Dan Hughes – 2011 DK200 Solo Champion

Dan Hughes DK200 First Solo - Photo Shawn Honea at IM Design Group

Story by – Dan Hughes,

It’s been almost a week since the 2011 Dirty Kanza, and I’ve struggled to write a race report that is as eloquent as those that I’ve read from my fellow gravel brothers and sisters, and one that is as worthy as this great event deserves.  In the end, I’ve decided to abandon that quest and instead write a race report that probably reflects my own personal style at the DK: namely…bloated, brutish, and most likely, boring.  But here you go:

Before I start on this year, let me spend a few words on the past editions of DK.  As a Kansas rider, it’s very gratifying to see the DK grow from a small-ish event that started and ended in a motel parking lot, to the community-wide event that it is today.  This growth keeps me coming back year after year and much praise should be heaped on Jim, Joel, Kristi, Tim, Matt, and many more for making this event something really special.  After finishing in 2006, 2007, 2008, crashing out in 2009, and being on the sidelines for 2010 due to a broken collarbone, I thought I was done with my Dirty Kanza fascination.  But after seeing the way the city of Emporia came out in 2010 for Corey Godfrey’s great win in front of the Granada Theater, I knew I had to come back at least one more time and try to finish there.  So, many many thanks DK200 organizers!

This year’s race and my build-up for it were typical DK fare.  Ride a bunch, try to get in shape, agonize over nutrition on the bike, deliberate about equipment choices, and then, in the final week, second-guess all those choices and throw all the previous decisions out the window.  This process led me to toe the line on June 4 with about 300 other hardy souls for what was advertised as 204 miles of gravel goodness.  My final equipment choice was my trusty Independent Fabrications Ti cross bike (with its critical three bottle cages) and some Mavic Ksryium ES wheels mounted up with Schwalbe Marathon Extreme 700×35 tires.  Tire choice is always a hot topic at the DK, and I myself had taken off my tubeless Hutchinson Bulldog tires on Shimano Dura-Ace tubeless wheels in favor of the tubed Schwalbe setup.  Luckily I threw the extra wheelset in the car…

6:00AM came early as always and after Race Director Jim Cummins opening remarks, we rolled out of Emporia under a neutral escort.  As soon as we hit the gravel the pace picked up considerably, seeming much faster than previous editions.  I’m not sure if it was the impetus of the tandems, the strength of the solo riders, or the gravel conditions, but we were flying.  My plan for the early miles was to hide out and let others set the pace, figuring that the course and the conditions would make the selections, and it wasn’t up to me to drop the hammer.  Well that, and doing so would have been suicidal.  As we rolled along for the first 20 miles I sat comfortably in the front group, chatting with former winners like Mike Marchand and Steve Goetzelman, and strongmen like Troy Krause and Joe Fox.  The one person missing was last year’s winner Corey “Cornbread” Godfrey.  I asked about his whereabouts and was told that he had flatted within the first few miles of the race.  “Bummer” I thought, “it would suck to flat early in this race and be forced to chase when everyone is still fresh.”  Those were somewhat prophetic words as it turned out.

After looking at the map for the first section, I knew the first difficulty of the day would be “Texaco Hill” at about mile 30 or so.  Texaco is not overly long, but it is steep in spots and would certainly be a place to be aware of people moving up the road.  About three miles before the first climb, just as I was thinking how smooth my wheels were rolling, I heard the telltale hiss-boom of a good-sized puncture.  At first I couldn’t believe it was my wheel since I was running the gravel road “king” of tires…the Schwalbe Marathon Extreme.  What followed was a good lesson in how tough the DK can be.  The front tire had a big slash in it (big enough for me to stick my index finger through), and I quickly went into damage control mode.  After some well-chosen curse words, I pulled the tire off, booted it, threw in a new tube, and started pumping it up.  During this time, the lead group obviously went down the road and many people passed me by.  As I was getting ready to remount the wheel, I noticed the boot wasn’t properly positioned and a good size portion of tube was bulging out of the tire.  I deflated the tire, repositioned the boot, and started pumping again.  Truthfully, I was ready to throw in the towel right there, but luckily a friend rolled by at that moment and reminded me that I was getting my ass kicked by people I didn’t want to have my ass kicked by.  Thanks for the motivation, Chris.

