Active Theology

Unbound has been on my bucket list for years. On May 30, I finally lined up for the 100-mile race in Emporia, Kansas. What followed was a day of thunderstorms, peanut-butter mud, unexpected emotions, and one of the most unique experiences of my life.

Two days later, I sat down to start writing everything I could remember before the details faded.

Friday Night

As I’m packing up for Unbound on Friday, I can start to feel the nerves coming on heavier than ever. I’ve never done this before, or anything like it. So why did I decide that my first gravel race would be the biggest one in the world?! I’ve triple-checked my packing list, and it’s 3:00 in the afternoon, and I’ll go on to check it a few more times before I leave.

One thing about me, when I get nervous, my appetite starts to fade. So I force down dinner, and it’s time to head to my in-laws’ house, where my father-in-law, Gene, will take me to Unbound and eventually greet me at my checkpoint. 

When I arrive, I put my front tire back on the bike and notice the brakes rubbing, which causes the wheel to not spin very freely. For the next hour, I try to troubleshoot. I’m taking apart the brakes, recalibrating the brake position, all of the things I’ve never done before. I’ve had the bike for 6 months, plus I have never had disc brakes until now. So here I am, the night before, calling a friend, watching YouTube videos, and letting Haley talk me down from spiraling. Around 10 PM, we decide to head to Emporia even earlier in the morning so the fine folks at Merchant Cycles can take a look. 

I slept 4 hours that night. I was nervous about the unknown of the race. I wondered if the brake was going to affect the experience. 

Saturday Morning

Adrenaline was already flowing because when my alarm went off at 4 AM, I didn’t hit snooze. I was ready to go. We packed up and hit the road, listening to a few tunes, but mostly chatting and trying to get some breakfast in. 

We arrived in Emporia just before 6 AM, and I made it to Merchant Cycles around 6:20. The amazing staff saw me right away, assured me that it was going to be okay, and sent me on my way. 

Time to wait for my start.

I ended up running into a hometown friend, Jeff, whom I haven’t seen in probably 15+ years, so we used the time to catch up and talk about the road leading up to Unbound for us. 

As the race was nearing the start, I loaded up my Garmin, which would show me the route, speed, heart rate, and incoming text messages. But when we were minutes away from the start, I was getting a “?” icon on my location, and no route was showing. I checked it a few days before with no issues. I always wondered what the starting line of Unbound would feel like, but for me, it turned into stress. I immediately started thinking, “What if I never get the route loaded? Will I try to just follow people? Would that work? I know I have the route on my phone, but I really don’t want to use it the entire time.” 

And the dread of every cyclist…the event wouldn’t end up on my Garmin history. Would it ever count if no one saw it on Strava?!

The first 1.5 miles had me trying to figure out my Garmin issue. Turning it off, turning it back on. Reloading the route 2 times. All while riding in the back section of the pack.

Then, I finally realized the satellites got turned off. I got it fixed and now I’m “on course” according to my GPS. At this point, people started texting me that the Live Track wasn’t working, so now I’m trying to figure out the tracking because friends and family wanted to follow along, but I got it. 

The first hour was so fun. It was fast and surreal. I was participating in this event that I’ve paid attention to for 4 years. I chatted with the people around me a bit. At this point, I prayed and just thanked God for the opportunity to do something so unique and so fun. 

As those early miles ticked by, we were all headed towards ominous dark clouds with the sound of thunder growing closer. A gentleman from New York and I had a moment as we exchanged sentiments of how fun this was, but we knew it was probably about to get crazy. 

Miles 11-13

As the rain started to come in, the race quickly came to a halt. One hour in, and I was extremely thankful that I had grabbed paint sticks from Home Depot the day before. Haley ran in to get them, and I told her, “Get three so I can hand some out if someone else needs one.” Remember my friend Jeff from the start line? I ran into him at this point and gave him a much-needed paint stick. 

For the next hour, I walked, cleaned off the bike, and continually tried to find the best route to avoid mud…but there was no point in searching for a route. 

At one point during this “hike-a-bike” section, while I was up on the ledge of the road, I got too close to the barbed wire fence and ripped the sleeve of a brand new jersey. 

This had to be the most exhausting part of the race. The shoes each had 5lbs of mud stuck to them. My wheels stopped turning every 10 minutes. My chain fell off two times. The bike felt heavy and lethargic from being caked in peanut butter mud. Rocks and thorns were mixed into the stickiest mud mixture I’ve experienced. 

At the end of these terrible muddy roads, a volunteer assured us that limestone roads were ahead and conditions should be much better. But as the riding conditions got easier, the weather was about to take a turn. 

Thunderclaps grew louder as I started to enter the highest elevation point of the race, and heavy rain began to fall. 

Honestly, the next hour or so was a blur. Looking back, it’s hard for me to picture the roads and scenery that were around me. And I was excited for this section, which would have featured the rolling green landscape of the Flint Hills.  

Instead, I was looking through soaked and foggy glasses, trying to stay on the path. The rain was so heavy that it stung when it hit my arms for a few minutes. As we passed over the interstate, I remember seeing police lights and what looked like a car that went off the road due to the rain. 

I remember vehicles starting to come down the road as people began to call it because of the weather. All the mud from the “hike-a-bike” section had washed off at this point, so I was trying to remind myself of the positives…I was clean again!

Mile 30

At mile 30, it stopped raining, and it felt like I could keep going and enjoy the next few miles. At this point, I was able to chat with folks around me and keep pace with them for a bit. Out of the 1,000+ riders, I found myself next to a guy from Leavenworth, which meant we were practically neighbors. As the miles ticked by, I was drawing nearer to the aid station, and I could tell my body was ready for some food. I pulled out the chicken stick that Unbound provided in our SWAG bag, and I was so thankful for it. 

