My friend Kevin was driving up from Wichita to ride 100 miles of sweet Flint Hills gravel in preparation for his run at the 2011 Dirty Kanza 200. We have wanted to ride together again to prepare for the DK200 and we were finally getting that chance. But I had one big problem with this plan.

Kevin can ride three hours on rollers and enjoy it. I can barely go five minutes before I start to hate it. I have to force myself to do an hour of the mind numbing activity. What I am trying to say is Kevin is disciplined in his training. He is also one of those gangly tall guys that are always fast on a bike. And he is fast. Maybe not Tim Ek fast, but a lot faster than me, which in reality is not saying a whole lot.

To remedy this, I calmly asked anyone that looks at the Adventure Monkey Facebook page if they wanted to do a Sunday Century with me this coming Sunday. It may have looked like a friendly invitation to a good Flint Hills ride but it was actually a plea for help. I needed some other slower riders to come with me. The problem with this plan is that everyone I know that is willing to ride a dirty century is faster than me.

I had only one taker, my friend Jed. Jed is not a gangly tall cyclist, rather he is a stocky, muscular hill climbing fiend. Oh well, I had the route mapped out so I guess they couldn’t get too far ahead of me. And if they did, that’s OK. I can maintain a good 14 mph these days so hopefully I wouldn’t leave them waiting for me too much. The good thing about riding with people faster than me is it pushes me and I need that.

Really the whole point to this is that is doesn’t matter what shape you are in right now – fat, thin, tall, short, out of breath walking up a flight of stairs or just plain lazy. Whatever your mountain may be, may it be climbing Mt. Everest or just getting off the couch and into better shape, you have to start where you are. Get started and don’t worry about how slow, fat, out of breath, painful or worried you may be. Just get outside and start living the healthy life you were meant to live. If a short, slightly overweight, non-athletic guy like me can do it, so can you. Seriously.

I must admit, I was stoked to be taking a couple of friends on a Sunday century with me. I mapped out a good one. It would end up being 121 miles and take us through five small towns north of Emporia. Here’s the route in case you are interested. Jed had yet to do 100 miles and I knew this would be good for him to prepare for the DK200. It will be his first year attempting the DK200. Three DK200 participants riding 100 miles of gravel. What could go wrong?

I was already stoked but the cherry on top was that I just received my new tangle frame bag from Eric at Revelate Designs. This guy is the real deal and his frame bags are top notch. If you are doing any kind of long distance rides, I highly recommend his bags. My goal was to get as much weight off my back as possible. I am using mine to carry a 70 oz bladder and supplies. I stuffed it full, since a little guy like me rides a smaller frame and can only get the small frame bag. I was worried about my knees rubbing it, but it didn’t bother me at all. I loved it.

my new Revelate Designs Tangle bag.

Kevin got to my house early. We shot the breeze trading manly stories and I drooled just a little bit over his new Salsa Vaya. Being a tall guy with a large frame, he can fit the large tangle bag on his bike. And as Kevin so eloquently put it, I could probably fit in that frame bag if things got bad for me on this ride.

When Jed rolled up to Adventure Monkey Headquarters, aka my garage,  Kevin and I were still talking and I was in my PJs. It wasn’t quite 8:00 and we had planned to leave at 8:00 so I wasn’t worried. We would easily get home in about eight hours or so. We had plenty of time. I could tell Jed wanted to get on the road, so I hurried up and put on my gear.

Jed and I both had our arms and legs covered. We had a North wind and it was supposed to stay in the 50′s all day. Kevin poked fun at Jed’s full body covering, but who would be cold later? Not Jed.

We got on the road and had about 15 miles of boring flat roads before the hills started. It was quite brisk outside and the thick clouds promised rain. Rain would ruin this ride. Some of the roads I mapped out were low maintenance dirt and would be completely unrideable with rain, not to mention the hypothermia.

As we rode I admired Kevin’s Woodchippers . I have those on the Fargo but not on my cross bike. Hmm, maybe an upgrade is in order. As you can see, Kevin is decked out in a full Fat Cyclist kit. I took a few shots as we rolled out into the countryside.

