I've been at this whole 'Pro Gravel Racing' thing for a while now. I've been to the biggest races, ridden in many of the top gravel riding destinations around the world, and met some fascinating characters along the way. The trips always provide a new experience, friendship, memory, or takeaway. I try to always be open to the experience these gravel race trips offer, as the real gems and truly memorable moments of these trips often come when you least expect it.
I sometimes travel solo, but more often than not, I have a small team with me. We are not the well-oiled machine you might think of when you hear the word 'team' in a cycling context. There are no big team buses, wiley old Belgian mechanics smoking cigarettes and glueing tubulars, massages, team directors, or pre-race tactics meetings. You get the idea.
But one constant at many of the races this year has been my good friend and AC marketing team member, illustrious photographer and guitar slinger, Jim Merithew. Jim and I first met back at the start of 2022. I was riding down the California Coast with a group of friends. I was very much the newcomer, honored to be invited to join this group of 'hitters' as they made their way down the coast on their annual Coast Ride for the nth time. I was excited. It felt as if I had been invited to sit at the 'cool kid's table', and it wasn't an opportunity I was going to pass up. The riders included Anthony Palicci, Ted and Laura King, Sam Boardman, Jess Cerra, Pia Scaroni, and Matt Accarino - all people I admired and was keen to get to know better. But there was someone else on the trip, too. And that person was Jim. However, Jim wasn't there to ride. Jim was there to photograph the journey, coordinate the logistics, look after everyone, and ensure we all 'kept the ocean on our right' and arrived safely and comfortably to our destination at the end of each day.
He did this with a smile and the occasional witty remark and captured countless beautiful photos to memorialize the trip. He mostly kept to himself for the first few days, but as the trip went on, I witnessed a bright, vibrant personality begin to emerge from within Jim. While we hadn't known each other long, we quickly developed an understanding of one another, albeit slightly from afar. As the others pumped out Instagram Reels, daily posts, and numerous stories featuring his full crop of photos from each day, I didn't post any of his images. He noticed. And he let me know.
This was January of my first year as a Professional Privateer Gravel Racer. I was dipping my toes in the water of what had just become my new full-time job. I was wide-eyed, trying to quickly learn the ropes as I dove headfirst into this new adventure. Truth be told, I loved his photos; I just couldn't quite find the right words to accompany the artistic beauty he had captured. I was tired after each day's ride. The last thing I felt like doing each night after logging seven-plus hours on the bike was to create a thoughtful Instagram post that would do justice to his photos. So I didn't. I just went to sleep.
On the second day of the trip, we rode through the stunning landscape of Big Sur. After many hours of twisty, sinuous tarmac along this primarily uninhabited stretch of coastline, we came to Ragged Point, the lunch stop for the day. Ted and I pulled into the parking lot and cruised to the van where Jim stood. Jim, being the gentleman he is, swiftly grabbed our bikes and offered to wheel them over to the fence so we could get in line at the restaurant counter. But almost as soon as the bikes had left our hands, Jim went careening towards the ground, bringing both bikes with him. He was so focused on helping us, he hadn't seen the curb in his path and went completely ass over tea kettle, in a rather spectacular fashion. He immediately jumped up, and I could tell he was petrified he had just destroyed our brand-new bikes. Fortunately for all of us, there was hardly a scratch to be found, he was equally unharmed, and we all laughed about it. I knew Jim and I would become friends from that moment on.
Fast forward to today, and we've traveled the world together, stood atop podiums together, and fallen victim to Murphy's Law on far too many occasions. As we have both tried to find our place in this young and rapidly evolving gravel racing and media space, we formed a unique friendship.
I have so many anecdotes I could share from our many adventures, but the one I feel encapsulates our relationship the best was when we made eye contact as I approached the finish line at Gravel Nationals. He knew how low my confidence was going into that race, and we both spent the days leading up to the event questioning what we were doing in Gering, Nebraska. I was far from top shape due to my recent Covid infection; the competition was sure to be fierce, and we were in the middle of nowhere. I saw Jim on the side of the race course during the race, doing his thing. Whenever I caught his silhouette, I considered pulling out of the race and getting in the car with him. But I couldn't bear the thought that I would have dragged him out to yet another gravel race in the middle of nowhere just to come home empty-handed and disappointed. I couldn't possibly post another one of his photos of me looking dejected at the finish line, explaining how 'it just wasn't my day' or something similar. I was tired of making those posts, he was tired of taking those photos, and I'm sure you all were tired of seeing them.