At this point, I see people taking breaks on the side of the road. Eating, drinking, and stretching. And even when my mind teased the idea of stopping for a break, I would quickly talk myself out of it and continue moving forward. 

Close, Yet So Far

Little did I know, I was about to run into another MMR (minimal maintenance road). As I pulled up, there were about 8 people standing there, discouraged at the sight of another mudfest that required walking. Some were audibly considering the option of dropping and taking a shortcut to the aid station at Olpe. To me, there was no question. I quickly hopped off and kept moving forward. 

The road was so bad on this mile-long hike that those around me and I found another path that followed along the road, but utilized the worn-down grass on the side of the field. 

Knowing this was going to take a while, I called Haley. I felt like I needed to update her on my time, because at this point, I knew it was going to take way longer than I had planned. But it was good to talk to her and receive some encouragement as I was nearing halfway. 

At the end of the mile, a farmer and his wife drove up and checked in on the riders. The Emporia locals were so kind and welcoming, and these little interactions along the way were so meaningful. 

After a short bit of rideable gravel, I was on pavement and knew the aid station was close. 

Olpe

Pulling into the town of Olpe felt like I had discovered an oasis. Gene directed me to the chip timer, so I had officially arrived before the cutoff time. 

I had typed out my checklist and stuck it in the cooler, so I started eating Uncrustables and chips, drinking Coke, and replenishing my bike and backpack. I didn’t plan on stopping for as long as I did, but I could tell I needed the extra rest. My heart rate sustained much higher numbers during the first half than I had planned. Walking through the mud was exhausting. Each step took extra effort compared to a normal walk. Plus, I was pushing a mud-filled bike, which meant extra weight and extra rolling resistance on the tires. I also attempted the CX shoulder carry every once in a while. 

Thankfully, the tailwind and dry roads out of Olpe felt almost like fast pavement, plus the sun had finally come out. I was feeling good as I watched the miles tick by at a fast, consistent rate. 

Mile 68 offered a neutral aid station, which I was expecting to come much later in the route. I didn’t need anything at this point, but I stopped anyway. I ate an orange that hardly sounded good, and I topped off my CamelBak. Keep moving forward. 

Mile 75

For whatever reason, this seemed to be a tipping point for me mentally and emotionally. 75 miles had me thinking, “I think I’m actually going to finish this thing.” But at the same time, music stopped sounding good, my energy was starting to fade, and I had become isolated on the route. 

One thing I love about my Garmin GPS is having text messages pop up right in front of me while I ride. Once I hit mile 75, more texts started to come in. “Keep going, you’re ¾ of the way there!”

Every text that showed up on my Garmin and every family on the side of the route cheering us on made me emotional. I was also thinking about how I was so close to completing this long-standing goal of mine. 

So at mile 75, I began crying. It didn’t last long, but I remember making a mental note: “Cried at mile 75. Not sure why”.  

Mile 78-80

I came across a small creek crossing that also turned into a MMR, so a little bit of walking had to happen at this point. I was okay with it. 

My back was starting to hurt. My stomach felt a little off. Music wasn’t going to be enjoyable and distract me at this point. So I continued to walk for another half-mile or so. I needed to slow down, eat something, and get my body ready for the last push. 

One thing I loved about this event was the sense that we were all in this together. Two guys on a tandem passed me and asked if I was okay. A couple of minutes later, another cyclist passed me and asked if I needed anything. 

Walking by myself with the sun beating down on me had me thinking about how I could call Gene and end this at any second. It had been an option from mile one, but for some reason, the thought haunted me for a few minutes. But I didn’t let it dwell, because there wasn’t much that could get in the way of me completing this thing. 

Once I hit mile 80, I hopped back on and continued pedaling. 

Headed West

After mile 80, I kept telling myself, “once I start heading west, I’ll be on the final stretch”. 

Around mile 83, I turned left and knew Emporia wouldn’t be too far away. I reset my brain from thinking “I’m 83 miles in” and shifted to “about a 20-mile ride left”. 

20 sounded easy at this point. 

The Evergy Power Plant west of town signaled to me that I was probably getting close. With the dark clouds coming in and being out there in silence, it was odd to hear an alarm going off from the plant. It made it feel like something from a movie, and like something was going to blow. 

Mile 90

That last 10 miles felt so good. I wanted to empty the tank and get to the finish line with nothing left. I tried to keep a decent pace and ended up averaging 15mph for the last 10 or so miles. 

When the routes all met up, I was surrounded by other 200 and XL finishers, which added to some of the excitement of the finish. 

I had no idea one last steep hill lay between me and the finish line, but all the pavement at this point felt so easy compared to what I had just been through.

Rounding the corner of the chute caused me to get watery-eyed again, but the screaming, clapping, and encouragement from spectators, including my family and friends, dried up my eyes and fueled me through the home stretch. 

Coming Home

After the finish, it took me about 2 minutes to get my socks off because they were plastered to my legs. 

Unbound taught me that goals are hardly accomplished under perfect conditions. I spent hours walking through mud. I thought my shifting was breaking at one point. The weather wasn’t perfect. But I kept moving forward and eventually reached my destination.

Also, I got a vanilla malt from Braum’s for the drive home, and it was delicious.

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Craig is a worship pastor at Wallula Christian Church and the creator of Active Theology. He loves coffee dates with his wife, reading, and riding his bike. A few of his favorite things are third wave coffee, vanilla ice cream, and plain t-shirts.