FOLLOWING
A NEW SCRIPT
After five months
of prep work, the Dirty
Kanza 200 had arrived,
and the Flint Hills of
Emporia, Kansas,
would be the final testing ground of all our
educated guesses. The
rolling hills would offer
no room to hide. I fully
expected to be writing
about the intricate details
and blow-by-blow of
how the race unfolded,
how my equipment and
nutrition choices helped
give me an edge until the
critical point in the race,
and how, at that point, I
would make my mark on
the race. The reality of
the situation ended up
being a stark contrast to
my preconceived notions.
So there I was at
5: 30 a.m., well before
the sun was up, sitting
on the start line with
the other 1,249 entries.
Bikes of every style were
there—custom gravel
bikes, adventure bikes,
mountain bikes, a road
bike or two, a couple fat
bikes, and the majority
being cyclocross bikes.
I felt a slight case of the
pre-race jitters, but more
so built-up angst of just
wanting to get the show
on the road. I had a time
goal of 12 hours, but
really it was just a guesstimate based on Dan
Hughes’ 2013 winning
time on the same course.
My goal was simple—
win. Whether it took me
11 hours or 13 hours, it
didn’t matter as long as
I was the first across the
line. Little did I know that
once I rolled off the start I
wouldn’t be crossing the
finish line until well after
the sun had gone down
and hours after the race
had been won.
It was finally time to
put into action what
had been months in the
making, and as our police
escort kept the group
calm on the neutral roll-
out through downtown
Emporia, I couldn’t have
been more confident.
Once in the dirt and
headed for the Flint Hills,
the pace was sporadic,
with some riders giving a
go off the front, knowing
that soon enough they
wouldn’t be close to the
front again, while others
(myself included) wanted
to be conservative with
any efforts made early
on. A few short climbs
helped trim the group
down. The flint rocks
lining the road kept riders
limited to two lines, mak-
ing it perilous to attempt
moving up in the group.
At one point I found
myself drifting further
back in the group than
I was comfortable with
and realized the danger
of being 40 riders back
on gravel roads—rocks
being shot out from
under tires like gunfire!
The velocity some of the
marble-sized chunks
of gravel fired into the
group was unreal.
A clean shot to the
head with one of
those could have
been a race-ender
in itself.
JUST ME
AND A
CHAIN TOOL
About 25 miles
in, we encountered a stretch of
muddy road that
caused havoc in
the group, with
riders changing
lines trying to
keep momentum
as their gears and
tires filled with
peanut butter-like
mud. And then
it happened. The
front wheel from
the rider alongside
me went into my rear
derailleur, causing the
hanger to snap in half.
Not even halfway to the
first checkpoint and feed
zone, my race ended.
There I was, along the
side of a double-track
road in a cow pasture
with my rear derail-
leur only attached
by the Di2 wire and
the twisted, mangled
chain. I went from trying
to win the Dirty Kanza
to not even knowing if I
was going to finish. I gave
myself less than a minute
for self-pity, and then
tackled the task
at hand—making my Crux
Evo rideable again.
Even though I thought
I was prepared for a chain
fix, I was hardly ready for
what this job required.
I had a chain tool on
my Lezyne multi-tool,
but its lightweight,
minimalist
aluminum