FoCo Fondo: Maybe The Perfect Gravel Event?

I’d tell you that the FoCo Fondo is a perfect gravel event, but the journalist in me shies away from words as subjectively absolute as “perfect.” Maybe let’s just call it the ideal gravel event. Honestly, though, it really is pretty damn perfect.

At a time when other high-profile races have worn out their welcome in their local communities, the 10-year-old FoCo Fondo continues to thrive. Here’s why it’s great:

1. Fort Collins. By necessity, lots of gravel events are held in relatively remote locales¹. There aren’t a lot of unpaved roads in major cities, after all. Fort Collins, however, is a full-fledged city, meaning there’s plenty to eat, drink, and do in an enthusiastically bike-friendly town that’s still small enough to have killer gravel just a few minutes away from Old Town.
2. The event weekend. Organizers Zack and Whitney Allison are former pros who care about more than just bike stuff. They’ve built a full weekend of fun, featuring expos, meetups, parties, and live music, plus multiple shakeout rides on Saturday. Truth be told, calling this a “weekend” may not be fair — they also offer a year-long program of training rides, skills clinics, and community support. I was especially pleased to see their ongoing out-reach to folks who often aren’t well-represented at cycling events — including women, families, people of color, non-binary, and para athletes.
3. The rides. Fort Collins and the Northern Front Range don’t get their due as one of Colorado’s best gravel destinations, but they’ve certainly given Zack plenty to work with. His hand-crafted routes play out over a rolling mix of hard-packed dirt, actual gravel, occasional rough stuff, and a little bit of pavement. In addition to a 12-mile route for newcomers, kids, and families, the fondo’s main routes cover 32, 60, 100, and 118 miles. Be forewarned: These courses escalate in intensity beyond what their increasing distances would already indicate (particularly between the 100 and 118 milers — the latter layers another 2,900 feet of climbing on top of its 18 extra miles). Aid stations are plentiful and well-stocked.

Throughout my weekend in Fort Collins I heard over and over that it’s an ideal event for the first-time rider or racer, a sentiment I fully share. In short, FoCo Fondo can be either a very hard-core endurance event or a three-day bike party. Or both. There’s something here for every kind of gravel cyclist.

My Ride

I rode to the start line of the FoCo Fondo with no expectations whatsoever. There’d been a plan originally, of course. I had expected to ride with a friend who was having back surgery the following week. He’d be recuperating for several months and so we’d signed up for FoCo as the summer’s final hurrah, even if his janky back meant we’d have to limit ourselves to an easy spin on the shortest of the event’s four main distances.

Or so we thought. At the last minute doctors re-scheduled his surgery for that Monday, which meant he wouldn’t be making the trip to Fort Collins and I’d be on my own. I was disappointed but nonetheless looking forward to exploring roads I’d never ridden before.

I got to the start 45 minutes early with a full belly after a great Sunday breakfast at Ginger & Baker. Riders taking on the 60, 100 and 118-mile courses had been on the road since as early as 6 a.m. Doing the 32 miler, with its 9 a.m. departure, sure made for a far more civilized morning.

The mood was light as more participants arrived. Selfies were taken and shoes tightened. I chatted with a middle-aged couple from Fort Collins who had seen the ride go by their house year after year and had now decided to try gravel bikes themselves for the first time. Like many of the 32-miler’s 500 or so entrants, we hid from the already hot sun under tents that were about 30 yards behind the actual starting archway.

Closer to the front, and fully in the sun, a few dozen riders jockeyed for position. I saw plenty of nice bikes and soon noticed that some were wearing skinsuits and hydration packs.

Wait a minute. Hydration packs? For a 32-mile “ride?” Should I be worried? Is this a ride…or a race?

It was at that moment that the first thought of actually competing entered my head. And just as quickly I dismissed it.

I’m a planner. You know the advice about measuring twice and cutting once? That’s always struck me as pretty reckless. I’m more of a measure four times kind of guy.

