I drove down to Wichita the day before the 2020 Texas Chainring Massacre – the best name I’ve heard so far for a bike race, by the way. So i spent 12 hours in the car, alone. But I really wasn’t alone – I made a bunch of calls that day. That helped pass time. And it was great to catch up.
I almost slid out on the freeway, passing a Sheriff’s car. That was fun. There was ice and freezing rain from Illinois to Kansas, and for about four hours I had both hands glued to the steering wheel. Tense, focused, all I could think was, Don’t crash.
I made it to Wichita without incident, my team manager’s house filled with 11 month-old puppies. I rode the trainer the next day, after a long day of work and writing things not too dissimilar from this. While I had brought my laptop into the basement, I found I only needed headphones during the ride. The music just, hit different, that day, and for those 90 minutes I needed not much more than the beats of Brook and The Bluff and The Cure in my ears.
Four of us and a puppy piled into a fully packed car the next morning, destination: Aubrey, Texas. A few hours later, we were there, building up bikes and standing outside without shivering. I met all my new teammates, and it went great. I used to not be able to talk to people – meet new people, socially interact, have a conversation without sweating, mind racing, and being as horribly awkward as possible. But things have gotten better, I think. You tell me.
Around 4PM, we headed out for a short spin in the evening light which provided a nice backdrop for a team photo. We rolled along the tarmac on 35 psi, and I felt weird since this was my first time riding outside in a few weeks. I nearly fell over on the first hill, but I quickly got the hang of it. It’s just like learning how to ride a bike… Oh wait
After 48 minutes of fun, we showered and changed before heading off to dinner. We chose an Italian restaurant for our pre-race dinner, and ordered one of everything…Ok, so maybe not one of everything, but it was a lot. I had some sort of cheesy manicotti, and it was delicious. John got harassed by the restaurant’s owner, but he seemed to like it. We all loved the food, and were fully fueled up for the next day’s race.
7AM – Race Day
I hadn’t done a bike race in a long while. What do I wear? Shoe covers or no shoe covers? Base layer, vest? Should I warm-up? What tire pressure do I run? How much food do I bring?
Instead of analyzing to the point of paralysis, I relied on muscle memory and just did what I thought was right: base layer, no shoe covers, 5 pieces of food. All good.
I didn’t ask anyone else what they were wearing, eating, or drinking. That’s the key.
We lined up casually, as I imagined my first gravel race would be. Rolled out of town with a few hundred riders. Positioning was easier than I thought. The last real race I did was the Intelligentsia Cup – so yes, positioning was a lot easier than a pro-level crit.
We stayed “neutral” for many miles, although I didn’t know it at the time. I stayed near the front and tried covering moves. I took the corners slowly, but I got better throughout the race. Pretty sure my teammates noticed, my poor cornering skills. But hey, when you guys weren’t there – because you were up the road winning – when I was behind you in the chase group towards the end of the race, my cornering skills were on point. I swear.
When we hit the first gravel sector, my legs almost exploded. On a short, uphill drag of about a half a mile, it was a contest to see who could do 500 Watts the longest. I stayed about 20th, and by the time we crested the hill, I could see the field had exploded behind me. A big group stayed together as we turned into the headwind, but I was recovering well and staying near the front.
I trusted my equipment and my gravel-riding skills, so I followed some attacks as the front group continued to shrink. Eventually, we had just ~20 riders left. I was going hard, but not that hard, as I would soon find out. My teammates attacked some more, and were soon off the front in a group of five. Dillon, the strongest rider in the chase group, attacked just before a steep hill, and I followed. The next 30 seconds were the deepest I’ve gone in a long, long time. I tried to fake it, look strong, and fool my competitors, but this attack saw me chewing my stem, manhandling my bike, and pedaling squares as I did everything I could to close the gap. I didn’t get dropped though, and I was pretty proud of that. Tis only January.
A few miles later, we had a group of ~10 at the front of the race. I was feeling ok, just trying to recover and eat some food, when an attack went off the front. I went to cover it, and then found myself leading the bunch. I heard someone tell a joke behind me (I like gravel racing), I chuckled out of kindness (I didn’t really hear what they said), and then I realized I missed a turn. My teammates had turned right while I had gone straight, and suddenly I had gone from lead group to chase group. While we clawed our way back, I kept having mechanical issues. My own fault, I hadn’t properly adjusted my rear derailleur, and the chain kept bouncing around,and eventually falling off. So for the next 20 miles, I would start closing the gap to the front group, be forced to stop to remount my chain, chase again, and repeat. By the time I fully made it back, my legs were destroyed, and so I “let” my teammates go when they attacked.
I was pretty blown at this point, so I did what I could in the chase group that was racing for 5th. I actually thought about going for the sprint – because why not – but with a few hundred meters to go, my chain fell off again. Damn.
My teammates had killed it though, finishing 1st, 2nd, and 4th. I finished 7th – not bad for my first big gravel race. But more importantly, I learned a lot – everything from positioning to cornering, pacing and nutrition. My teammates are the best in the business, with more years of experience racing gravel than I’ve been riding a bike. I still have a lot to learn, and my experience at the Texas Chainring Massacre was just the start.
Next: The Mid-South