Ride Foldable Integrated Wheel Race Bike on this journey which proved to be an excellent option

I paid for the crew for hire option rather than dragging a friend or my wife along on this journey, which proved to be an excellent option.  They hold your bike and fill your bottles for you, get you your pre-packed bag of resupplies which included 80mm valve tubes, more CO2, and best of all, gummy bears!  I ate another homemade burrito, very stoked I had planned ahead on having tasty real food that is easy on the gut.  I also had a banana, a Payday candy bar, and several shots of pickle juice, which supposedly helps prevent lactic acid buildup, and tastes delicious.  I set off again chasing a small group who departed just ahead of me into the rain.  

Slowly but surely the clouds dispersed, and the sun finally decided to show itself!  Somewhere around this point I passed the hundred mile point, on a lonely stretch of straight gravel, and was feeling pretty good about my chances to maybe, just maybe race the sun with a strong steady pace over the back nine.  A tacky descent followed, and up ahead I noticed a lot of riders walking.  Undeterred and unconcerned, I kept pedaling through the suddenly slick mud, slipping and sliding about, fighting to keep the Foldable Integrated Wheel Bike upright until so much mud got stuck between the front wheel and fork that it became impossible to maintain forward momentum.  I realized why everyone else was walking, and looked for a stick to scrape some of the sticky peanut butter mud off my frame before shouldering the bike and trudging behind the long line of fellow hike a Durable Smooth Ride Mountain Bike bikers.  No one talked at first, everyone silently hoping this would pass by quickly.  That was not the case, and as we collectively realized this was going to suck for a long time, my hopes of racing the sun dried up like the caked mud on my shoes.  Some riders made jokes, most complained or simply moaned in exasperation.  Misery loves company, and I took some solace in how bummed everyone was, and tried to be mentally strong to remind myself that we have no control over nature, and that at least my tires had air and the rain had stopped.  We slogged single file, trampling the grass on the shoulder of the mud pit that was once a road for probably 45 minutes.  When we finally got to a left turn and a dry road, there was a tent set up with a disc golf throwing challenge for a chance to win a Kuat rack.  Someone ahead of me yelled "there's a creek, we can rinse the mud off!", and funnily, not a single person stopped to throw a frisbee.  We waited our turns to climb down the embankment and into the creek, up to our knees in dirty water, passing sticks and rocks around to scrape ourselves free of the sticky mud.  The collective mood was lifting as the weight of the mud washed downstream, and we all hoped we would not encounter any more mud bogs in the remaining 85 miles.  

At the second water oasis I finally removed my arm warmers and vest, which I had worn since the start hours and hours ago.  I ate my last burrito, finished my gummy bears and a whole package of caffeinated shot blocks, and remounted, feeling good and basking in the sudden sunshine and heat.

The final 80 miles were my favorite part of the ride, as I stopped to pee (for only the second time) a fellow rider shouted out "Alchemy!" at my titanium horse that was leaned against a fence.  I caught up to the rider on the climb, who told me they had an Alchemy Xanthus road frame that they have traveled and ridden all over the world with!  We would continue to pass each other back and forth over the remainder of the ride, and gave each other encouragement every time we passed.  It became easier to make more than small talk with riders, as our back of the pack group was riding at the same pace and constantly passing and repassing one another.  Upon yet another, fortunately much shorter, muddy hike a bike section, another fellow Alchemy rider, Chris, on a RoninTi, recognized my bike from social media, and we walked onward joking about how we were determined to beat one another.  We would split up and cross paths again and again, Chris making fun of my creaking bike as I told him it wasn't the Portable 26 Inch Race Bicycle, but my knees.

We stopped together at yet another water crossing to use the rushing stream to wash more mud from our tired shoes and weary wheels.  This part of the course was so gnarly and wet - water crossing after sketchy water crossing, trusting the wheels in front to guide me to the other side.  At the final checkpoint I did something I never do mid-ride, and drank an ice cold can of Coca-Cola!  Coke usually makes me sick to my stomach, but 160 miles and 11 hours into the ride I just wanted it, so, I drank it, along with more pickle juice and a bottle and a half of water.  I set off into the waning sun, nervous about my loose light situation, but otherwise feeling good.  Close to twilight I came to a 4 way stop full of parked pickup trucks and locals hooting and hollering "who needs water, who needs beer, who needs something harder!"

