Two Weeks Out From Unbound: What to Do, What to Skip, and How to Actually Finish

I sat down with Matti Rowe on Training Babble recently to talk through last-minute prep for Unbound. Matti has attempted the race five times and finished four. Last year he crashed in the first five miles and broke a rib. He's going back. I say all of this not to scare you, but to set the tone for what follows. This is not a race that rewards overconfidence.

Here's what came out of that conversation, plus what we've been telling athletes in the weeks leading up to race day.

This is an adventure race. Act like it.

Gravel has changed dramatically in the last five years. It's faster, more professional, more competitive, and more popular than it's ever been. Unbound is the Super Bowl of the sport and everyone treats it accordingly.

But don't let that fool you into thinking it's predictable. The weather, the course conditions, the creek crossings, the mud sections, all of it can change hour by hour. What was rideable at mile 20 might be a disaster by mile 80 after thousands of riders have come through it. What looked like firm ground in the morning can be six inches of peanut butter by afternoon.

Matti made a point I want to echo here. The athletes who have the worst days are almost always the ones who came in expecting things to go exactly according to plan. The word I try to get athletes to remove from their vocabulary around race day is deserve. You don't deserve a certain experience or a certain result. You've earned your place at the start line. What happens after that involves too many variables outside your control to stake your emotional experience on any particular outcome.

Go in loose. Go in ready for things to go sideways. You'll have a better day.

Ninety percent of the reward has already happened

Matti put this well: you got through the lottery, you stayed healthy enough to train, you had the time and resources to prepare. The process of getting yourself to the start line of a 200-mile race is itself the accomplishment. Race day is the icing.

I tell athletes the same thing all the time: the race is a reward for everything you've done up to this point. Your job on race day is to show up, execute as well as you can, and accept what the day gives you. If everything goes perfectly, great. If it doesn't, that doesn't invalidate everything you built to get there.

Stop making changes

Your lizard brain is going to be very active this week. The expo will be full of tire manufacturers, nutrition companies, and well-meaning strangers telling you that what you've been doing is wrong and what they have is the answer.

Don't listen.

A couple of years ago Matti switched to new tires last minute. He was the first person in the lead group to flat and rode almost 170 miles alone. He'll tell you himself: it was a mistake. The tires you've been training on are the tires you know. The fueling plan you've been practicing is the plan that works for your gut. The position you've been holding for months is the position your body knows.

New tires the night before, a different lube, a slammed stem because you saw a pro doing it, none of that is going to make your day. Any one of those things could break it.

The best tire is the tire that doesn't flat. The most aero position is the one you can hold for 15 hours. The best lube is the one that's still working when you're 150 miles in and hitting water crossings. Optimize for durability and reliability, not the numbers on a spec sheet.

Get your bike dialed now, not the night before

Two weeks out is the right time to get your bike into the shop. New sealant, fresh rubber, new chain, new brake pads, fresh batteries in your shifters and derailleurs, and a full bolt check with a torque wrench. Mechanics are human and can miss things, so do a final pass yourself the day before.

The reason I say two weeks rather than two days is you want to ride on everything before you race on it. A new tire needs to seat properly. New shifting needs to be confirmed under load. You want to know the bike is dialed before you're standing in Emporia.

Carry with you: tire plugs accessible in your front pocket or taped to your frame, a frame pump, a spare derailleur hanger, a spare chain link, a small bottle of wet lube in your pack, and a CR2032 for your shifters. If you have electronic shifting, carry a spare derailleur battery too.

A noisy chain is friction. Friction is watts. If your chain starts screaming at mile 100, that's costing you energy you can't afford to waste.

Mud

There's a good chance there will be mud this year. Here's what I know about Kansas mud after doing this race and coaching athletes through it.

It's not like other mud. It's dense, sticky, and it builds up fast. If it starts packing into your frame, you will not be able to roll your bike. Do not try to push through it. Carry your bike. Get up onto the grass on the side of the road if you can and push from there.

Look ahead. Matti's advice on this is exactly right: if you come up on a section and see a line of people running next to the barbed wire fence, you are not the exception. Slow down, assess, and make a smart decision. The ROI on sending it through a creek crossing at 30 miles an hour when you don't know what's under the water is terrible. Those concrete slabs have six-inch cracks in them. One bad line and your day is over.