Flat “fixed,” I started to chase.  On Texaco Hill, I went by Nick Legan from VeloNews and as best I could through panting breaths, thanked him for coming out to Kansas.  It’s always nice when a Kansas event gets on the big stage.  Over the next 30 miles to the first checkpoint I chased mostly on my own, reaching a group here and there, but not lingering in their slipstream too long (if at all) for fear that I was falling further behind.  At about mile 50 I ran into my friend Jason from Colorado and we rode together for awhile in a demoralizing crosswind.  Jason had some tire issues himself, and I was glad for his company, bearded though it was.

Just outside of the first checkpoint, we ran into a group of riders coming backwards on the course and I knew I had made the first of my two “lemming” navigational errors of the day.  I was surprised to see Troy Krause in the group, figuring he would be far ahead given how strong he is, but at the same time I was pleased that it appeared I might be making progress towards the front.  We rode mostly together to the first checkpoint in Cassoday and I grabbed a quick pit stop.

Let me just stop for a moment and thank my pit crew.  Collin (and later Tom) did an exquisite job of keeping my stops brief and efficient.  Without them, there’s no way I could have finished the race, much less had a high result.  Thanks guys!

I got the spare wheel (Dura-Ace with tubeless Hutchinson) for the front, refilled my nutritionals, grabbed the new map and struck off for the second leg of the race.  This section featured a nice tailwind and making the most of it, I reeled in folks as quickly as I could.  I passed 2010 top-5 finishers like Mark Walker and Joe Fox (who was riding with Eric Brunt and Tim Ek) and soon caught up with the 2010 open men’s champ Corey Godfrey (who had quite nicely passed me while I was fixing my early flat).  Figuring that I must be nearing the front end of the race, based on the strong legs around me, I floated with Corey for a few minutes until we caught sight of 2009 winner Mike Marchand and Kevin Thomas from Salida, CO coming backwards on the course.  Cue lemming navigational error number 2.  It was only a couple of extra miles, and I was happy to be among the leaders again, but by the time we got back on course there were several riders ahead that hadn’t made the wrong turn.  We re-grouped with them, and then on a little section of two-track goodness, suddenly it was just Mike Marchand and I rolling along.  I’m not sure if the others doubted our map-reading skills, or simply fell back, but in the end, I had only Mike for company.

This gave me flashbacks to 2009 when, after crashing at mile 120 on Little Egypt Road and proceeding to “yard-sale” my stuff all over the place, I was passed by Corey, Troy, and finally Mike as I assessed my bloodied knee, cracked helmet, and tweaked back.  After 25 more miles, the adrenaline ran out and I pulled the plug in Alma, but not before being convinced that Mike would go on to win the 2009 event.  Simply put, he was a machine on the bike and moreover, was speaking in complete sentences to my monosyllabic grunts.  2011 was no different, minus the crash.  Mike was riding…and speaking well…and after navigating the cooling creek crossings and climbing the monster hills into the monster headwind together, I had to let him set his own pace.  Besides, he’s lousy draft for someone my size.  I tried to keep him in sight, and shortly before the second checkpoint in Florence, I saw Mike stopped in the middle of the road.  “Cramps” was his reply as I scooted by, and from there I soldiered on to the second check, sure in the knowledge that I would see Mike again.

Reaching the mid-way checkpoint I was happy to see my family and crew waiting for me and after a sunscreen re-boot, chain lubing, and quick stuffing of my face, I rolled out in 4^th place overall.  Ahead were Lance and Barbie on the tandem, Mark Cole on a geared bike, and Gunnar Shogren on a singlespeed.  I set my sights on hunting them down, but I knew this section of 60 miles would be the toughest of the race.  I had loaded up on four full size bottles, and swapped out the rear wheel for the matching Dura-Ace tubeless set-up (the Mavic freehub having developed a nasty creak), thinking that the next leg, with its apparent tailwind would be hot and brutal.  That turned out to be correct.

The afternoon sun was baking the gravel surface and I felt like all the heat was being radiated back to me.  Combined with a total lack of air flow over my body due to the tailwind, I quickly went through my four bottles and had to start rationing water about 10 miles out from the checkpoint in Council Grove.  For me, the mileage between 120 and 160 is the “wall” of Dirty Kanza.  I want to quit there every year.  And any excuse will do.  One year it was “if Casey’s is out of pizza, I’m done.”  Unfortunately that year, they had slices to spare.  So I plodded on towards Council Grove, the whole while thinking about the sage advice from a spectator at the Florence checkpoint: “you’re running those tires?  So-and-so got six flats on those tires last year.  They’re too soft”  Gee, thanks for the boost of confidence!

