Is it Nature or Nuture?
Perhaps you aren’t as addicted as you could be and haven’t heard the reports about Unbound from last weekend. Suffice to say that is was memorable and just might single handedly keep the bike part business going for another year because of the carnage from the mud and rain. I think the stat that stands out most for me from the race is out of the 4,642 people who started the various options, 3,951 persevered through the 4” of rain, mud and wind to finish. Determination is a must to line up in the first place, but most useful when it gets tested, laughed at, and pumped up to its waterproof fullest.
But that isn’t what we are here to share and revel in. Doing Unbound is not like anything else out there, partially because of where it is, who lives there, and what it means to everyone involved.
There are not 500 hotel beds in Emporia, Kansas so racers have an extraordinarily difficult time finding accommodation. You bring your accommodation with you if you are able, grab a dorm bed in the local college, camp at the fairgrounds, or rely on the hospitality of the locals who either offer their homes up to the racers or host them in spare bedrooms for money or for free. Social media pages abound with racers and hosts trying to link up and it’s tricky to make a connection.
We had a small piece of inspiration and put an ad out on one of the Facebook pages offering to trade housing- if you put us up, we would be happy to return the favor some time in the next year. It worked and we had about 25 potential takers almost immediately.
With such abundance, we were fortunate to be able to choose the best option and it was on the Johnson farm, 9 miles north of town. Marcia grew up on a farm in Neosho Rapids, about 12 miles southeast of where she currently lives. Ron was born just south of Americus, about 10 miles west of where he lives now. On the two mile stretch of road their house is on, they have relatives in about 10 of the 14 farms. Neither Ron nor Marcia has lived anywhere but Lyon County Kansas in their 60+ years.
They built a new barn/garage with an apartment in it for family that doesn’t live nearby, and anyone who might need a place to stay, for whatever reason. The Johnson’s closest contact to the race was a friend of their son’s who had done the 50 mile version a few years back and they went to cheer him on. So they took a chance, messaged us back and we truly feel like we won the lottery.
We arrived Monday evening. The next morning we met the grand daughters and son in law when he dropped them off to spend the day at Memu’s. Louis met the barn cats and the kittens they had a couple of months ago. Misti went with Marcia to buy $2 eggs from the neighbor, see the “neighborhood” in the Ranger, check if the stream was still flooded, and pick spinach and green onions from the garden. I went exploring on my bike and brought back reports of weirdos in spandex wandering around, friendly farmers in extra large vehicles, endless roads that were (maybe) to be ridden in the condition currently found, but probably in a slightly increased state of disarray.
As the days went by, the barriers continued to break down even further. The sons and daughters started sticking around longer, and the grandkids didn’t want to go back to their house right away (even on Kansas farms 2 year olds get super grouchy when they miss their nap). Mike, the Johnson’s son in law, is a member of a long time local farming family; Ron and Marcia had roles other than land related in the community. Ron worked on the Turnpike for 30 years, Marcia drove the school bus and also worked in the Americus Town Office. Mike and Ashley pay her parents for babysitting with a cow (well, the beef cuts from the cow). Mike’s farm is responsible for feeding four families so he is always working on something. He has to grow the feed, store the feed, mix and grind the feed for the cattle he raises, and when asked, he refers to himself as a “farming rancher” (or as a “rancher farmer” depending on the day). Ashley is the bookkeeper at the dentist’s office, and knows everyone in town, to earn money and get insurance for her family (Mike and the girls). The whole family goes to chiropractors, either in Emporia or in Topeka. Tyson, the youngest son, specializes in construction: he built their barn/garage where we stayed, but also decks (building and designing them), along with outdoor kitchens; he has been hired to essentially build a town for a wealthy immigrant and his people.
We made pizzas in the outdoor oven, roasted marshmallows on the fire, chased fireflies with the girls, found cocoons in the trees where the cats were hiding. Two families came together, mesmerized by the differences and similarities. The lightning flashed almost every night and Louis lay on the porch watching to make sure the kittens didn’t try to escape.
Then we had to do the race. This is the second Unbound for us and what I noticed the first time, is how the locals come out to be a part of the circus that has come to town. They ask questions of exhausted riders (Misti overheard an exchange between a local and a racer that went “so, where are you from?” “Paraguay.” “Where?” “Paraguay.” “Where?” “Pa-ra-guay.” “Where in the world is that? I don’t know where that is.” — they may actually still be trying figure it out), marvel that anyone would be crazy enough to try it, let alone finish it; they are genuinely curious and appreciative.
The chance of precipitation when we started was reported to be 10%. It started raining 45 minutes in and brought a lightning show with it. Ron drove the truck because he knew all the back roads, Marcia made sure that Ron knew what he was talking about, Misti and Louis rode in the back seat. They cheered us on after the first storm passed as we winged it down a hill. Ashley and the girls were there with the four of them at the neutral aid station, along with a cousin in law and her daughter. It was raining so hard that racers were sitting in the streams running down the roads trying to wash the mud and muck out of various orifices. A big muddy smooch for the 2 year old (don’t forget to smooch your wife when she’s standing in the rain doing heroic work for your dumb ass, which I did… she agreed to a one time exemption since there was so much going on) and off we went for the second half of the adventure — less lightning, but considerably more wind. Everyone, but Mike and 2 year old Violet, was waiting to cheer us at the finish line.
The most treasured part of the week, though, was the four hours sitting around the barn on Sunday, having Clara draw chalk outlines of me lying on the cement, talking with everyone who stopped by, sharing the space and moments with a family rooted to the land upon which they live, brave enough to open their doors to strangers, secure in who they are and why they do.
The Johnsons will be in Basalt, at our place, next week. They arrive on Saturday, June 13 and stay for the week. All seven of them are coming so there isn’t room for us to stay too. Would you all please do us a favor— come by and say “hi”? When you are riding by, stop in and knock on the door (upstairs), spend a few moments sharing your world with these fine people. I will tell them to look out for you, encourage them to open the door to our version of life, let them see that we are just as curious and welcoming as down home farm folk in this Valley.
Cheers
