Motivation is harder to come by in these winter months. Sometimes it arrives in the form of a Zwift group ride or a brief respite from the cold, but most often I have to find it by remembering the high notes of the season I just left behind. Looking back on 2022, it’s hard for me to imagine a better way to end my year than with a trip to Bentonville for Big Sugar Gravel.

Visiting Bentonville: Once more, with feeling.

Like many of us, I’ve developed an appreciation for Northwest Arkansas. My first exposure was in May of this year, when I stayed with a friend to race Rule of Three. That event is probably deserving of its own blog post, but I’d strongly recommend checking it out based on the vibes alone.

But back to Bentonville: It’s developed a reputation as a riding destination, and I’d say its reputation is well-earned.

The small city has enough mountain bike trails to keep you busy for days. Slaughter Pen and Coler are must-visits, as is Back 40 in neighboring Bella Vista. For novice riders, OZ Trails even has a thorough list of beginner-friendly trails that are suitable for ages 2 and up.

For road and gravel, let’s just say it’s a few large steps above what we’re accustomed to in NYC. I’d recommend connecting with a shop ride at The Meteor to get your bearings, but you’ll also have a great time if you’re more interested in exploring alone. If you plan your ride accordingly, you can be on dirt roads within your first 5 miles of riding.

Should you need a break from riding your bicycle, I’d strongly recommend the following:

• The Meteor for coffee, eats, wine, and any riding supplies

• Airship Coffee for more coffee (they even have an outpost in Coler MTB preserve)

• Onyx Coffee Lab for even more coffee (are you sensing a theme?)

• The Pedaler’s Pub for a casual meal with beers

• CO-OP for ramen

• Bartleby’s Seitan Stand for post-ride vegan eats

• Spice Shuttle for Indian fare

• Bike Rack Brewing Co. for post-ride beers with the squad

Pre-rides, shakeouts, and catch-ups

For me, traveling to Bentonville is also about seeing old friends. I was fortunate enough to be staying with connections from my prior life of working in the Boston bike industry (which might account for why I’m still waxing poetic on this visit nearly 4 months later), but chances are you’ll cross paths with someone you know if you find yourself in town for an event.

The town is especially packed on Big Sugar weekend, as it conveniently overlaps with Outerbike. There were even more vinyl-wrapped Sprinters than usual, but the town seemed ready for it. Shops handled the increased traffic with ease, coffee and food service was still easy to come by, and I didn’t get the sense that traffic was at all perturbed by having even more cyclists on the road.

I arrived on Thursday, which gave me some time to settle in, unpack, and see how my bicycle had fared during air travel. I opened the flight case to find it mostly unscathed, so I reassembled it and took advantage of the opportunity to preview the final few miles of the Big Sugar course and catch a sunset. After the ride we headed to The Pedaler for dinner, where I was quickly able to confirm that everyone else was following a similar plan.

If you’re not visiting with friends, you’ll find plenty of opportunities to make new ones. This year there were four different shakeout rides on Friday, all of which presented an opportunity to preview the terrain and partake in good-vibe rides with folks from around the world. I met riders from as close as Rogers, Arkansas, and as far as Seoul, South Korea.

In short, bring a few extra kits and expect to make some new connections.

Race day (Alternate title: The search for a pig named Buttons)

If you’re new to Big Sugar, it’s a simple gravel affair. The full course is 104.1 miles and leads riders from Bentonville up into the Ozarks for a mostly-reasonable ~7,000ft of elevation gain. It’s the last event of the Lifetime Grand Prix, and also offers a shorter course option called “Lil Sugar,” which was 52.8 miles this year.

With all the good Bentonville vibes as a wind beneath my wings, my race got off to a great start. The event began with a delightfully-civil neutral rollout, and we hit our first gravel road without incident just before mile 6. From there, my day seemed like it was going according to plan.