Picture taking would be at a minimum. I would be going faster than usual with the other riders and especially Kevin. He came up to Emporia to get his 100 miles of Flint Hills gravel no matter what. I knew he would want a good workout. As we got into the hills of the Flint Hills near Kahola Lake I had to stop for a shot or two. The grass is so green right now it almost looks fake. It is always like this in the spring after the field burnings. You can see some more field burning in the distance.

Kevin was pretty unimpressed with the lack of hills until we hit this area. Big hills, bumpy gravel and a cold north wind to pedal into. This should test all of our setups for the DK200. We just need to ride in some heat to really get ready.

We made it into Council Grove without much incident. We were all feeling good. We stopped at a gas station. My stomach wasn’t feeling great and I needed to try to do some business in the bathroom. It wasn’t a good showing, so I hoped that wouldn’t be a problem later. The gas station was so warm inside. We fueled our bodies with food and I let Jed know that the route should take us about 120 miles. His longest ride so far had been 80. He stated something about being happy to just get 100. Kevin on the other hand wanted closer to 150. Jed could probably take Kevin in a fight. I said something about roads for shortcuts just in case, but that was just to make Jed feel better. I wanted 120 miles.

We rolled out of Council Grove and had to hit some pavement for a few miles. The air was cold and my teeth were chattering. Warming up inside that gas station was a bad idea.

The boys got ahead of me which is how the day went for the most part. Then the first incident of the day happened. My rear tire suddenly felt bouncy, then it was flat. Crap. I got a flat on the Kenda Kwest. It had never flatted on me in well over 1000 miles, I wasn’t really sure how many miles I had on it, and that was the problem of the day.

I stopped on the top of the hill and the boys were way down the hill looking like ants. I hoped they would turn back at some point. I had decided not to bring a pump. I was out of CO2 and Kevin had a pump, so I figured one pump between us would be fine. I never get flats anyway right?

My bike had recently received a well deserved tune up and the brake cables were tight. I couldn’t remove the cable with my lady fingers. Crap. I saw the guys in the distance had stopped and were looking my way. Jed called on the phone and asked if I was OK, they couldn’t tell what I was doing.

“I got a flat dude. I need Kevin’s pump.”

They called first because they didn’t want to backtrack up the big hill if not completely necessary.

I was still struggling with the damn cable. To get some leverage, I used the screwdriver on my multitool. I almost had it. I got the tool under the cable and finally it was set free. As that happened the force of prying off the cable set the tool on a trajectory straight towards my pretty face. It found a home nestled inside my bottom lip.

“Expletive on top of more expletives!!!!!”

I put my gloved hand to my lip and yes, I was bleeding. I was bleeding a lot and we were about ten miles away from Council Grove at that point. Not only am I not great with tools, I am dangerous. I was worried. I blotted my lip a few more times with my glove and I thought about how bad my gloves stink and maybe I shouldn’t be treating an open wound with a bacteria laden cycling glove. But I had nothing else, so I blotted a few more times.

When the guys made it up the hill I had to then explain why blood was pouring from my bottom lip. They didn’t exactly call me an idiot, but from the sound of their laughter, it was well impled. I looked at Kevin.

“Dude, do I need stitches?”

He looked at the gash quickly and said, “No you’ll be fine.” In his mind the rest of that sentence said, “because I’m getting my 100 miles in, blood or no blood.”

Knowing this, I turned to Jed and asked again, “Dude, do you think I need stitches?”

Under his laughter he said, “No, I’ve had cuts like that  and I was fine.” I thought about Jed and his past experience as a boxer. I had no hope. then Jed said, “Gimme your camera, I gotta get a shot of this.”

OK, so it doesn’t look that bad in the picture, but it was. When I got home that night, it was still an open cut and was pretty deep. I am writing this two days later and it still hurts and will open up if I smile too big. I should have gotten stitches, but at the expense of a good ride? It just wasn’t worth it. It will heal. Maybe this shot should be on the trading card.

