Concussed Gravel Beef

Today, 48 hours after Unbound 200, I woke up with an ache in my head that's becoming familiar. I rolled out of bed, using caution to avoid engaging my sore neck muscles, walked into the kitchen and immediately toasted a slice of bread so I could down some ibuprofen. James was also up, and set about making our usual French Press, while I hunkered down before a dimly lit screen ready to share what went down at Unbound 2025.

The new Ventum GS1: lighter, faster, with wider tire clearance. Photo by Marc Arjol Rodriguez

I came into the race with a good mindset. The mental side of racing had been an intense struggle for me lately, and after some sessions with Tracy Carrington of Mind Game Performance, my mind was clear and I was fully committed to riding my own race with the courage and tenacity that is an innate part of who I am as a rider. My new Ventum GS1 was perfectly primed with a 2.1 Vittoria Terreno Dry gravel endurance tire on the front while the same tire in a 47 graced the back. They were set up on Hunt 40 limitless gravel aero wheels with carbon spokes, to date my favorite wheels with a generous internal width of 27 and are a lust worthy combination of lightweight speed and responsiveness. I had my bottles and hydro pack filled with Untapped Grape MapleAid, my Arundel junior tycoon top tube stuffed with a variety of maple gels, and in my sports bra I stowed a small tube of caffeine gum and another filled with Tylenol. With all the boxes ticked, I was ready to use the hours of training and execute in a way I could be proud of.

Kilometer 6.6. I noticed a rider who was riding nervously in front of me and seemed to be trying to come up the side of the group. We were maybe 30 riders back on a flat straight road, miles before there was any challenging terrain. I knew immediately I needed to move away from her, but before I could she moved back into the pack, her tire slipped and she smashed down to the ground in front of me. I had no way to stop and as I went down, my bike landing on top of me, I felt my head forcefully hit the road. As riders picked themselves up and navigated around us, I took a few moments to collect myself, unsure about the state of my head. I stood up, rattled, gathered my scattered gels, and jerked my handlebars back into position. By the time I was back on my bike, 2 minutes had passed, the peloton was completely out of sight, and I debated the wisdom of continuing on. Ultimately I decided to carry on and assess as I chased.

Photo by Marc Arjol Rodriguez

After 24 minutes at 250 NP and 246 average watts, I closed the gap to the pack. Their pace was quite slow which allowed me to get back, a task I thought was fruitless. A little highlight of my chase was the fact I could simultaneously help Jenny, a Newsom Coaching athlete who was caught behind the crash. Once I rejoined, I found my mental clarity was clouded and I struggled with whether to continue. I've had many teammates who have dealt with head injuries, some who were not encouraged to take them seriously, who were even asked to continue to race, and consequently had damage that took years to heal. How hard did I hit my head? Was it bad or just a little knock? Did I feel nauseous because it's a race and I just did a hard effort? Should I continue? Would this affect my legs? The questions were darting around in my mind and I felt greatly conflicted.

Soon there wasn't time to wonder as we hit the first minimum maintenance road. My instincts kicked in and I positioned well into it, sitting second wheel. The road was primarily dry with a few muddy sections at the bottom of rollers and somehow I managed to get a full face of mud at every opportunity. I'm still amazed the other riders kept their sunnies relatively clean. I could not see anything through them and had to take them off. I tried to wash them with my drink, but this resulted in creating a sugary mud coating that was now impossible to get off. I hooked them on my jersey, pulled my helmet lower over my eyes, and resolutely fought on.

Before Eskridge, but after the first mud section. Photo by Marc Arjol Rodriguez

Everyone knew the race would begin in earnest after the town of Eskridge. True to character, Cecily Decker ramped up the pace through the paved streets, pushed the tempo up a short rise that led straight into what would be the most critical point of the race, and the peloton went full blast into Divide Road. With little recon under my belt, I cued off my friend Lauren Stephens and matched her move to the front going into Divide 4th or 5th wheel. The road becomes double track and is marred by chunky unpredictable rocks, undulating terrain, and slippery mud waiting ominously at the base of every descent. The intensity was palpable as riders navigated the tricky terrain and I felt a bit out of body as I watched multiple crashes happen in front of me, and heard the yelling and sounds of bikes colliding with the ground behind me. At one point Rosa Kloser's back wheel bounced up and she rode down a descent on her front wheel only. I held my breath behind her, waiting for the moment, but somehow she managed to control her bike and continued on two wheels. Almost immediately we were waylaid by another crash, with riders off the side in the grass, or laying helpless in the mud, while another rider went by screaming and catapulted straight into some bushes. Here is where the break went containing Lauren Stephens, Cecily and Karolina, the latter two my teammates. A group of ten chased hard and the pace was ferocious for about ten minutes. I dangled a few times off the back of this group and had to use every ounce of willpower to propel myself to the wheel in front of me. I was elated that I had made this selection of riders. The elation would soon change to incredulity.

Once it was clear the three riders were away (they would join and drop an early break of three), the air went completely out of the chase. To this moment I am completely dumbfounded at the tactics (lack of) employed by the group. While it was obvious Morgan and I would not chase because our teammates were up the road, I expected the favorites to band together and attempt to bring the break back. No such thing. Aside from a few occasional spurts up a climb, the riders refused to work together or for each other and we rolled along at an easy pace, the group ballooning to about 30 riders. Perhaps those who were in the Grand Prix elected to bargain on riding safe to ensure they could clinch a high spot in the series standings vs the overall race standings since there were only two riders in the LTGP that were up the road. This would eventually turn to one as Haley Hunter Smith who was part of the fateful early break of three was caught and dropped by this later break of three. But the utter lack of commitment by the Specialized riders who had in the past ridden as a team, the other top LTGP riders, and the many strong individuals who had the capability of forming a robust chase was astounding. Yes the terrain is flat enough that it is more difficult to form a chase, but before the pace eased up, and it was a small select group, the situation was ripe with hope for a solid and potentially successful pursuit.

