Ten years ago, I made my first trip to Emporia, Kansas, for gravel’s biggest weekend—when Unbound Gravel was still named Dirty Kanza. It had already established itself as the premier event for what has exploded into the sport’s hottest discipline. I was pretty fit that year. I had a nice modern gravel bike. And I came with many years of racing, which included plenty of experience battling others across all roads of the dirt variety. I figured I was good to go for a decent day. I had no goal of winning the damn thing, but I really felt confident I could finish strong in my age group.
Kansas is flat, so the extra 60 miles beyond what I had ever ridden wouldn’t be a big deal, right? My goodness, did I grossly underestimate what this bike race was all about. “Death by a thousand papercuts” is how I describe it. Every little hill, every little rock, the hours of headwind, the 200-mile distance…it all slowly adds up and wears you down. And no, I very quickly realized, one does not “sit in” and ride it like a road race. It took me 17 hours to finish. By mile 120, I had bonked worse than I ever had before—and I’ve blown myself up a lot. It was an absolute beatdown that I’ll never forget.
Why do I bring this up? Well, fast-forward to 2026 and I’m back in Emporia for my second trip to Unbound, where I again find myself in a situation that I was not prepared for. However, I’m not back for redemption on the bike; this time, I’m on the sidelines hustling up content for my day job as a photojournalist.
Our driver was a super-sweet young lady in her early 20s with a big country heart, a great attitude and very limited experience actually driving her rig off road. We were in for a wild ride.
This event, and gravel in general, has grown immensely since my last Unbound experience. Seemingly, every publication and brand descended upon the middle of Kansas to cram their Instagram feeds with as much content as possible.
It’s pretty fascinating to see what this event has become. It’s also entertaining telling outside friends and family where I was heading for the weekend. “Kansas, huh? For a bike race?” they’d ask. I would then explain that, yes, I was going to a small-ass town in the middle of Kansas for the world’s biggest gravel race. It’s basically our Super Bowl.
This year, though, seemed even more absurd. You’ve probably seen the photos and videos. Maybe even caught the livestream. The weather was cataclysmic. The racing was furious. And the flurry of bike and product launches that coincided was overwhelming. Aerodynamics, team tactics and the question of the weekend—“tire choice”—were all hot topics. The hot-take headlines also filled our feeds: “Is Unbound harder than Paris–Roubaix?” Well, if Mathieu van der Poel was on the start line maybe it would be. But in the end, two of gravel’s most badass grinders claimed victory in the elite 200 races: Argentine mountain biker Sofía Gómez Villafane and former Danish road race champ Mads Würtz Schmidt, both age 32.
GET ALL THE GLORY IN PRINT
