WORDS: MILO BAKER // TEAM AFAIC (AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED)

Human bonds are built around the concept of collective devotion. To be devoted to something requires no reasons or payment; the only compensation is the communal satisfaction you reap after. Our bodies and minds thrive off the act of giving, of trusting someone with the energy we exchange. In any scenario, the act of giving involves a sacrifice of energy and a collective devotion towards a shared goal.

With the concept of devotion in mind, it was our eagerness to expand our shared abilities as a team that brought us to the Great Salt Lake. The route is 276 miles long, with 40% consisting of dirt and mixed surfaces, taking you far from any services or water for almost 90 miles. There is no luxurious way to ride around the lake, the FKT (Fastest Known Time) route has only been attempted by a few local riders. It was Team AFAIC's turn to give it a shot.

Touching down in Salt Lake City, Utah, it bemused us to think we were only here for one ride. It's stupid, really. Of all the routes in Utah to transcend our physical and mental limits on, we had chosen to ride bombed-out roads around a fetid lake on our race bikes. All of us brought more energy gels than clothes…

The emotions at the start of the project were guided by scattered thunderstorms that threatened the whole weekend. Everyone in our small crew sat praying to spiritual forces that they’d spare us the added discomfort. It’s easy to get caught up in the numbers, the blah blah of average speed, wind forecasts, and stop time. The only thing we really wanted was to be done before dark.

Corporate neon guided our way out of Salt Lake City. Confined to the dark shoulders of highways our perspective would be fixed on each other’s rear wheel, exchanging pulls into the early morning winds. Purple grasses, dark green chaparral, and salt-bleached soils lined the lake's perimeter.

Asphalt would lend itself for dirt as we entered the western sector of our journey. A well-driven dirt road diminished into a rancher’s path that was lost to the test of time. Washboard, sand pits, and technical rock patches tested the slim rubber under our bikes and accelerated the physical and mental fatigue. Repeated punctures and flat tires plagued cost us valuable time. 

Throughout the disfunction, water weighed on our minds heavy. Our bottles were low, and hydration packs were light. The only option to resupply was at the Golden Spike visitor center mile 184.

The purple hills rolled on next to the intense white salt flats, the sky remained patches of grey, and we started to see the unfamiliar sight of other humans. There was a weird sense of comfort in seeing other people. Though it's unlikely they found comfort in seeing us.  

Droplets of rain fell as we reached Golden Spike. We stuffed ourselves anything that wasn’t energy gel, filled bottles, and stretched our stiff bodies on the visitor’s center carpet, before stepping back out into the sodden landscape.

The final sector of any ride is always the truest test of cohesion. Everyone is hurting, some more, some less. Despite the levels of pain, everyone had to sacrifice their energy for each other. Every minute spent in each other’s draft was cherished and appreciated, for we all knew the cost of each pull taken into the wind. In between sacrificial pulls, one could look briefly take in the dramatic surroundings, before returning to the depths of their mind, trying to dissociate from the pain. 

Salt Lake City loomed as we searched for the end to our journey, with cookie cutter suburbs and the familiar corporate graphics appearing beside us. The final turns on the cue sheet guided us to the end, and our circle was completed. Things felt less stupid as our bodies relaxed, our sacrifices were worth it, our energy had been used accordingly, and our journey was complete.

AFAIC was built atop this feeling, this drive to push one another and achieve our collective goals. Endurance athletics breeds this mindset. We voluntarily choose to push ourselves over several hours, to ravage our bodies and drown in our own inner dialogue, for what exactly?

We do so to unlock abilities our mind tried to limit, to prove to our inner self that next time we can up the score.