This race has been on my to-do list for a while now, and this year I was finally able to make it happen. 103ish miles in the rolling farmland just west of the Twin Cities. I haven’t ridden out here much other than a couple of road races way back when I was dumb and did road races.

My friend Tim and I did a bit of recon the week before, checking out the first and last 25 miles of the course. There were a couple of big climbs within the first/last 5 miles, the rest was mostly rollers. Combination of loose gravel/sand, some more packed-in gravel sections, and a few paved connectors. Almost entirely open farmland, so not much around to block the wind or sun. We headed back out race day morning to tackle the whole enchilada.

We rolled out from Carver Lions Park under clear skies and a stiff southerly wind. Tim and I got separated pretty much immediately, and did our own thing the rest of the day. After a long uphill start through a residential neighborhood, we bombed down a narrow bike path and made our way to the race proper. A long paved section gave way to the first gravel and the first big climb of the day. I had taken a gamble and put on a set of Teravail Cannonball 38s the day before. Never a good idea to test something out for the first time on race day, but on this first climb I had great traction and felt pretty stable on the ensuing downhill.

The first 10–15 miles zig-zag south, dumping out onto a long western paved section. The temperature was rising, as was the wind speed. This would be the theme of the day. The crosswind didn’t bother me as much as the narrow shoulder. Thankfully, the traffic was light and considerate for the most part. After about 6 miles of this, it was back onto the gravel, and time for a tailwind boost.

The gravel here was challenging, as it would be for much of the course. Very loose and sandy, making it hard to find a consistent line. I spent a lot of time all the way off the road, riding a narrow strip of dirt between the gravel and the corn. That would work great until the dirt gave way to sand and tried to wrestle your bike to the ground. After a few miles of this, I noticed others also struggling to find the line. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chris Sur riding the left shoulder, and then catching sand and flipping over the bars. Luckily, it was a soft(ish) landing and he was back up and at it quickly.

We rolled past the solar farm on the outskirts of Norwood, and entered the middle part of the course that Tim and I had not ridden the week before. More of the same soft gravel conditions, and alternating tailwind/ crosswind. Finally hit a patch of hardpack gravel, but it didn’t last long. After some navigational confusion, I found my way to the checkpoint at the poetically-named, “County Park Number 3”. I ate a PB sandwich, decided to pass on the well water from the old school hand pump, and headed back out. I followed a couple of riders ahead of me onto some singletrack. After a minute or so of this, I began to wonder if those people ahead of me were in the race and if this was still the race course. The singletrack soon disappeared and was little more than a glorified deer path. After more than a little bit of panic, I found the road and resumed the ride.

I have a bad habit of not drinking water early/often during long rides. 50+ miles in, and I had only gone through a little more than one bottle. Temps were now in the 90’s and I was starting to get that not-so-fresh feeling. Even on the Luce Line section that was in the shade and out of the wind I was really starting to feel heat sick and pukey. I drank the rest of what I had and limped my way through the next 25 miles to Watertown. I caught up to and rode with masters diesel engine John Thompson for a while. He had hammered the first half of the course and was riding on fumes. It was a nice morale boost to have someone to chat with for a while, and I had a bit more energy for the last little push into town.

The Speedway in Watertown was a welcome sight. I grabbed some liquids, ate what was edible of a gas station banana, and sat on the sidewalk for a few minutes in the 6″ or so of shade that was available. We were now in the hottest, windiest part of the day. Most of the last 25 miles would be straight into a steady 25–30mph wind and out in the sun, and I can’t say that I was really looking forward to it.

After riding by myself for a while, a small group of about 8 guys came through and I hung on to the back as long as I could, but pretty soon trying to keep that pace was more of a struggle than it was worth. Ran into Chris Sur again, and at some point we picked up Rob Williams as well. The three of us rode together, and while we weren’t really able to paceline, it was nice for our collective misery to have some company.

The last part of the ride is a bit of a blur, but the three of us kind of yo-yoed, alternating between riding together and separating depending on the terrain. I spent most of my time staring at my front wheel or my gps. At one point when I did look up, I saw a guy on a 4-wheeler driving towards me. He said something about water and then kept going. Up around a small bend in the road was a farmhouse, with a shaded driveway, a hose, and 4-wheeler guy’s wife with a bunch of fruit. The three of us spent some quality time here, and topped off for the last few miles. Apparently the last time the race went through here, it was also super hot, and this couple had found a racer passed out in the ditch near their house. So, this time around, when they heard the race was coming back through they were ready for us. These folks had nothing to do with the race, I don’t think they were cyclists, they were just damn good people taking care of strangers.

I put my head down and rode the remaining few miles, relieved to make it up the golf course and rock quarry climbs without too much trouble. The finishing climb was a bit sadistic, with the last hundred meters or so going straight up the hill to the park. I had just enough time to sit and open a Coke when I got a text from Tim with GPS coordinates, and a follow-up text that the heat had gotten him. I hopped in his truck and found my way to a hilltop between two cornfields. Tim and another rider were there, as was a local guy who had come to check on them. Carver County people are pretty alright. We loaded Tim’s bike on the truck and headed home after a long day, where I proceeded to eat an entire pizza and start thinking about WDB 2020. The end.