Two months ago, UnTapped co-founder Ted King relocated to Bentonville, Arkansas, where the Arkansas High Country Race begins. Covering 1,024 grueling miles, this ultra-cycling event draws some of the sport’s biggest names and challenges everyone who lines up. Ted won in 2020, so with Bentonville now home, he was optimistic that home-field advantage might help in 2026. Here’s how it shook out.
Words by Ted King, photography by Kai Caddy.

In ultra cycling, where the job is simple — ride, eat, and sleep — it’s amazing how much of a mental rollercoaster it can be. In the final five hours of this not-quite-four-and-a-half-day event, I wavered at least a dozen times between “Awesome, I’ve got this record in the bag!” and “Well darn… so close, but so far.”

Cutting to the chase, I crossed the line in four days, eight hours, and 58 minutes, setting a new fastest known time (FKT) by 27 minutes. The previous record belonged to Justinas Leveika, an ultra-cycling record-setting machine who set the mark in the 2025 edition. I’m proud of the result, exhausted by the effort, and thrilled that my off-season started the instant I crossed the finish line.

Let’s take a step back. I’d been following Bond Almand’s summer adventure as closely as anyone, so I knew he’d be one to watch. Bond spent a couple of days at our house before the race, and it was fun to play host and catch up on his wild summer exploits, which had him in the best shape of his life. Those included absolutely obliterating the southern lobe of the Vermont Super 8, a notoriously challenging off-road ultra. Unfortunately, Bond developed ankle pain there, forcing him to pull the plug on Arkansas High Country after an impressive first day.

From there, I was on my own, settling into an 800-mile time trial. Even writing those words feels isolating. Some people thrive in that environment, but I know ultras test my mental will as much as my physical ability.

My strategy is a basic algorithm: ride as fast as I can at a relatively low output, for as long as I can, with minimal stops while maximizing sleep. In practice, that means staying in endurance Zone 2. I can sustain that pace for hours, even days, as long as I resist creeping into tempo or threshold. That’s the mental challenge: there are plenty of times I have more gas in the tank and could push harder, but I know it’ll come back to haunt me later.

Then there’s the mantra moving is fast, stopping is slow. I keep refueling stops short to minimize time off the bike.

Conversely, ultra events are often tests of sleep deprivation. Once an event passes the 50-hour mark, I know I need real sleep — not an hour-long nap or a five-minute power nap, both common among experienced participants, but four, five, or six hours of proper rest.

In practice, I executed four perfect days and three perfect nights, followed by one miserably short final night before a huge push to the finish. Each day, I rode from before dawn until after sunset, then settled into five or six hours of solid sleep. I was relaxed, rested, and right on plan.

It wasn’t until the morning of day four that I looked up Justinas’ FKT and started playing the arithmetic puzzle: Where was I relative to his time, and what pace would I need to beat it? That’s when things can become mentally crushing. After nearly 100 hours, my emotions have been pounded to smithereens, and it’s demoralizing to watch your pace drop on any incline climb or challenging section.

Nutrition, of course, plays a big role. I started the ArHC with a buffet of UnTapped packed into my pockets and bikepacking bags: nearly a carton of gels, around a dozen waffles, and just shy of 90 ounces of Mapleaid. I’d love to pack two, three, or four times as much, but real estate on the bike and weight quickly become limiting factors. That means supplementing with whatever I can find at a gas station or grab from a restaurant or grocery store.

One thing I was excited to try for the first time was buying a pint of maple syrup at a grocery store and pouring it straight into my water bottle. In the nutritional unknown of an ultra, knowing I could sip maple syrup for the next couple of hours was reassuring.

On at least two days, I also picked up dry ramen packets and cans of tuna late in the day when I knew hot water would be available. Carbs and salt are your friends in any endurance event, and protein helps during these extended efforts. Gosh, what I would have done to get some UnTapped Recovery late into the day!

The final push to the line was miserable, thanks largely to getting just 90 minutes of sleep overnight. My stomach was unhappy after a fast-food dinner — the only option near where I slept — and, after four days of beautiful weather, the sun was scorching. To top it off, the final 190 miles featured two massive climbs: one around 12 miles long, the other nearly 20. How can Arkansas have climbs that long, you ask? Go explore Arkansas’ Boston Mountains and you’ll find out. They stair-step, they’re steep both up and down, and they’re relentless.

As my average speed continued to fall, my optimism sank with it. Every descent made me think I still had a shot at the FKT; every ascent chipped away at that confidence. Finally, I conquered the last climb, and the long descent to the finish in Bentonville brought my spirits back as my average speed picked up. The finish of ultra cycling events usually mean a collection of crickets chirping away, so Bentonville was a circus. My family was there, the event organizers, photographers and videographers, friends, fans, and random folks just walking by. Probably two dozen people in total welcomed me home.

I crossed the line just 27 minutes ahead of Justinas. That’s a margin of 0.4%, a sprint by ultra-cycling standards!