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Traditionally, on the Saturday prior to the monument, cobbled road race, Paris-Roubaix, Barry-Roubaix is held. Meaning, this is a race in April and typically I haven't even started riding yet but due to a change in the professional calendar in 2021, this years edition of both races would fall on the first weekend of October instead. Cyclingnews.com wrote “with 3,800 riders, $34,000 in prize money, four varied courses and 80 per cent of off-road riding, Barry-Roubaix, held in south-central Michigan apparently lays claim to its title as the biggest gravel race on the calendar.” For me, one hundred and five miles of gravel goodness and close to 8,000 feet of climbing awaits.

As a line item on my bucket list, I was excited to add this event on my calendar and would be my last high mileage excursion for the year. An early morning start meant a full light set-up for the day and unlike previous races this year, I planned on no stops meaning I was carrying all my supplies. I had pre-rode some of the course during an evening earlier in the week and knew that a continually rolling course was in the cards. I also knew that some of the seasonal Jeep trails were very sandy, washed out, rocky, hilly and wet. Today would be an adventure.

I'd committed to getting into the coral early to start at the front of the race. I wanted to test myself and be in the front group. I had no idea of what to expect but knew it would be something new. I got into town super early, got a primo parking spot for Mrs. Green to grab a nap while I was suffering, and awaited the start. With a whistle, a mass of white and red lights shone across town and soon into the pitch black gravel roads.

I sat in the pack, truly not knowing how things would shake out or when separations would be made. As mentioned, I'd pre-rode some of the course, especially the beginning and end as learned is necessary at Gravel Worlds. There was a long, double stepped hill that I thought may be a decisive point early in the race but it passed with no excitement. Most longer gravel events are a race of attrition, and on cue the pack thinned as we rode along and by 35 miles the group was down to maybe forty in total. I hadn't been able to pre-ride a lot of the route, and in hindsight I wish I had. A key portion that I hadn't pre-ridden and I was poorly positioned for, was the first seasonal road and of course this is where the race exploded!

South Bassett Lake road was a washed out incredibly sandy jeep road. I was too far back and missed some of the action at the front and got caught up behind others. I'm not saying I'd have maintained the pace of those at the pointy end but more that I was able to ride the washed out road while others were being beaten by the terrain. I crawled past others, shouted for space as a fought the deep sand and eventually myself and two others separated ourselves from those behind.

Riding the hills and the sand was an absolute power suck. As we completed this section, Deep Lake Road was next. I'd pre-ridden this part and knew the line was far left, almost riding in the undergrowth. Again it was a steep uphill, sandy slog, others starting to walk from the front group and all with our hearts beating out of our chests. Eventually this lead to fast, rutted down hills and into more washed out sand pits - there were definitely elements of fun halted quickly by those “oh crap” out of control moments. Just as it's name suggested Deep Lake Road also contained a surprise: water. With the recent high rainfall the lake had broke it's bank and covered the road. On my pre-ride I'd determined it to be well over a foot and above the axles of my wheels and that I'd be better off wading. A cyclocross dismount and bike carry followed along with wet feet, one of my two most disliked aspects of riding, the other is a wet butt.

By now, the three of us could see no one behind and had the most feared section still to come- Sagar Road. Every social media post and discussion thread talks about Sagar Road but frankly, with wet feet and what we had already ridden, Sagar was fine. Yes, it was rocky, it was sandy and yes it sucked the power from your legs but no worse that the other sections. When we exited this final jeep trail I was on my own, my two partners had fallen back and I had 35 miles to go.

This is where things got hard, both mentally and physically. This was the hilly part of the course and with tired legs, it was tough, especially on my own. I passed a couple of guys along the way from the front group who'd bitten off more than they could chew. The longest climb was appropriately named “The Wall” which on the day was climbed by Pete Stetina a full minute faster than I, and it wasn't that long, just steep. The day got very hard, cramps, running out of food and drink and the ever slowing of the passing miles just played mind games.

Eventually, the long course merged with those completing the 18 and 36 mile options and became a huge mental boost. I was flying through the gravel at a much faster pace and the old “ego” took a much needed elevation. With ten miles to go I was feeling motivated and the miles seemed to pass by so much faster. I'd been all alone for a while prior so seeing other pained faces along the way was awesome. We rode into town, weaved through closed roads and finished my 105 miles in 25th position. I was happy to be done.

Of all my long events this year, I felt this was the hardest. Definitely the course was the hardest and was named “Psycho Killer” for a reason. For those who ride with a Stages power meter like I, these one day events carry as much TSS as a normal training week and thereby take a lot to recover from. My Kona Major Jake was flawless again and truly allowed me to nail the corners and clear the technical terrain. And now, a couple of days off the bike, a few spins and I'll be back for my next adventure.