Dirty Kanza

I don't know if anything I write can do this one justice. This is just one of those things. Even writing this now I don't know what I can say that could explain how I felt during the ride, and I don't think just laying it out like a normal race can really capture the essence of the race. I guess I am just going to write what I would say to Joel Dyke and Jim Cummins:

Thank you... thank you. Dirty Kanza took me places on my bike that I had never been to, and I am not specifically talking geographically. I felt a new level of pain on the hills and in the heat. This was countered by the peaks of happiness while riding the last stretch home or bombing loose gravel at 30 mph. At times I couldn't decide whether I wanted to laugh or cry. The terrain was beautiful, and the Flint Hills are so aptly named. The heat was killer; at times almost literally. The time you two spend preparing this race (with help from others) is so obvious that it made me want to help tear down...if I could have moved. The camraderie and mutual respect is evident as people who have wrecked themselves for 13+ hours (13 for Cornbread, + for everyone else) stay around and cheer vehemently for people they know and people they have never met. Everyone who has participated in this race knows what it takes to endure until the finish; they know the meaning of "epic". Dirty Kanza got everything I had, and everything I could muster. I felt overwhelmed numerous times in the last 20 miles, once so much I had to get off and walk. None of these times had anything to do with physical fatigue. I battled demons like everyone else, and somehow came out the victor. I said many times that I didn't know if I would do this race again, but as I sit today, and even on the car ride home I caught myself saying, "next year I'll". Keep me on the e-mail list. Thanks to you both for your hard work. I loathe and appreciate it... more of the latter.