I’ve driven through Sheridan, Wyoming more times than I can count. I’ve been going back and forth between Billings and Laramie, Cheyenne, or Denver for more than half my life. I always thought that the scenery around Sheridan was so green and beautiful. When it came time to plan the annual cousin’s ride, I was looking for an event somewhere between Denver and Bozeman. I was thrilled to find the Dead Swede right there in Sheridan.
The event offered 100, 60, and 40 mile route options. They even had a 20 mile option for beginners and families… what’s that saying about starting ’em young? We opted for the 40 mile route and registered back in February. Leading up the to event, there were only a handful of emails from the organizers, which I appreciated. Packet pickup was the day before rather than the day off. While that might eliminate some of the race day chaos, it pretty much requires that participants book some form of lodging for one night.

I loved that the event started and finished at Kendrick Park, right there in the heart of town. These lovely creatures were grazing on the hillside overlooking the park as we lined up at the start line. Our wave departed at 8:00 AM. The course headed west on a paved gradual climb for about nine miles. Then the course turned north onto the gravel nestled along the base of the Bighorn Mountains and the biggest climb of the route began.
Shortly after that climb was the first of three very well stocked aid stations. The aid stations were positioned about every 10-12 miles or so. The second aid station offered pickle juice shots, and the third aid station offered bacon and PBR. I skipped the beer but had two slices of bacon. The organizers clearly communicated that cars shouldn’t be on the course providing services to riders – that’s what the aid stations were for. This was for rider safety, and to minimize the dust in the air. I thought this was brilliant and would love for other gravel events to take a similar stance. Of course there was a car here and there, but they didn’t kick up the dust like I have typically experienced when riding on a gravel road. I’m not sure why this was – perhaps it rained the day before, perhaps they use oil on the roads?
After crossing the finish line, racers were greeted by cheering crowds, a band in the amphitheater, and the smell of delicious barbecue. Overall, it was a very well marked course, communications were optimized, and the process from registration to packet pickup to post meal collection was seamless. Registration fees included a very cool Dead Swede t-shirts, sticker, and pint glass. I highly recommend this event!













contemplating leaving. His response was that it would be just as hard for everyone else as it would be for me. As I pinned the number to my jersey, I thought to myself that I’ll just ride it; then I won’t have any expectations nor disappointment about how I finish. Then we got a FaceTime call from our daughter who we hadn’t spoken to in a couple of days. It proved to be the perfect distraction. When we hung up, I had only about 30 minutes before the start time to pedal around and half-heartedly warm-up. Besides, who needs to warm-up for ride??


After all the effort that we’d put into transferring the race entry, I was somewhat surprised that my name was, in fact, on the racer’s list at packet pickup. The bigger surprise, however, was my race number. Yep, I was lucky 