Near Diamond Springs, I spied a couple of riders in the distance and started reeling them in.  When I caught “them” they turned out to be “one” and it was Gunnar aboard his singlespeed.  After pinning it all day at the front, I think the wheels were coming off Gunnar’s wagon, and as I passed I managed a weak “you’re looking good” to which he replied “I feel like @%&*.”  At a minimum, I thought he looked better than I felt at that moment, and since I was hallucinating that there were two of him, I felt he couldn’t be too far off.  I pedaled on and after an interminable last five miles into Council Grove, I finally made the 3^rd checkpoint.

I’ll admit that I wasn’t in my right mind or body at Council Grove.  I owe an apology to Mark Walker’s dad for barking at him to get out of my chair, but at the same time, it was either that or collapse on the ground.  The chair seemed closer.  So, sorry Mark Walker’s dad!  My support crew rallied around me and re-filled my bottles, soaked my head with ice, and generally brought me back from the dead.  I was told later that I was as white as a sheet, but all I really remember is being told I was the first solo rider in, and that the PBR in the cooler looked pretty good.  Not being one to deny myself, I chugged one before setting out for Emporia.  I’m not sure what happened to Mark Cole during that stretch as I never passed him on the course.  Perhaps a navigational error derailed his day, or the heat overtook him.  I’m not sure even to this day.  But I knew that I was in reach of the solo win and so I left Council Grove shouting “last call” for anyone that cared to listen.  I think the nice lady taking down rider names and numbers was more frightened than amused.

The route from Council Grove started with a pleasant rail-trail, shaded by some great trees.  Even the slight headwind was a cooling relief at that point.  I cranked some tunes on my iPod and headed for home.  Full disclosure: I have rampant “horse-barn” syndrome.  If I know the mileage and terrain to go on any ride, I can do a pretty good job of metering out my effort for maximum effect.  Looking at the map, I knew that there would be some sizable hills for the first few miles, but eventually (past Americus) the route would be largely flat.  So I just rolled.  I remember stopping for a “natural break” and thinking that certain things shouldn’t be the color that they were, but on the whole, this last leg of the trip was highly enjoyable.  I noticed a storm building to the west, but it never rained a drop on me.  The lightening was something of a concern (“why am I the tallest thing out here for miles, and why am I straddling a piece of metal?”), and truth be told, had Jim Cummins come out on the course and told me that they were freezing the results as they were and pulling riders off the course because of the risk of electrocution, I would’ve been totally fine with not pedaling my bike another inch.

But the lure of the finish line in Downtown Emporia was drawing me on and I managed to roll quite comfortably into town.  There were a few moments of looking back and seeing spots on the road that my fatigued mind interpreted as phantom riders that were chasing me down, but as I ran the red light at the top of Commercial Ave. (after waiting for cars to pass and asking the nice lady across the street if she thought I should run it…she said yes), I knew that no one was going to come around at the last second.  Barely able to raise my arms as I crossed the line, I was greeted by my enthusiastic crew in a shower of really cheap champagne.  And it tasted really good.

My stats for the day were exactly what I had hoped for:207 miles in 13:09 and first solo finisher over the line, making me the first two-time winner of the event.  I had managed to cut the lead of the Lance and Barbie in about half over the last 43 miles finishing just 16 minutes behind them, but in truth, you can’t catch what you can’t see, and I never saw them.  Kudos to them!  My time was also in line with some of my best times at DK and I can only think that this was due to the excellent support I received from my crew.  They made it so all I had to do was pedal.  Thank you Collin and Tom!

In retrospect, I might be over the Dirty Kanza.  After finishing four times and placing 1^st, 2^nd, 2^nd, DNF, DNS, and 1^st, I’m not sure what more I can accomplish there.  This year’s effort was certainly the most memorable and will be almost impossible for me to top.  My 10-year-old son has also expressed an interest in riding the DK Lite next year, and that would be a lot of fun, so I might take a pass on next year.

Nah…I say I’m never coming back every year…and every year I come back.  The Dirty Kanza is too much fun, and too much gravel to miss!