Don't be the hero.

Pacing: the whole game

Every incentive in the first 100 miles of Unbound is designed to make you blow up in the second 100.

The start is fast. You're rested, you're excited, and there are thousands of people around you riding at paces that feel sustainable because the adrenaline is masking everything. You will feel better in the first two hours of Unbound than you have felt on a bike in months. That feeling is lying to you.

Ride your pace. If you look down and you're putting out your best 20-minute power of the year, you are not racing smart. The athletes flying past you in the first 50 miles are often the ones standing at an aid station for 20 minutes at mile 80 wondering what happened.

Matti frames the pacing this way: the first 100 miles, you're a cyborg. Eat to plan even when you don't feel like it, ride to your numbers even when the group is tempting, stay sober. The second 100 miles is a vision quest. Everything gets harder and weirder and more primal, and your job is to have enough left to deal with it.

Your group will find you. Ride your pace and over time you'll settle in with people at your level. It takes longer to sort out at Unbound than at most races because of sheer volume, but it happens. Let it happen.

On drafting: Pay attention to where the wind is coming from. In a crosswind, adjust where you shelter accordingly. Killing yourself to stay with a group that's slightly above your level burns matches you need for the back half. The aerodynamic benefit is not worth arriving at mile 150 cooked and alone.

Nutrition: two versions of yourself

The first 100 miles, eat on a schedule. Even when you don't feel like it. Even when your stomach feels settled and you think you don't need it. Bank the calories before the second half demands them.

After 100 miles, the sugar stops working. Your palate does strange things. You'll start craving real food, salty food, whatever your body decides it needs in that moment. Plan for this. Know where the aid stations are and what they carry. If you have crew support, treat it as emergency glass-break resources for the back half.

I once pulled over at a tiny gas station somewhere around mile 130 and sat against the side of the building eating Lay's potato chips and drinking a Coke. It turned my day around. Have no shame about this.

A few specifics: don't drink plain water all day. Make sure you're getting electrolytes throughout, especially if you're a salty sweater. Consider preloading electrolytes at breakfast. Stop most of your drinking about two hours before the start and pee as much as you can before you line up.

On carbohydrates: the 90 grams per hour recommendation is not for you unless you're a professional or you've practiced it with success. Know your actual fueling capacity and don't exceed it chasing a number you heard at the expo.

The dark moments

There will be dark moments. This is non-negotiable. At some point between mile 120 and mile 180, you will be more tired than you have ever been, and the voice in your head will tell you there is no way you can continue.

Before you make any drastic decisions, stop. Pull over. Sit down. Eat something. Drink something. Give it ten minutes. You will be shocked at how quickly things can turn around with a little food and rest. The voice that says you cannot continue is almost never right. It's just tired.

Matti said something about this that stuck with me: you're trying to become unbound from what you think you're capable of. The only way that happens is through the dark stretch. That's not a bug. That's the race. The version of you that comes out the other side of mile 160 and keeps pedaling has a different understanding of what they can do than the version that started in Emporia that morning.

Just keep pedaling. You'll get there.

Heat acclimatization

If you're coming from Colorado or anywhere with a cool spring, spend the next ten days doing intentional heat exposure. Ride in the middle of the day rather than early morning. Spend 20 to 40 minutes in a hot tub, sauna, or hot bath each evening, building the duration gradually. If none of those are available, block the bottom of your bathroom door and run the shower hot. I sat in an Airbnb bathtub in Kansas watching Stranger Things, up to my neck in hot water, sweating profusely. It works.

The heat will still be hard. Heat is always hard. Everyone is suffering equally and your job is to suffer a little more efficiently than the people around you. Adjust your time expectations down. Racing in heat and humidity costs you performance no matter how well you've prepared.

You deserve to be there

The expo will be intimidating. The bikes will be expensive. The people will look fast and confident. Some of them are. Most of them are just athletes like you who signed up for something hard and trained to be ready for it.

Matti closed our conversation with this and I don't want to bury it: you deserve to be there. Not maybe. Not probably. You put in the work, you earned your place, and nobody at the start line has more right to be there than you do.

Don't abandon what you know because someone near you has nicer wheels or a more authoritative opinion about your tires. Trust your training. Ride your race. Keep moving forward.

See you out there.