I was riding with a friend who knew the roads well. The two of us easily held our own in a group of similarly-paced riders, and were quickly able to climb our way through the ranks whenever the terrain got more technical. I had realistic expectations for my day and found myself calmly riding within my limits and following my nutrition plan closely. As more riders around me eased up on the pace or succumbed to flats, I found myself working in a smaller group that was riding cleverly. I was grateful, and even had some headspace to take in the beautiful terrain that I’d be spending the day on.

Things changed for me somewhere before the first checkpoint at mile 37.7. The road was getting lumpy and I was excited about making up some time on punchy climbs, but instead my front tire punctured and decided to make its displeasure known by spraying sealant all over the world around us.

I was teased by that tire sealant for what felt like ages. It would seal the puncture and stop spraying me in its desperate bid for my attention, only to let go once again and resume it’s newfound hobby of decorating me and my bike with tenacious goop. Eventually it became clear that I’d have to hop off and intervene. I once had dreams of an event-free day, with only a quick pit stop to meet a pig named Buttons at the last checkpoint of the day, but now I was in a position of trying to salvage my ride from a mechanical. “Tell Buttons I’m on my way,” I said in frustration as I pulled to the side of the road.

As you’d expect, it’s easy to find a puncture when it’s spewing sealant like an open fire hydrant. I hastily wrestled some tire plugs from my jersey pocket, inserted one into the tire, and began gently rocking the puncture to sleep by rotating the tire back in forth in an effort to get it to seal.

Great news: It sealed. In fact, I’m staring at that same tire and plug as I type this. Both are probably frustrated with me for not tending to them further after the initial repair, but that’s their fault for continuing to hold air after a hacky roadside fix.

I added a bit of air, hopped back on, and got to work. While the repair took less than 10 minutes, I knew I had a hard effort ahead of me to make up for the time I’d lost. I rode through the checkpoint at mile 37.7 and made the decision to press on without stopping for supplies. If you ride with me you know this probably isn’t an issue, as I’m an over-packer and usually have an entire bodega’s worth of food in my jersey pockets.

From there, I fell into a routine. I kept an eye on my HR and power, and maintained an effort at the very upper end of tempo to find my way back to the group I’d lost contact with. I caught them long before the water stop at mile 57.6 (where I stopped to refill bottles and politely decline a whiskey shot), and even decided to continue my effort to find a new group closer to the front of the race. Despite burning more matches than I’d initially planned, things were once again going well.

I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t allow myself enough time to meet Buttons when I arrived at the Whistling Springs Brewing Co. for the second official checkpoint of the day. At that point I’d clawed my way back to a position that I was feeling good about, and opted for a high-speed, all-business approach to fueling and leaving. Bottles were topped up, drink mix was mixed, pickle juice and Coca Cola were slammed, pockets were emptied of trash, and I was on my way. I barely remember the short climb out of the checkpoint, but I do recall being photographed while making a very unflattering face of exertion. If you find said photograph on the internet, please feel free to contact me discretely.

It was after that checkpoint that things got tough. For the final 25% of the race we all wrestled with 20 mph headwinds, which were difficult to handle with poise. At times I found myself riding with bite-sized echelons on wide dirt roads, but FOMO always had me leap-frogging ahead to try and find the next group and make up more time. As a result, I spent quite a bit of time digging deep and riding alone. Drinking half of a Coca-Cola at the final water stop had me feeling like Popeye downing some spinach, and I rolled across the finish line in 229th overall with some healthy salt angels on my back.

Reflections, closing thoughts, and aspirations

If you can’t already tell, Buttons and I have some unfinished business. Big Sugar is once again on my calendar for 2023, and I’m already saving my pennies for another trip down to Northwest Arkansas. Registration opens on March 1st and is first-come first-served.

Until then, I’m still trying to get all this sealant off my MTB shoes. I’ll buy a beer at Fat Tire or Pedaler’s for anyone who knows how to restore them to their former glory.