17/09/2023
GERING, NEB â It was to be the farthest distance the cyclist had ever attempted on a bike - and at USA Cycling's first-ever Gravel National Championships to boot.
It was to be the first time the other guy had ever served as a SAG driver - Support And Gear - and was the farthest thing he'd envisioned he'd be doing when 2023 began.
Justin from Kansas City and Corby from Colorado were on a crash course to meet on course in Gering, Nebraska, Sept. 9.
⢠WESTERN NEBRASKA â˘
Last time I was here, my plan for 2023 looked much, much different.
It was mid-March, a week after the announcement was made that USA Cycling would be holding its first-ever gravel national championships. I headed up to Western Nebraska to scout what kind of terrain the elites and the mere mortals would try to tackle five months later.
My scout ride was just a short portion of the course, but one that contains the beautiful scenery of large bluffs that break up a horizon that otherwise goes as far as the eye can see. This part of the course also crossed the historic Oregon and California Trails on the way up to Robidoux Pass â a National Historic Landmark that was a gateway for those migrating out west in the 1800s.
While the scenery and historical significance of the area were inspiring, the winds coming out the west during my March ride were brutal. An hour and 43 minutes in 15+ mph headwinds were the hardest Iâve ever pedaled against in 30,000+ miles of riding. I felt for those that were going to attempt to race in these conditions, but my plan was to be a glutton and return to ride in the event myself.
⢠2023 AINâT BEEN HIP â˘
My hip and life had other plans.
The last time I rode a bicycle pain free(ish) was Co2uT in Fruita, Colorado, in mid-May. The last time I rode a bike at all was in early June. My hip seemingly gave out overnight. Walking has been a chore. Pain has been a constant â from my hip, back, knees, and neck. And any aspirations of being on a bike still seem miles and miles away.
So the full calendar of riding events I had on tap for 2023 ended alongside the Book Cliffs of Western Colorado.
Itâs been a s**tshow of a summer, but I wanted to still be able to see history being made by attending the first-ever gravel national championships. My thoughts were to just drive up to Gering the morning of the race, find a spot atop Carter Canyon Road or Robidoux Pass and take pictures of the throngs of riders climbing up as the race neared its conclusion.
It was an area I was familiar with from the March ride, an area I knew would look great in photos as riders climbed up the dusty gravel roads juxtaposed against the scenic bluffs.
⢠VOLUNTEERISM â˘
But in looking over the schedule of events for race day, I quickly realized I could still be a part of race day. Volunteers were needed as support drivers. These support drivers are on call to pickup riders that are basically having to end their race â be it for mechanical purposes, health purposes, a crash, or they just cannot push their pedals over anymore.
Luckily, over my cycling career, I have never needed to call upon a SAG driver, but certainly have wanted to a time or two. And I knew from my short experience at this part of the course, and the fact that my SAG shift was 2:30-5:30 p.m. for a race that started at 6:45 am, there was a good chance I would be picking some folks up. Thatâs a long, damn time to be on course, especially on this dusty, windy, unforgiving course.
I got the call from Aaron Raines, who puts on a gravel race on these same roads called Robidoux Rendezvous, about being a SAG driver. He assigned me to the exact area I had planned on being at anyways.
⢠GETTING ON COURSE â˘
After watching the elite riders cross the finish line â men and women ending their events by 1:30 p.m. â I made my way out to my zone near Robidoux Pass. I arrived at 2:30. On the drive over and up toward the pass, I did not see a lot of riders. It made me wonder how many were actually still out on course. But I also never saw the sweep wagon â the vehicle that drives the course following the last rider out there.
I did a couple of loops up and down Carter Canyon and Robidoux Pass, taking pictures here and there and admiring the same scenery I saw out here in March.
Then I drove by a rider who was kneeling next to his bike. This was not one of those kneels to take a break nor was it a kneel to fix a flat tire. This was a rider who looked like he was putting in some serious mechanical work on his bike.
