Note: this post is about my first-ever Dirty Kanza 200 experience on June 4, 2016.
Read Part II – Prep / Training
Read Part VI – Hitting The Wall
Part VII – Checkpoint Two
Read Part VIII – Checkpoint Three
The second section of the DK200 course was difficult because.
- NW Winds 20 mph, gusting up to 30
- The hilliest of the course.
- Heat
I did not feel well and had eaten very little since Checkpoint One. I was getting dehydrated, had an intermittent cramp in the left quadricep and had just Hit The Wall.
By now Gregg and I were (mostly) riding within eyesight of one another. He would catch me on the downhill sections and I would pull away on the climbs or when facing the wind.
He didn’t have to tell me he was struggling and every time asked how I was doing would be the same reply. Talking (or even thinking) about it made it worse. Once he shared a partial bottle of water. It wasn’t enough but the gesture was.
I would have been much better with some fresh water. The EFS mixture was holding out in my frame bag but I had to force myself to drink from it and it didn’t quench my thirst. My mind thought I was dying – of thirst. My body was struggling too with fatigue, GI and heat distress.
At midday the sun was brutal and riders began clustering around what shade there was alongside the roads (not much). I knew stopping now would be a mistake so kept crawling along.
It was also during this section I got off my bike and walked a few hills. I did not count, but guess three or four. Some riders dismounted on every hill and pushed their bikes over. Many were limping.
Sometimes I would issue a lament, intended to be overhead in jest, to break tension during the climbs.
“I thought Kansas was supposed to be flaaat,” I would whine mournfully.
And the miles slooowly ticked away. I forced myself to avoid looking at the speed and distance meters focusing instead on things that could be controlled like heart rate, respiration and conservation of the remaining matches.
I recall walking up one particularly (especially) steep hill and noticing the heart rate was still hovering around 147.
Are you kidding me? If I have to work this hard I might as well be pedaling and vowed not to walk up another, and didn’t.
The cramping was kept under control. Occasionally the left quad would squawk and I would ease off.
I was still having fun. The hills were technical and required unwavering concentration and skill to navigate. Let your mind drift at the wrong moment and things go from bad to worse in an instant. These are the moments I live for.
It was around mile 97 that my thirst became unbearable. It was still 6 or 7 miles from Checkpoint Two. Normally not very far but under these circumstances perhaps too far.
I still had a little EFS left in the tank but again it wasn’t easing my thirst. I began to consider the damage being done to my body and calculated if it was worthwhile to continue.
Suddenly two jeeps appeared in the distance, kicking up dust, and sped toward me. After rapidly closing distance, they pulled alongside the road and several passengers immediately burst into view waving bottles of water in the air.
It was a sight of indescribable beauty. I pulled over, held out a hand and a bottle magically appeared in its palm. I poured it down in about three seconds and put out my other hand in hopes of another. That one straight to the jersey pocket. Held it out again, poured over my head. Ahhhh! Held it out again, also downed in a few seconds.
In a few moments everything changed. I went from the brink of collapse to a new resolve. Was I considering a DNF? Not only no but HELL NO!!!
And I unlocked the Roadrunner’s cryptic message, before things got so damn crazy. He was saying Use Them Jeeps 
Gregg caught up about then. We rode the last few miles into town together, lightheartedly bantering with the locals, smiling and exchanging high fives with the children, basking in the glory of the moment.
Something about this race… sinking to the lowest possible level and just when it’s maybe too far down, back upward again. Up and down. Down and up. Sort of like the Flint Hills themselves.
Who are these people of the southern plains, clinging to the last bastion of tall grass prairie on this planet? They are wonderful. I’ll never forget their kindness and generosity of spirit.
Checkpoint Two a Turning Point?
I’ll not call it that yet, there were still hurdles, but things were starting to go our way.
Our support team was now +1. Kelly, who’d stepped off the course at Checkpoint One (more on that later) was now working in our pit full time. This added a pair of hands for the bikes, to load bottles, and another brain to help troubleshoot problems.
Kelly and Cheri knew we were both in trouble. Gregg was sitting in a semi catatonic state and I refused to eat. They poured water on Gregg and began putting things in my face to eat. I would wave them off.
No sandwich, no payday, no rice cakes. Pickle? I think I’ll try a bite of that. Yuck . Water melon? OK let me try that (not too bad). Jerky no. Gu no, chips, cookies, oranges, no. You have a homemade barcake thingie made just for us and this race? Normally I’d be all over it but right now… NO.
What’s that a cracker with a little tuna on it. Let me try that. Well that isn’t horrible, ok, I’ll try another, and another…
Here I am at Checkpoint Two, Eureka KS
Kelly is a marathon runner and he’s dealt with his share of cases of exhaustion. He pointed out that my voice had that raspy sound runners get just before quitting.
What me quit? HELL NO!! It was here that I formulated a battle cry that would be carried over the next 100 miles.
The only way I’m quitting is…
- Getting kicked off the course (because I missed a cutoff)
- Left leg fully cramps
- GI distress becomes acute (no description needed)
Gregg is putting on a brave face also.
We managed to get in and out of the Checkpoint Two in about 20 minutes which was a bit better than the first checkpoint. But time was not on our side.
Leaving town somewhere before 4pm meant there’s a hell of lot of real estate left to cover and we still haven’t turned north yet, back into the wind.
My hope was with the sun dropping, so too would the temps and the winds. The weather patterns seemed to support that hypothesis.
We shall see…
Next Post: Part VIII – Checkpoint Three