The chase group containing Hayley Preen, Paige Onweller, Gee Schreurs, Axelle Dubau-Prevot, Melisa Rollins, Morgan Aguirre, Rosa Kloser, Sofia Gomez Villafane, Annika Langvad and myself. Photo by Marc Arjol Rodriguez

We neared the first feed at kilometer 112 and I began preparing to execute a crucial part of the race. The feeds at Unbound can make or break a race and having a well rehearsed plan that you are confident in is non negotiable. Unfortunately, I had somehow forgotten the importance of this feed and did not have a plan that worked well. I ended up struggling with a heavy musette, unable to force the frozen flasks down my jersey, and found myself solidly dropped upon exiting the feed. I was frustrated and confused, totally nonplussed that I had gotten it so wrong. I tossed my musette to the side and hunkered down to chase the group that I could see maybe 30 seconds up the road. As I continued to ride, I realized that I had forgotten all of my gels in the musette along with a computer that I needed to swap to. I stopped and wearily looked back, the impact of the effort and the crash hitting me with full force. There didn't seem to be any solution other than to ride back and as I did, I made the decision to pull out. I had been fighting nausea for four hours, my head hurt, and the fear of doing more damage to my brain was pressing on me. Perhaps God orchestrated that silly mistake of forgetting all my nutrition to get me to pull the brakes knowing that until I was forced to stop, I wouldn't. I sadly rolled back to the aid and was met by Simen with Pas Racing who cared for me and made sure I had a safe ride back with the wonderful Aliza of UnTapped.

Then the emotions hit. The sadness, the questions, the wondering, the WHY...combine this with the joy of seeing my teammates come one and two in the biggest gravel race in the world, watching the others fight to the very last pedal stroke, 200 miles etched into every line of their face and mud splatter on their body, and I felt torn to pieces with guilt and shame all the while trying to blanket myself with self understanding and compassion. It helped to discover my helmet was cracked (many thanks to Sweet Protection for creating a helmet that did its job) and while I didn't enjoy the splitting headache and nausea I felt and am still feeling, it was obvious I made the right choice. After watching the finish, we all made our way back to the Pas Racing house, and celebrated with a meal of burgers made by the indefatigable Matt Wiebe. We were a beautiful conglomeration of riders, staff and friends from the bright and joyful Pas Devo team, to the Danish contingent of humorous, hard working individuals, to the quietly determined Anna. I felt all the good parts of humanity were present and was so thankful to be a part of it.

photo credit Dan Hughes

BUT. The title says "Gravel Beef". What even is that. Well, I'm not one to try and define gravel or the growing pains that come with a young and booming sport, however, I will state what I saw and have seen in the past in the hope it will in some way big or small spur intentional growth by those who need it. Road cycling has tiers that a rider has to work up through to eventually reach either a Cat 1, or one committed step further, a Pro. I am not as familiar with the mountain bike racing scene, but a similar structure is in place. These structures are to ensure that new riders learn the skills needed to safely race, not only for their sake, but for the sake of those around them. Cycling is a dangerous sport in and of itself, every one of us has the responsibility to do the work needed to be a safe rider. It's an ongoing task and while it doesn't mean we won't have weaknesses (hello Emily descending long technical roads), it's our responsibility to make sure these weaknesses won't put others in danger. What I saw on Saturday and have seen in other races, is a lack of bunch skills as well as a willingness to take risks that endanger other riders. Specifically I saw abrupt lateral movements with no consideration for who might be on their wheel or who may be coming up the side, and overlapped wheels without taking that responsibility seriously (I overlap wheels at times too, but as I do so, I'm very aware of who's wheel I am on and what that rider is doing). These movements resulted in my crash and in a later crash that caused someone to go to the hospital; completely needless, senseless, totally unnecessary situations that put to nought months of preparation. Along with the lack of skill, there were riders willing to put others at risk by their desire to get ahead. For example, Hannah Shell was taken out by a rider who chose to take a dangerous line off the double track, shoot around her, dart in front of her, to promptly pull the brakes before hitting some mud. This consequently caused her to crash as she tried to avoid running into the back of the rider, ultimately ending her race and well founded hope for a wild card position into the LTGP. It seems like common sense to say this, but if you did not enter a section in the position you wanted to, that is your burden to bear in a way that does not endanger other riders who positioned better than you did.

Ultimately, I love to see the sport growing, the fields getting bigger, and more and more women embracing this sport. I don't know what the answer is to ensuring we have a safe peloton. I don't want to see gravel overrun with rules and regulations, but at the same time, watching riders races and potentially their seasons end over avoidable circumstances is enough to know action needs to be taken. What and how I don't know. I do know every movement starts with a thought which leads to an action, so take the action needed to become a more skilled rider. It will only serve you, build confidence and bring greater enjoyment to your time on two wheels.

Special thanks to Benny Vaughn for his advice post crash and his care for me pre race. I am so grateful to have such world class expertise and wisdom.

Photo by Marc Arjol Rodgriguez