The Day Across Minnesota is a 240 mile gravel road bike race from Gary, S.D. to Hager, WI. It starts midnight Friday and ends midnight Saturday, just 24 hours later. It’s a nonstop endurance ride that challenges riders with darkness, lack of sleep, sparse supply stops (only three supported stops allowed) and endless variety of road surfaces and conditions. Riders who complete the 240 miles in less than 24 hrs. become DAMn Champions.
9:00 PM Saturday…
After 21 hrs. of racing I had just turned onto a minimum maintenance road only seven miles from the finish line. I knew this road from having ridden it during a training ride earlier in the season. I felt confident I would get to the finish line well before midnight.
Then near disaster struck. I was riding with two other riders as we passed a road sign with a symbol of a truck and a steep downhill. I remembered this steep hill, almost two miles long, but I didn’t remember the severe washboard ridges on the side of the road. While the other two riders took the center line, I took the left side of the road, which up to this point had been the best part of the road. At over 20 mph my bike was hitting washboard ridges and bouncing nearly uncontrollably into the air, then pounding down to the next bump. Because the wheels were in the air as much as on the road, my brakes were less than effective and I flew down the road much faster than I knew was safe. My hands and butt were taking terrible punishment. I held on for dear life and prayed my bike didn’t fall out from under me.
The pounding continued for what seemed like forever before I could get enough control of my bike to slow and move to the center part of the road. My nerves were frayed, my body sore, my confidence shot. Would I finish or would I quit?
Friday, the day before the ride…
Four of us were riding in Galen’s car up to Gary, S.D. to the start of the race. Dave had agreed to drive Galen’s car to the finish line for him. Bruce, Galen and I were to ride the race. Along the way to Gary we talked about what to expect and I asked questions about the check-in process and logistics. I was nervous as this was my first time riding not only the Day Across Minnesota but any bike race.
Fortunately the check-in process was the same as for any of the other organized rides I had done – quick and easy. I had my race number (277) and was set to go. We ate some dinner, prepped our bikes then tried our best to rest until midnight.
Myrna, Rose and Ryan had graciously offered to support me for the race. They arrived about 11:30 p.m. to see the start of the race. I would not see them again until the next morning at mile 120, halfway through the race.
I had heard stories about the start of the DAMn ride and knew roughly what to expect. There were hundreds of riders bunched up in the road in front of the fire station (over 400 riders). Then at midnight they shot off fireworks to mark the start of the race. A cheer rose from the crowd and we were off!
It was crazy with all those bikers jockeying for position and generating so much gravel dust – I’m sure my lungs are still coated with it. The first hour or so was a blur. I was riding at 16-20 mph, adrenaline was flowing and I was caught up in the excitement. It was fun while it lasted, but I knew I couldn’t keep this up and purposely slowed my pace to a more manageable 14 mph, my plan speed.
After the first ten miles or so, the roads turned to dust, literally. Imagine a hundred bikes churning the packed dirt into a fine sand and you will have a good idea of what we were riding on. I rode on the edges of the gravel as much as I could, sometimes in the grass to avoid the really soft stuff.
The air was thick with gravel dust. I was breathing a lot of it, my clothes, bike and gear was getting covered with it and the headlights of the bikes behind me would cast my shadow into the cloud of dust in front of me. It was like riding in a light tunnel in the middle of the night.
I was wearing my normal cycling clothes plus a jacket for warmth. It was forecast to drop to the mid-50s during the night but as I cycled on through the dark it felt colder and colder. What was going on? Later I would see on my Garmin GPS that the temperature dropped to 44.6F! By morning I was so chilled I had to nurse a large cup of coffee just to warm up.
People before the race had talked a lot about the Perseid meteor shower in the middle of the night. I saw none of this; I couldn’t take my eyes off the road and riders around me long enough to look up. Bummer. But my priority was riding not sightseeing.
After the initial bunching from the starting line, the bikers spaced out a bit as we rode into the early hours of the morning. I had started roughly a third of the way back from the front. As the night wore on I was passed by groups of riders who were pace-lining, following each other closely to take advantage of drafting. My plan was to ride alone so I had put aerobars on my bike. This worked well, but I couldn’t use them when riding on soft, loose surfaces or with bunched riders. My hands would not be close enough to the brakes or shifters to be safe. I briefly rode behind some individual riders throughout the ride, but mostly on my own. This meant a slower speed (1-2 mph less) than the others around me. But I was okay with that; I knew I wouldn’t be first, I just wanted to finish.
About 40 miles into the ride we hit a really loose, sandy section of the road. It was a real struggle to get through. After nearly falling over several times as my tires tried to slip out from under me, I ended up riding on the far left side of the road, sometimes in the grass to navigate this section. In general, the roads out west were far looser and sandier than what we have around the Northfield area. Not fun to ride and certainly slower.
My first stop with water and food was at mile 85, roughly six hours into the ride, nothing until then. I had four water bottles with me, snacks and several burritos for breakfast. I knew from training rides I would need to eat every 2-3 hours.
So I took out a Larabar and opened the wrapper. Somehow I hit a bump in the road and the bar vanished into the dark! I wasn’t about to turn back to find it. Not only would I lose valuable time, but there were a hundred bikers behind me and they weren’t about to slow down. I was glum as I was down to only two bars. Not good and no way to get any more until morning.
Not wanting to risk losing any more food, I made a couple brief stops at crossroads to get food from my bag and securely into my hand, then continued riding while I was eating. I hadn’t planned on stopping, even briefly, but I had no choice on this long ride segment with no other supply options.
For perspective, the landscape in western Minnesota is best described as continuous corn and bean fields. For the first 85 miles until dawn we did not pass through any towns and I saw few farm houses along the way. Parked along the road at intersections were support vehicles for the other riders, some brightly lit and decorated.
After a while I noticed the people passing me were looking familiar. Over the course of the next few hours I would see the same groups of riders pass me. In their pacelines they were going several mph faster than I was, but were stopping along the way for mechanicals, bio-breaks or supply stops. I felt good with my plan to just ride continuously through to the first stop in Morton. Every stop, even a short five minute stop, added up to hours in the end.
Being as chilled as I was, I anxiously looked for the dawn. It came just before I arrived in Morton. The sky was lightening and I no longer needed my headlight. However, I wouldn’t see the sun for another hour as Morton is situated in a river valley.
The only thing in Morton was a BP station convenience store where I bought a breakfast sandwich, large coffee and refilled my water bottles. I cradled my coffee in my hands; it felt so good to be warm. At the time I didn’t know just how cold it had gotten, I just knew I was chilled through and through. My stop took longer than I wanted but I really needed a rest after the first 85 miles.
Owen's Epic Rides 