I showed up to Unbound 200 thinking I was ready. The plan was solid. I’d broken the course into three manageable sections. I knew when I’d fuel, when I’d hydrate, and how I’d approach each pit stop like a rehearsed pit crew. Everything was mapped out in advance. On paper, it looked like a textbook execution.
Miles 0-50: the easy part
The race started exactly how I hoped. The groups formed early, I found fast wheels to sit on, and my effort felt controlled — hovering around 0.85 IF, which was right where I wanted to be. Every 20-30 minutes I fueled, staying ahead of the hunger. Hydration was locked in. Electrolytes were on point. If anything, I remember thinking, this is going even better than I expected.
The terrain was fast and friendly. By the time I reached Pit 1, I was actually ahead of schedule. Confidence was high. Everything was going according to plan.
But looking back, the first cracks were already forming — invisible at the time. Each small surge to cover a move, every pull to keep pace, they were all tiny withdrawals I didn’t feel yet. But I was burning matches I wouldn’t get back.
Miles 50-80: the quiet unraveling
As the miles ticked by, the temperature kept climbing. It wasn’t oppressive yet, but I could feel the heat start to build. My fueling stayed consistent. Hydration was getting harder, but I kept forcing it. My legs still felt good, but tightness was creeping in. Nothing major, just subtle signs that the effort and the conditions were starting to stack up.
Miles 80-148: Kansas stopped cooperating
This was the turn. The temperature broke into the 90s. The pacelines that had made life easier earlier in the day started to break apart. The headwinds picked up — not enough to destroy you, but enough to make every pedal stroke feel heavier than it should.
That’s when my gut started to fight back. What had worked perfectly on my long training rides now felt wrong. The carbs I’d tested started to sit heavy. Nausea crept in. Bloating followed. Suddenly, taking in calories wasn’t as simple as it had been. Hydration slipped behind as well. The salt that was enough earlier wasn’t cutting it anymore. The heat was winning.
This was the first real decision point — when you realize that sticking to the original plan is no longer an option, and the race becomes about adapting to the situation in front of you.
Pit 2 at mile 148: damage control
By the time I rolled into Pit 2, I knew I was in trouble. The cramps were threatening. My gut was unstable. My watts were dropping. I was lightheaded, hot, and under-fueled.
But this is where preparation mattered. My crew was ready. We’d rehearsed this stop multiple times. They moved fast — ice down the jersey, bottles swapped, fuel reloaded. I was back on the course in just a few minutes.
The pit stop didn’t reverse the damage, but it bought me enough time to stay alive in the race.
Miles 148-200: survival mode
This is the part nobody posts about on Instagram.
Full body cramps — abs, back, hamstrings — forced me off the bike at times. My legs locked up on climbs. The final miles dragged endlessly. My power dropped from 0.85 IF at the start to 0.61 IF by the end. At that point, fueling wasn’t about optimization anymore. It was about survival. Coke. Ice. Water. Whatever my gut could handle.
There was a moment where I genuinely questioned if I would make it to the finish. But that’s endurance racing. Sometimes it’s not about speed. It’s about stubbornness.
The finish: 11 hours, 46 minutes
I crossed the line completely wrecked. 10th in my age group. Top 100 overall. And almost instantly, I was already thinking about what I’d change for next time.
What I’ll fix before I come back
- Fueling needs to be flexible. What works in 65 degrees might fail at 95. I need multiple fueling options tested under heat and stress.
- Build decision trees in advance. If my gut shuts down, I know exactly how to adjust. If I’m overheating, I have cooling protocols. If cramps start, I have specific interventions.
- Crew rehearsals stay critical. Every second saved in the pits preserves energy I’ll need later.
- Early pacing is non-negotiable. If I burn too many matches early sitting in groups I don’t belong in, I’ll pay for it later.
- Cramps aren’t random. They’re the result of heat, hydration gaps, sodium losses, and accumulated fatigue.
- Adaptation beats perfection. The race will break the plan. My job is to adjust better and faster than the people around me.
The bottom line
Endurance racing doesn’t reward perfect plans. It rewards the ability to stay calm under pressure, manage failure, and keep moving forward when everything starts to go sideways.
If you’re training for your own big race, I hope a few of these lessons save you from learning them the hard way.