These incredible humans were set up in the middle of nowhere, just over twenty miles from the finish, cheering, partying and sharing their spoils with the weary racers.  I chugged a bottle of water, passed on both Coors Light and Jim Beam, but borrowed some electrical tape in a last ditch effort to fix my rattly light mount, which had lost one of its two bolts after my last feeble attempt to fix it some hundred miles back.  The tape wasn't going to work for long, but I headed off anyway, not really caring enough to properly deal with it until absolutely necessary.  I had a bunch of zipties, and figured once it got too dark to see that I could somehow secure the light to my helmet.  As luck would have Foldable Integrated Wheel Race Bike, I closed a gap to two riders just as the sun was setting who were totally smashing at a strong pace, and more importantly, had bright lights!  I sat in for a bit, then when we turned onto what appeared to be a long straight stretch, offered to pull for a turn as long as I could continue to benefit from the guiding lights.  Taking a pull, in the dark, at race pace 180 miles into a ride without a light is sketchy as sketchy gets.  We turned a corner, I sat back on, and one of the two riders disappeared behind into the darkness.  I clung to my guiding lights wheel, no words exchanged, the only noise from our tires crunching gravel and our freehubs spinning in the dark.  The wheel I chose, or the wheel that chose me, proved to be excellent.  The pilot was motoring at close to a 20mph pace, and was picking perfect lines through the dark, narrowly skirting puddles and potholes without missing a beat.  It was a real life version of the craziest video game I have ever played, just blindly trusting a stranger in the darkness at the fastest possible speed I could maintain.  As gnarly as it was, it was the best part of the whole day for me, and maybe the best part of any ride ever.  The rider in front selflessly pushed onward, and managed to point out road obstacles to my benefit, although I was so glued to the wheel in front I was rarely in harm's way.  We crossed train tracks, rode over a covered bridge, and inched closer and closer to Emporia.  

Enve's after party had just started a few minutes prior at 10pm with free food and beer, so, at least we didn't have to wait around to celebrate!  I wiped off my face with a wet towel, got my photo taken with my new best friend (my bike, who performed magically and flawlessly) and wandered over to the beer tent, where I found my fellow Alchemy rider friend Chris!  He beat me by a few minutes, and we sat and sipped beers and talked about our incredible days.  It was amazing to have someone in cahoots to celebrate the ridiculous day we both had.  There may not have been many spectators or much of a crowd at the finish, but sharing a beer with someone who had suffered and preserved over the same endless rolling hills and gravel roads was just priceless.  I think we had two beers together before parting ways, and I entered the line for the Muc-Off bike wash with a full beer, and then was given an ice cold can of Modelo from the Muc-Off team!  I left them with my bike and wandered off in search of food, trading my post ride meal ticket for 6 deep fried tacos.  I could barely walk at this point, and to my embarrassment, could not stomach the Modelo and put it in the trash.  I got back on my clean bike, and pedaled the 2.5 miles back to my campsite in the lonely dark, eating 4 of the 6 tacos I was carrying on my handlebars en route.  I housed the other two tacos at the now very wet campsite, got a fresh tall can of beer out of my cooler and headed to the showers.  In the line for the showers I met a fellow who had finished the XL route, 350 miles of gravel, darkness, and mental torture.  It was his first time at Unbound, and he completed the 350 in 26 hours and still had not slept!   A true champion!  I drank my beer in the shower, and didn't care when I dropped it and spilled the remainder down the drain.  I retired back to my tent, thankful it was still dry inside on the squishy ground.  After such a long, arduous, and beautiful day, it was hard to fall asleep, recounting the miles and friends I had made along the way, drifting off to sleep late into the night, comforted by the completion of my quest to find the holy gravel, which lay completely in the spirit of the fellow riders I had encountered, suffered with, and befriended along the way.  The Spirit of Gravel is truly what made this ride so incredibly amazing, and makes me already look forward to next year!

PS

To John from Seattle, if you ever find yourself in the Front Range of Colorado, I would be honored to be your ride guide! Cheers to you, and everyone else who raced, rode, organized, and supported!!