Photos by Linda Guerrette, Jason Ebberts, Tim Mohn, and Dan Hughes. Words by Dan Hughes. Punk quotes by Charles Hughes. 🙂

When Kristi Mohn, marketing manager for Lifetime Fitness’ alt-surface events, called and asked if I wanted to start last at Unbound Gravel as a charity drive for the Outride Foundation, my initial thoughts were two-fold:

1) “You must not want to make a very big donation, since the amount is based on the number of riders I pass,” 2) “I need to ask my kid if he’s up for it.”

Charlie, my middle kid, has been champing at the bit to do the 200-mile distance of the Emporia race since he was thirteen years old. Problem was, you have to be sixteen on race day and since his birthday is at the end of June he was always eleven months behind. To compensate, since he wasn’t old enough, we went and did different races like Rebecca’s Private Idaho, Gravel Worlds, etc. During the last pandemic year, when he would have been old enough at sixteen, there was no race. And we didn’t ride bikes. Really…at all.

When the time came for Unbound this year, there were a lot of unknowns. Could I, in the worst shape of my life, actually pull off my eleventh 200-mile finish? Could Charlie go farther than he ever had before, especially given that he was the youngest rider in the race at seventeen? And could we both bear the extra weight of doing it for charity? We decided maybe we should practice riding bikes a little.

In the weeks leading up to the event, we did some short rides around Lawrence, and then one 100-miler in the Flint Hills taking in the first and last parts of the 200-mile course. We took our time, and on more than one occasion the mid-way stop included multiple slices of pizza from Casey’s. Charlie was feeling confident (what 17-year-old doesn’t?), but I knew that we had a big ask in front of us.

I decided to call in as many favors as I possibly could. My first call was to Nick Legan at Shimano, asking to beg, borrow, or steal any parts that would make us faster. He didn’t have an “instant fitness for aging gravel legends” machine, but he did manage to secure a pair of shoes that were actually the right size for Charlie (instead of some hand-me-downs from me), and a pair of wheels that were lightning quick. If something were going to derail our effort, it wasn’t going to be equipment.

In the days leading up to the event, there were some media asks related to the charity aspect of our ride, and while Charlie let me take point on many of those engagements, one thing was clear: folks were betting on youth over experience. Simply put, more folks were ponying up money for the youngest rider in the race than for the guy with the most wins in the race. Classic.

Before I go further, I should explain about the Outride Foundation and what we were riding for (and how it worked). The Outride Foundation, originally grubstaked by Specialized Bicycles, now stands on its own with a mission to get kids on bikes and make sure their nutritional needs are met in school. Lifetime Fitness had already pledged a significant amount to the cause, and it was up to Charlie and me to help backstop it. Folks could pledge money in one lump sum, or on a per-rider basis. Some folks pledged 10¢ a rider, one guy pledged $5 a rider. It all went to charity. During the rider meeting, Kimo Seymour, of Lifetime Fitness, asked me how many riders I thought we’d pass and I nonchalantly said “500”, because that was about half the field. I had no idea what we would actually do, but it seemed like a nice round number. What’s that saying about pride coming before the fall?

Race day dawned and Charlie and I headed down to the start, which was its normal frenetic scene, a fact that was actually really refreshing after a year of no racing and the pivots that Unbound had made in the recent past. It was obvious to me that this felt “normal” for a change and people were happy it was exactly that way. At the request of the organizers, we parked ourselves at the start line off to the side, and once the race commenced, we saw every rider pass over the timing mat before we quickly did a lap over the top of it and gave chase.

Now I want to say what happened next was according to plan, but I don’t think it was. I distinctly remember our plan as being “start relatively quickly, so we at least pass a few folks, but then settle into a group that we can use throughout the day to get us to the finish.” That plan went out the door in a heartbeat as Charlie bolted from the start line and we quickly began passing folks (I think in a respectful and safe manner). We would reach a group, make our way through it, and then look at the next group up the road and say: “okay, let’s get to that group and settle in for a minute.” Never happened. Charlie would espy someone he wanted to catch in the next group and he would be gone. So gone that he dropped me well before the first checkpoint in Alma. That might have been his plan, but it wasn’t mine.

Shortly before Alma, I did manage to crawl my way back to him. His navigation wasn’t working (he didn’t get lost, just couldn’t get distance and speed right), and his feet were falling asleep. He also was pretty down about how much the day was “sucking” and my immediate reaction was “welcome to gravel racing, Son.” This was quickly followed by a small amount of fatherly concern, and I coaxed him to the checkpoint where an ice sock, two Red Bulls, and an assortment of other treats buoyed him enough to leave from the checkpoint without me. I gave chase a few minutes later but didn’t see him for quite a while.

Between Alma and the Volland oasis, we took in the roughest parts of the course including Little Egypt Rd. and lots of other minimum maintenance sections. I tried to baby my bike and wheels as best as possible and when I rolled into Volland, there was Charlie, all smiles and drinking a Coke.

“Do you think we’ll beat the sun?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “But if you’re going to, you’d better get going.”

And so he did. He took off and I continued my moseying through the next water oasis at Alta Vista and then eventually on to the last checkpoint in Council Grove. We had ridden this section before in the weeks prior to the event, so it felt better to know what was coming, but I think I forgot a few hills.

When I made it to the checkpoint, there was Charlie. I asked him how he was, and his reply was “Not good. I don’t think I can do this.” This was disheartening, but we chatted for a while and realizing that we were unlikely to beat the sun agreed to roll slowly together towards the finish. That was the plan until Charlie once again spotted a rider he wanted to compete with and was off in a flash. Not sure where he gets that competitive drive, but it served him well in that moment.

I wouldn’t see him again until the finish line. I rode the last 50 miles in the company of my girlfriend until she too got a competitive hair and dropped me like a bad habit with 20 miles to go. It was an inauspicious end to a long day, and as people passed me back all the way to town, my only consolation was the thought of, “Well, at least I’m saving people money. They won’t have to pay for that rider passing me.” I crawled into Emporia, happy to have the day over but worrying that I had only passed like 20 people.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Commercial St. in Emporia, KS, is the best finish line in the world. Coming down through the cones, no matter what time of day, is the best feeling possible. Partly because you know you’re done and you can get off this wretched bike, partly because of the community support, but mostly because it means you’ve tested yourself again, been through the highs and lows, and come out the other side.

Charlie was the first person to greet me at the finish, and my parental pride was swelling at the thought of what this kid, at seventeen, had done. I was on the verge of tears when he opened his mouth:

“710. You got schooled, old man.” -Charlie

Hahaha! Thanks for bringing it down an emotional peg there, Son. I had indeed been schooled, but I think in a good way. I learned that this race is about more than just the riders, and has the ability to impact countless lives outside the racecourse. In the end, Charlie ended up passing 700+ riders and I was somewhere in the mid-to-high 600 range. We raised over $15k for the Outride Foundation due to the generous support of dozens of donors. It’s a powerful thing to line up for yourself, it’s quite another to line up for others. Charlie and I are both really grateful for the opportunity and I know it fueled our effort.

See you next year?