I found Justin at the bottom of the Carter Canyon climb â a nearly 500+ foot climb in two miles. I drove up slowly, rolled down my window. âYou ok?â I asked.
He turns around with his rear derailleur in his hand.
For those not in the know, this is the piece on the bike that makes changing gears on the rear cassette possible. No changing of gears means, at best, you have one gear to work with. At worst, it means your ride is over.
He did not seem too phased or upset. He was at mile 114 of 131. He shrugged and said, âIâm going to try and turn it into a single speed.â I gave him that look that said, âYouâre a stronger man than me.â
If only I knew.
⢠MULTIPLE PASSES â˘
I told Justin I would be driving this 11-mile loop over and over and would check on him again.
I make my way toward the bottom of Robidoux Pass, see a few riders pass by and I drive up to the top. I keep making my way around to get back to where the Carter Canyon climb summits. I donât see my single speed guy until I begin another slow descent down Carter Canyon. Not far from the top, I see him.
Justinâs walking his bike. Heâs probably been walking his bike since the last time I saw him. Because heâs got one gear. Because itâs two miles. Because itâs nearly 500 feet of ascent at an average grade of nearly five percent.
He tells me the chain is holding but not very well. He has had to reconnect it a few times. He still does not seem deterred. Hell, heâs less than a football field away from reaching the highest point of the course at 4,837 feet. He wants to keep on trying.
I nod my head to confirm and tell him I will continue making my loops.
⢠NEW PHONE, WHO DIS? â˘
As a SAG driver it is not my call to pull someone off the course. It is up to the rider to literally make the call as to whether or not they want to make the call to end their day.
I head back to the bottom of Carter Canyon for the third time, and surprisingly still see more riders coming up and no sweep wagon in sight.
Iâm taking pictures, thinking I wish I could do this photog thing for the rest of my days, and then the call comes across.
It is a number I donât recognize, but the caller ID says âUSA Cycling.â I think to myself, âthatâs pretty damn cool that USA Cycling is calling me.â Then it dawns on me. âSh*t! I am working for USA Cycling today!â
âHi, this is Lauren with USA Cycling. We have a rider that needs SAG.â I tell her I have been keeping an eye on a guy that broke a rear derailleur and is having trouble with a chain, but he wants to keep going. Lauren confirms to me, âthatâs our guy. Heâs made the call.â
The tracking app USA Cycling has on me is also one I have on my phone. The app shows me where I am and where the riders in need are. There is a red plus symbol that shows up on the map. I can see where Justin made the call and my heart sinks.
âIf he only knew what I know,â I say to myself.
Heâs made it five miles and gained nearly 600 feet of elevation on his makeshift bike since I first saw him. Just another 70 feet up the hill and around the corner and he is relatively home free. If he has turned his bike into a single speed, he can make it. He would just have 12 miles and 282 feet of elevation to go â but 938 feet of descent.
⢠BEEN THERE, DONE THAT â˘
I know the course because I pedaled this portion in March. He has not. I know this course because I have driven it round and round three times today. He has not.
But it is not my call to make.
So I turn the truck around, head back up Carter Canyon toward the red plus symbol. As I am driving up, I see the symbol is still in the same spot but notice a dotted line and a crosshair symbol has bisected the top of Robidoux Pass.
He couldnât have hiked across the pass could he?
I finally make my way to the red plus symbol and there is no cyclist there. Thereâs no anything there. Iâm partially elated that he perhaps realized the downhill that awaited him just 70 feet from where he made the SAG call. I am also majorly confused as to how that dotted line crossed the pass.
I make the turn at the apex of Robidoux Pass and start driving downhill. I still donât see a cyclist. The downhill curves finally straighten out and I can see what looks like all the way to Lincoln.
Then Justin appears.
Heâs still walking his bike when I roll up to him for the third time on this late Saturday afternoon.
He is in good spirits. He doesnât seem wind worn, weather worn, having walked uphill for way too long worn.
