TWO FOR TWO AT HOMEGROWN
MG does the double.
The season is officially upon us and there’s nothing like kicking it off with a big W at your home (grown) event.
This past weekend we sent a squad down to Franklin to tackle HomeGrown Gravel, a growing regional event with a big payout and lots of momentum. It was brutally cold and unforgiving with temperatures barely scraping 30 degrees at the start, just how we like it in February. Strangely, Marcos, a Brazilian, decided to embrace the cold and take things to a whole new level by camping out the night before, enduring sub-20-degree temps. Absolute madness.
As you’ve probably heard, MG delivered a masterclass in how to smash into a new year, clinching victory in the Elite Men’s race with a thrilling sprint finish. Watch it here—you won’t want to miss this. Plus, check out the official Cyclingnews editorial for the full breakdown.
His race report below.
Clay, Marcos, and Allen delivered strong performances on a really demanding course, showcasing the grit you earn from a winter of Airport Ride. But for MG, the true victory extended beyond crossing the finish line first—it was about celebrating the team’s collective effort, camaraderie, and hard-earned success in the best way possible: together.
Weekly +SpeedStudio Saturday’s ride details in our Strava Club here.
MGR CORNER
First race report of the year! It’s a doozy.
My HomeGrown adventure started the night before. Wayne Whitesides, the race promoter, had offered me a place to stay near the venue, so I packed up on Friday evening and hit the road. With such a quick trip, I didn’t need much—kit, bottles, mix, and a couple of Tupperwares of prepped food.
That being said, I packed differently. I couldn’t answer why, it just made sense at the time. I threw my pack and mix into an empty Amazon box and stacked my breakfast, extra food, Aeropress (essential, obviously), and a few other things in a brown paper bag on top. It got the job done.
I grabbed the bags*, loaded up, and made my way to Franklin. I’d already eaten dinner, so once I arrived, there wasn’t much to do— shower, stretch, sleep.
I’m an early riser, usually up before six to soak in the quiet morning hours. Saturday was no different—up at 5 on the dot, no alarm needed. I lingered for a bit before heading to grab breakfast and get organized. I felt like something was missing. I checked my truck, checked my room. That’s when it hit me.
No pack-filled Amazon box. No mix.
I froze. My stomach dropped. In the blur of cardboard colors, I’d grabbed the paper bag on top but completely forgotten the box underneath.
F***.
Panic surged, but there was no time to dwell. I’ve talked a lot lately about trusting my instincts, reducing overthinking, letting the subconscious take over. Well, no thinking was needed here. In any other scenario I wouldn’t care as much about having a pack for an event but this race was important for me in my season build. I needed to test a 5-hour strategy with a pack and no feed stops. It was 5:40 AM. I grabbed my keys, jumped in the truck, and went.
By 7:15 I was back. Kit as fast as possible, make bottles, fill the pack, back in the truck to the start. I arrived at the venue at 7:50 and the race started only a few minutes later.
Side note. I was so immensely proud of how I handled the left-pack situation. A younger me would be upset, drab, and disappointed. I kept my energy up, believed, and did what I needed to get done. Good job MG. Mistakes do happen.
A doozy, right? Told you.
Lights out, and away we went. Honestly, I don’t mind a bit of chaos in the morning—it makes for a better story. Pure race reports can be a snooze-fest. He attacked, this guy chased, someone yelled at me... you get the idea.
That said, here’s a quick rundown:
The first hour? Nothing to report—just an easy group cruise. By hour 1:15, Ian Boswell started testing the waters with a few attacks, trying to liven things up. I countered one, mostly for fun, but the group was still too fresh, and I wasn’t about to waste energy just dangling off the front. A few small moves went, but overall, the race felt pretty negative—no one fully committing, just a lot of watching(me) and waiting.
Around mile 30, L’esperance (former Canadian champ, absolute powerhouse), jumped across to a rider hanging a few seconds up the road. He had flown down and I knew he was a man to watch. I let their gap establish before kicking hard on a downhill road section and rolling up to them. No one followed, we had a gap. We rolled the eyes to the back of the head for a while, establishing the gap before easing up to very hard.
We pushed hard all day. No relenting, no skipped turns, no bullshit.
By mile 70, we’d dropped one rider, and it was just L’esperance and myself. We made a quick stop at the last feed zone—both of us had lost bottles and were starting to feel the fumes.
The rest of the race? Same story. No attacks, just solid pulls. Both of us seemed to be wanting a sprint.
5500Kjs, 100 miles, 8500ft of climbing and we are sprinting?!?!?! Crazy.
I’d been working on my kick all winter, and now was my chance to put it to the test. We hit the paved section with just a few hundred meters to go. I took the front, not afraid to lead it out.
We made a sharp left with about 200 meters to the line, he launched on the inside.
Side by side, we fought all the way to the line. Honestly, the sprint is a blur—everything was so all-out, so intense, so much conviction it felt almost painless. In the last 15 meters, I found the final surge to edge him out.
Job done. Stoked.
An absolute highlight of my day came when Marcos rolled in. He finished the 60 miler just after me and hadn’t heard or seen any results yet. When he asked how it went, I told him I won, and he lit up. We cheered and shared a grand hug.
That moment? Pure gold. Teammates. That was really so truly special. It’s what is so special about this club. Different races, different efforts, but celebrating together.
We enjoyed some post-race beverages from a victory chalice before packing up and heading our way home.
Not a bad Saturday.
Happy riding,
MG
+SPEEDY UPDATES
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