Just so you know, I do know how to change and/or patch a tube. But I guess for Kevin it was like watching an animal writhe in pain. He couldn’t take it any longer and changed my tube himself. I will admit, after gouging open my lip I was a bit shaken and out of it. I was still shocked that my Kenda had gotten a flat.

Kevin looked at my tire and asked how many miles I had on it.

“A lot of miles,” was as close as I could answer.

Kevin is an engineer and is pretty matter of fact about everything, but he didn’t say anything, because he’s also a pretty nice guy. But I know he wanted to grab one of those branches in the background and beat me for being so stupid. He was getting his 100 miles at any cost.

I will keep track of mileage on my tires from here on out. If you are coming to do the DK200, put new tires on your bike.

Here’s the hill they had to ride back up to save me.

We continued on. Every time I took a sip of water from the hose, my gash would open up. It felt nice. Now my gloves not only stunk and had homemade looking stitches in them to keep them together, but now they were also blood stained. I think I’ll do one more Dirty Kanza with them and then enshrine them on the wall of my garage.

We followed my directions turning here and there until Jed and I couldn’t tell which direction we were headed. Good thing we had Kevin’s nifty Garmin. I was secure about the route, but sometimes just confused as to which way we were headed because I didn’t have a map, just two sheets of paper with directions written on them taped to my handlebar. Once again, I know, I need a GPS.

We made it to the little town of Parkerville. We headed out of there on a low maintenance road when Jed had a flat. Kevin was well ahead and we had to wait for him to figure out that we weren’t behind him anymore. Jed was running one tubeless and one tube if I remember right. This one had a tube. Once again, we needed Kevin’s pump. Jed changed it and we headed out. I didn’t want to add too much time to our ride and was hoping to make up some time.

Before I knew it we were 64 miles in and made it to the small town of Dwight, Kansas.

There was nothing open in this little town and not many people around either. I wouldn’t have been too surprised to see some zombies come from around the corner. It seemed like a dead little town. The dreary weather didn’t help either.

At this point, I needed another application of butt butter, so I did that between some buildings hoping none of the small town folk would see me with my hand down my bibshorts applying lube. Yeah I know, gross, but very necessary.

Something was amiss down in my nether regions. I was hurting already, but putting on the soothing butt butter gave me a not so soothing feeling. It downright burned. Might as well hurt at both ends I guess. I took a couple Advil, got back on the seat and hoped for the best. Sitting on a bicycle seat with a freshly lubed burning sensation in my nether regions is not in my top 10 feelings to experience.

 

About seven short miles later we were faced with an underpass just before the town of Alta Vista. Kevin was in the lead and rode through it. We decided to climb over. As Jed struggled down from the train tracks, I thought it would be a good time for a picture.

Alta vista’s muddy underpass

We stopped in the local market at Alta Vista to refuel and get some more water. I stuck with my special trail mix formula and Cytomax all day. It worked perfectly, but it would be nice to test it out on a hot day before I face the DK200.

We were about 70 miles into our 120 mile route and I knew we had a ways to go. The good thing was the sun was starting to peak out. I was hoping for a nice ride home with the wind at our backs.

Heading out of Alta Vista it became Kevin’s turn to have a flat. He was tubeless. The tire wouldn’t seal, but he had some kind of superglue sealant in a little can that finally sealed the hole in his tire. Maybe he will let us know what that was in the comments. It’s some good stuff.

That flat took awhile to fix. I was getting maybe just a tad bit concerned about the time. But the sun was shining on and off and we had some nice roads to hit on the way home. Everything should be fine.

Then as we were on another low maintenance road, I heard that dreaded sound, hiss, hiss, hiss. My front tire went flat.

“How many miles on this tire, Eric?”

“A lot,” was all I could say. Luckily I was riding with some nice guys.

I had already used the one tube I brought, so I had to use one of the two that Kevin brought. Kevin proved to be very useful and much more prepared than the two people that actually live in the Flint Hills area. He was probably shaking his head at us on the inside. Of course we blamed him for the bad luck.