I tell him I got the alert to pick him up, but I also point my eyes toward the downhill and the flatter lands to the east as if to say, âyou just have to make it down that and a little bit more to finish.â
Itâs not my place to tell him to keep going, but damn, heâs only 11 miles away from finishing a 131-mile epic.
He agrees, but then informs me that his chain is kaput. His bike is now a scooter.
⢠JUST(IN) DO IT â˘
Can he make it home on an 11-mile scoot? Heâs still in good spirits and ready to attempt it, and Iâm ready to serve as his personal sweep to make sure he can safely pull it off.
This will be the longest ride of Justinâs cycling career. This is the US gravel nationals. Itâd be a damn shame to see him stop now.
I say, âLetâs do it!â
I can tell he has that feeling of wasting another personâs time or feeling a little selfish for even trying. I tell him I will stick with him for as long as it takes. I got all the time in the world. As a guy who sees his 100+ mile ride days long past him, I am happy to live vicariously through anyone attempting such a feat as 131 miles.
He pushes and coasts, pushes and coasts, pushes and coasts. He alternates from left leg to right leg. He stops once to lower his seatpost to make the leg reach even easier. I swing ahead to take a few pictures of him passing by every now and again â I want to be able to send him pictures so this accomplishment will be well documented.
I am sitting back there, well behind him in my truck, feeling moments of admiration, jealousy, and pride that I am here to witness such drive to finish something one has started.
⢠S**T! THE SWEEPâS HERE â˘
We reach six miles to go together and at long last the sweep wagon shows up behind us. Heâs sweeping a tandem bike, likely thinking they have got to be the last bike on course.
I flag the sweeper down and tell him what has happened up to this point and what is happening. I tell him I can continue to sweep to see this thing to completion; he informs me that it must be him because that is his official role via USA Cycling. He doesnât seem too happy that itâs 5 p.m. and heâs going to have to follow what amounts to a scooter in to the finish for the next six miles.
So I relinquish my sweep, drive up next to Justin, tell him to âkeep it goingâ and that I owe him a beer when he gets into town. I drive on past and the last I see of him, he was having to walk up the last hill of the day.
⢠GHOST TOWN â˘
I make my way into downtown Gering and they are already starting to pull up the USA flags that line the chute into the finish line. Itâs just me, a flag puller, and a few folks inside the USA Cycling trailer.
Nary a cowbell to be found. Nary another rider to be found. Nary a local supporter to be found. It was depressing to say the least.
Then I hear from the trailer that there is a rider just one mile out. Obviously, I know who that rider is.
Iâm âinside the ropes.â Iâm the only one. I stand 10 feet beyond the finish line because I want to get the shot. I want to continue to document this for Justin. I want him to know that heâs not riding to the finish line alone.
And as I look through my viewfinder, here comes the Kansas City rider around the corner. He is still scooting. There is no downhill or even a remote sense of a downward slope to get to the finish. Heâs going to have to earn every mile.
He scoots across the line at 5:42 pm (and 15 seconds) to the delightful sound of something he has not heard in quite some time â the chalkboard screech of his disc brakes. He makes an almost oops, my bad face when the brakes make the noise they do, but then it is instantly replaced with an ear-to-ear grin of accomplishment.
Nearly four hours and five minutes after the winner in his 40-44 age group and four hours and 42 minutes after Elite Menâs winner Keegan Swenson (6:00.24) crossed the finish line, Justin clocked in with a time of 10:42:15.
I feel safe in saying it will be the best nearly 11-hour ride I will ever witness.
And without any pomp and circumstance, Justin crossed the finish line, cracked the smile, scooted his way another 30 yards down the chute, peeled off to the right beyond the barriers, and coasted down an alley never to be seen again.
I found his number thanks to his call for help that was never truly answered. I texted him to congratulate him on a helluva effort and offered to send some pics and videos from the ride.
He thanked me for the encouragement and simply said, âif youâre ever in Kansas City, give me a shout.â
Hopefully one day that can happen. But in the meantime I did not want to let the gravel nationals get too far removed before I gave Justin from Kansas City this shout out.
Allez, Justin. Allez.