So I kept on. I've never suffered quite like that in a race before. Yet I continued. I was still in the front group, and as the miles ticked away, the group continued to thin. Ultimately, I made the final selection, and with about 2k left in the race, I made a well-timed, tactical solo attack and managed to get away from the group. I put my head down and pushed with everything I had to the finish. As I rounded the final corner with 150m to the line, I looked over my shoulder and realized I was about to win the National Championship with time to celebrate. As I approached the finish line, crowded with photographers and media personnel, I spotted Jim, perfectly positioned to get the shot. We made eye contact and simultaneously realized what was occurring. Neither of us could believe it. I pointed straight at him and was overcome with emotion. We had finally done it.
Sure, it's just a bike race. Ok, a big bike race. Yes, it was the best result I've had. But it was so much more than that. It was the realization of a dream. It was the light at the end of the tunnel. It was the moment Jim and I had so often questioned. For once, there wasn't a cracked, sad photo at the finish line. No encouraging pat on the back from Jim and no "we'll get 'em next time"—none of it. We had finally done it. And I could not have been more happy to have shared the experience with him.
Recently, Jim tasked me with writing an article for the Above Category Journal reflecting on the 2024 season. I didn't know where to begin. Sure, I could run through the highs and lows of the year as it comes to an end. Of course, I could go on and on about what it meant to be crowned U.S. Gravel National Champion. Or I could talk about the devastating realization that I had contracted Covid just days before the most important race block of the year. Or I could tell any number of stories from yet another wild year of racing the world's biggest gravel races. But if you're reading this, you've likely caught glimpses of many of those stories and moments throughout the year. And if you haven't, then I suggest you head over to my Instagram page and scroll through the many photos and memories from this season. As I contemplated how to possibly sum up an entire year of racing, travel, emotion, memories, triumphs, and heartbreaks into a single article, I decided to pivot. Mostly because I felt it was time to pay tribute to a special person who has been a key fixture in my off-road racing experience over the last three years.
Jim has truly seen it all, been through it all, and played a big part in all the successes of the last few years. Yes, without his beautiful and skillfully crafted images, none of my storytelling would be possible. I appreciate his craft, talent, and passion for making said images. It enables me to craft a far more compelling narrative than without. But Jim has done far more than capture the moments we experience on the road. He's picked me up on numerous occasions after devastating failures, been there to consult with when I've been forced to go back to the drawing board for any number of reasons, and helped me find my place and path in this very unique professional environment.
As I take stock of the 2024 season, I am grateful for the small but mighty team of people around me who continue pushing me outside my comfort zone and helping me become a better athlete and person. Jim has been steadfast in supporting my journey since day one, and for that, I am eternally grateful. Thank you, Jim. Thank you all for being a part of the journey, too. I appreciate every one of you.
Mosaic GT-1 i45 U.S. Gravel National Champion Edition
- Frame: Mosaic GT-1 i45
- Cockpit: Enve Aero
- Rims: Enve SES 4.5
- Hubs: Polished Silver Chris King R45D Hubs
- Spokes: Polished Silver Sapim CX-Ray Spokes
- Shifters: Sram Red AXS
- Rear Derailleur: Sram XX SL Transmission with Custom Painted CeramicSpeed X OSPW
- Bottom Bracket: CeramicSpeed Coated BSA DUB
- Crank: SRM Origin PM9 175mm with 50t Wolftooth Chainring
- Cassette: Sram XX SL 10-52t
- Pedals: Shimano Dura-Ace with CeramicSpeed Bearings
- Tires: Rene Herse Oracle Ridge 48c Endurance Casing
- Saddle: Form Cycling Throne RS
- Headset: Polished Silver Chris King AeroSet3
- Seatpost Clamp: Polished Silver Thomson 31.8mm
- Bottle Cages: Arundel Bando
- Bottles: Above Category
- In the Bottles: OSMO Power Fuel + Hydration
- Sealant: OrangeSeal Standard
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