Jed strikes a pose for the camera as Kevin gets to work.

My assistants worked on my tire as I took pictures. Looks like I have hit the big time, since I have other people changing my flats now. OK, I think this was just to save time. Kevin is an engineer and can’t stand inefficiencies in his gear or his riding partners. I think he weighed all the options and figured it would be easier to change it himself. This was flat number four for the day.

Sometime after that, it’s all blurred together now, Jed had another flat. Number five for the day. He used some of Kevin’s super sealant and it sealed. We moved on. Jed was ready to find some pavement and take the safe way home. I really wanted to finish our route and so did Kevin. We checked the GPS and decided to stick to our route. We’d be OK. I figured that would be the end of the flats. I mean how much bad luck could we have in one day?

Then it happened.

Flat number six. My rear tire blew out with a force strong enough to blow some gravel dust as it blew out. I couldn’t believe it. I flated on my rear tire again and this time on a smooth as butter gravel road. My tires didn’t look horribly bad, but the Flint Hills will eat at any tire weakness you may have. Here is the split in my tire that would be the last straw and take us off route.

Now we had a real problem on our hands. This tire is a thin 35C cross tire. We tried to patch my tube to no avail. Kevin had another tube, but it was a thicker tube for a mountain bike tire. It wouldn’t fit in my thinner tire.

“We have no choice.”

Luckily I flatted by this nice log. Kevin and Jed stuffed that big tube in the little tire and aired it up. That was a feat. It worked. But now we really needed to figure out our route home.

We decided to get to pavement as quickly as possible and ride home. Blah. I dislike the pavement here in Kansas. Our highways around Emporia don’t have shoulders. The cars go fast. The scenery is boring. But with the gash in my tire, not to mention my lip, we had no choice. We used Kevin’s Verizon phone, since my Sprint phone had us in the middle of Council Grove which was like 40 miles ago. We mapped out the closest pavement and made haste since we were just trying to get home now. It was cold enough that every time we stopped we were cold and our muscles would tighten up. Our Sunday Century should have been over by this point in the day, but because of the flats we had a ways to go.

We finally hit pavement and formed a paceline. A paceline behind Kevin of course. He was still pretty fast at this point. A paceline is great. It makes it so much easier to ride unless you are the guy in front blocking the wind for everyone behind. That Kevin really came in quite useful.

Like I said, a paceline makes is easy, but only if you can keep up. I fell off the end and had to fight the wind on my own. No big deal, I still felt OK, I’m just not as fast as those guys and my energy level was pretty low. We rode on Highway 56 to Americus Road and into Americus. Even though we were on pavement, we had lots of hills to climb. And wouldn’t you know it, by the end of the ride the wind had shifted and we had a headwind again. It wasn’t too bad but just enough to make it tough.

All in all, it took almost 12 hours to finish 118 miles. That’s a long freaking day. I was feeling quite sore, more so than last week, but I maintained an average just over 14 mph according to my bike computer. That’s pretty good for me. But the most concerning thing to me, besides Kevin never wanting to come up and ride with us again, was my lip and my nether region. My lip had a big blob of dried blood on it and my bottom side felt like someone had rubbed sandpaper on it all day. If that doesn’t heal, I am in trouble for the DK200. Lucky me, I had my first real saddle sore.

My monkey was not only fed by this adventure, he was sucking his thumb, sleeping in the fetal position.

Seems like this ride really sucked, but to be completely honest, we all had a good time. Riding a bike is so much like our walk in life. It’s those really tough times that teach us the most. It’s also those tough times that we end up looking back upon fondly because we got through it. We had some tough times as a family when my stepson, Marcus, was young and Alex was just a baby. But when we get together now, we talk about those times with admiration. Only because of those really sucky, tough and troubling rides can we fully appreciate a ride with the wind at our back, the sun in the sky and no mechanicals to worry about. Rejoice in the suffering because we will be stronger on the other side. Here’s to new tires.

Feed Your Monkey!
Eric