For me, a race would require structured workouts, power targets, and an in-depth analysis of the course. It sure wouldn’t have been preceded by a smothered burrito. As the clock ticked closer to 9 a.m., I reminded myself that I hadn’t raced since 2022 and in the seven months since selling my business my riding had been all about decompressing. Who was I kidding?

C’mon…it’s a short course…no more than two hours tops. Maybe just go out with the front group and see how fast they are? What’s the worst that could happen?

I was contemplating several of those worst scenarios when the starter’s horn sounded and bikes surged forward all around me.

Mass starts can be squirrelly. Whether you’re talking about a charity ride or an actual race, you’ve got lots folks bunched together, amped on adrenaline, and all trying to clip in and start their bike computers. To avoid early crashes, I always try to distance myself from the main group as soon as possible.² Today, this approach had the added benefit of allowing me to bridge to the front group of about 50 riders and still tell myself I wasn’t racing.

My heart rate was higher than I would have liked, but as the lead 50 quickly strung out, I was able to settle in with a group of about 20 well-paced riders. My strategy, if you could call it that, was simple. Hang on for a bit and let’s see what happens.

Most of the early miles were on pavement until we escaped Fort Collins proper, but shortly after turning onto gravel we hit a hill on Weld County Road 86 that stopped many of the riders literally in their tracks. Not that it was ridiculously steep (no more than about 5 percent overall) or especially long (only a few hundred yards). It was, however, covered in several inches of loose sand.

Some walked their bikes and others fishtailed as they fought to stay upright. A few of the more aggressive types veered off the road, seeking traction in the tall grass along the shoulder. Without thinking, I followed. Though my legs were burning, I realized I was happily counting the riders we passed who were still struggling on the sandy road.

Once atop the hill, about a dozen of us regrouped. I could no longer deny that I was racing. But what about everyone else? No one was talking much and I honestly wasn’t sure if they were competing or they were just strong cyclists out for a fun Sunday ride.

Over the next seven miles we cruised through farmland and past Kaliska Reservoir while I looked for clues. Simply asking “Are we racing?” would have been too embarrassing — especially if the answer was no. So I kept quiet, unsure of where I stood until all 12 blew past the aid station at Mile 16 without stopping.

Aha! We’re racing!

High winds are common on the plains east of the Front Range, but we were lucky to have gotten a still day. We maintained a strong pace, but I felt good. By about 26 miles, our group had whittled down to four riders — me and three friends.

Turning onto Inverness Road, one of the three went down in loose corner. We all stopped. Lindsey looked OK but said she had hit her head. Sure enough, there was a big divot in the back of her helmet. Her husband Elliott encouraged Amy and me to continue, and after a bit of arguing, we pressed on.

At this point we started talking. This was Amy’s fourth FoCo Fondo and she said that each had been better than the last. She’d done the 60-mile route last year and her take was that it was more of a community ride, while our shorter course attracted more racers than you’d expect.

We crossed the finish line together and were both thankful for the cold towels handed out by volunteers. Amy took my number and later let me know that Lindsey was doing fine.

To my surprise, I had finished 36th out of the 32-miler’s 538 total entrants and 4th in my age group. That’s hardly a podium at Leadville, but I was thrilled. For an obsessive planner like me, the day’s results felt like a much-needed reminder that not everything needs to be planned. Opportunities can be seized in the moment.

After a good long shower, I headed back to Ginger and Baker, where I rewarded my tired legs with a nice slice of apple pie.³ À la mode.

So maybe FoCo Fondo actually is the perfect gravel event? In that moment, enjoying my pie, I sure couldn’t come up with any arguments to the contrary. Yep, perfect.

1. I’m looking at you Emporia, KS. ↩︎
2. I realize that this flies in the face of the other standard advice given to new racers (“don’t go out too hard from the start”). All I can say is I’d rather blow-up early than crash. The trick is to find the sweet spot between the two, though that’s far easier said than done. ↩︎
3. Bonus points to Ginger and Baker for understanding that “warmed up” means just that. “Warmed.” As in, the pie vaguely remembers what it was like to be in an oven. Not microwaved to scalding levels. ↩︎