravel road onto a narrow, two track, minimum maintenance road. While I was sitting there, a rider went sailing past the turn. I yelled out to him that he missed the turn, and he turned around and came back. He thanked me for saving him from going off course. He said he had been enjoying the fast downhill slope so much, he hadn't noticed the markers. Another rider saw him come back to the turn, so was ready for the turn. A few minutes later another rider came by, and went sailing past the turn. Again I called out, and he came back, thanked me, and said he had been enjoying the downhill so much, he hadn't noticed the markers. A little while later I finished my break, and resumed my ride, but I wondered how many riders would now miss the turn.
I arrived in Council Grove at the third checkpoint at 9:15 p.m. I had signed up for support provided by volunteers raising money for a foundation that benefits children with cancer. At each stop, I would make my way to their tent after I had checked in at the checkpoint. By the time I got to the third checkpoint my contact lenses had been so affected by fine, gravel grit, that I could hardly see. When I got to my support tent, I asked if there was a grocery or drug store still open, because I needed something with which to soak and re-wet my lenses. There wasn't an open grocery or drug store, but there was a convenience store. One of the volunteers said she would run down and see if she could find me anything. I pulled out some money, but she wouldn't take it. She said she wore contacts, and would just use whatever I didn't. When she came back, she had some solution. Luckily, there was an actual bathroom available, with running water and a mirror. However, I had trouble getting the right lens out, and must have lost it in the process. I had better luck with the left lens (my near monovision lens), soaked it, and put it back in. However, my vision wasn't really any better. The lens must have been scratched up. When I came out, I didn't have the heart to tell the volunteers that I still couldn't see worth a darn. I told them things were greatly improved, and they had saved the day.
I had a powerful light in my drop bag, and the volunteers helped me get it tightly fixed on my handlebar, so it wouldn't tip forward as I rode. While there, I had two cold cokes (Heaven!), and two slices of pizza. I had a new Team Impact vest, but I decided it would be warm enough to not need it. I unzipped my new Team Impact jersey, and removed my camelback vest to refill it. Once refilled, I put the camelback vest back on, then attempted to zip up my jersey. The zipper stuck, and then broke. One of the volunteers helped me figure out what the problem was. I didn't want to ride the last 38 miles with a jersey flapping in the wind the entire way, so I retrieved the vest, and put it on over the jersey.
By the time I left checkpoint 3 at 10:00 p.m., I was once again just 30 minutes ahead of the time limit. When I got into checkpoint 3, I asked my support if I was their last rider in. They said no, there were about nine others behind me. By the time I left, there was only one of their riders still to come into the checkpoint, and all the others had made short stops and left before I did.
I rolled out alone, with the world looking to me like Van Gogh's "Starry Starry Night." I hoped I would catch up to some other riders before my impaired vision caused me to miss a turn and ride off course. While I could see the road, I couldn't make out the best tracks in the road or see clear enough to read the cue sheet. Seeing the stakes marking the turns was a challenge. Luckily a few miles out of Council Grove I caught a glimpse of a flashing red light, and I eventually caught up to it. From there on, there was always someone nearby, and I was able to latch on to other riders and get their help with navigation. Over the last 38 miles, I caught and passed many riders. Many were walking up the steeper hills, but with the cooler temps and my earlier breaks I was rejuvenated, and I just plowed right along. I rode with a couple of guys for about 15 miles, but about 10 miles from the finish, they faded and must have stopped for awhile. I rode those last miles with Mike from New Mexico. When we got to the edge of Emporia, some volunteers told us which way to go. Mike ignored them, I did what they said (I think, but at that point who knows). A little while later a police car came up, and the officer told me the volunteers had told me wrong, and to follow his car. I did, and he led me back to the course and to the Emporia State campus, which I rode through. The course then exited onto Commercial Street, a few blocks from the finish line. There were many lights on Commercial Street, and the clouds or halos I saw around every light made it impossible to see clearly. It was 1:24 a.m. when I crossed the finish line. From the sounds, it was clear the street was lined with people cheering. As I approached the finish line the crowds were close to me on each side. I hoped I wouldn't hit anyone. One older child dashed in front of me. Thankfully, I didn't hit him.
I was congratulated by numerous people, who enthusiastically praised my accomplishment. I was given a DK 200 Finisher's glass. Behind me other riders were coming in, greeted by cowbells and wild cheers, and I made my way to the side of the festivities. I looked around for Martha, but couldn't see her. I assumed she was at the motel, and I got out my cell phone to call her. She didn't answer her cell phone, so I decided to try to look around some more for her. Shortly, I saw her brilliant, beacon-like, silver hair near the finish line. When I called out to her, she rushed over, embraced me, and asked when I got in. It was about five minutes earlier. She had been at the finish line that entire time, but she had been looking for the black, red, and white Pirate Cycling League jersey I started the day in, not the green and white Team Impact jersey I changed into at checkpoint 2 or the green and white Team Impact vest I put on at checkpoint 3. I told her I had thought she might be at the hotel. She said she initially thought she would wait and rest at the hotel until I called, but then she thought, "if David can manage to ride over 200 miles and finish this thing, then the least I can do is be there when he crosses the finish line!" I'm a blessed man.
Soon we returned to the motel, but we talked about our day's events for some time, and I spent a long time icing my IT band. Eventually, the IT band's anger lessened, and I could fall asleep. After several hours sleeping we were back up getting ready for the return trip. I was pleased to finish DK 200, but now I want to repeat in a year when this monster throws all its punches.
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