It’s been awhile since my last race, another Big Blue Adventure Series race. This one was the Castaic Lake AR situated about 80 miles north of LA along Highway 5. The fastest team crossed the finish line in just over 6 hours and 15 minutes.

Our team “Odds and Ends” was composed of Lisa, Melissa and myself. I had raced with Mel before and had only just met Lisa a few weeks prior. Again, trying new teammates on for size on race day is of course a “no-no” along with trying new gear and new fuel on race day. But after having talked with Lisa for a few hours during the course of the weeks leading up to the race, I felt comfortable with that decision.

Race morning got started a little late as the park rangers didn’t open the gates until about 6:15am and there was a long line of SUVs with kayaks waiting to enter. We met up in the parking lot without a hitch thanks to cell phones. I had stayed in a hotel, Mel drove up that morning and Lisa slept in her truck! She is apparently more of a man than I am.

Gear was staged and we immediately started strategizing when we got the map. Mel is phenomenal at that aspect of the game. She knows everyone – really. She is a tremendous asset in that she somehow manages to get teams to spill their guts about what they know which ultimately saves us gobs of time. You almost don’t even a need a map with Mel around.

So we figured on a run to the kayaks and from there some running around between kayak portions, and we were correct. The gun went off a few minutes after the briefing and we all ran like sheep to our kayaks, which were about a mile away or so up a steep hill. We took it easy knowing that it would be a long hot day. We put into the water dead last, which made it easier to find the first kayak checkpoint – just look for all the other kayaks. I was in the single and the women were in the double kayak.

At CP 1 we were given new instructions and realized we had a several mile running leg ahead of us before we would be going back to the kayaks. No worries, I had the map and we decided to start with some obvious CPs (since you could do this portion of the race in any order you wanted) to get our confidence up. We passed at least one team along the way to CP1A, and we all noted how hot it was getting at 9:30 am and knew that hydration would be an important aspect of the day’s events. We found all the CPs on the run without any difficulty at all, and on the way back we managed to cut off several teams by bushwhacking a bit. I was feeling good about my nav ability at that point, and Lisa and Mel who hadn’t met until that morning were getting along famously, which was a huge relief.

So it was back in the kayaks and it was a relief to be on the water again due to the heat. We picked up the next few check points without a hitch and Mel’s networking was more valuable than my nav skills at that point. Lisa took one for the team at one point by jumping into waste deep stagnant (and completely disgusting) water to grab a CP for us.

If you haven’t raced with a team that is predominately women, you should definitely consider it. As soon as you are outnumbered the chatter becomes brazen and well ... like guy talk, only worse. It’s like as women they never receive any sensitivity training that guys run into as we go through life in the workplace or whatever. Like I had to cover my ears at one point because the talk was, well, graphic. As a married man who is somewhat of a prudish geek I often didn’t know how to respond. Still though it was entirely in good fun and I couldn’t have had a better time. At the very least it was an eye opener into the dynamics of women.

Anyhow, back to kayaks where they had mercy on me and changed topics. So we finished up the kayak portion eventually, and quite frankly I was whipped at that point. It was a little over 7 miles on the kayaks. I even commented that I could end the race right then and feel pretty good. Of course I got a pair of dirty looks for that.

So we ran back to the transition area and were well out of dead last at that point, having passed several teams on the water. Then it was off on the bikes. I elected to pick up the obvious CP first (again this portion of the race could be done in any order) and take it from there. In retrospect it was a tactical mistake on my part as we probably did an extra 1,000 feet of climbing because of it.

Mel puked on the way to the top of the hill. She was a trooper though and didn’t let it slow her down. Lisa and I however were worried about her and decided amongst ourselves to take about 10 minutes at the top of the hill in the shade and breeze to let Mel recover. Her watch said it was 105 degrees outside.

We were able to spot the next CP on the next hill over, and so we decided as a team that the fastest way to get there was “as the crow flies”. That was also the steepest way to get there. I ended up carrying my bike and Mel’s bike up an insanely steep hill. It was something I would continue to do for the rest of the day. However on that hill, with poor footing, an insanely steep grade and in full direct sun I used a lot of what I had in me up, and I would end up paying for it later on.

We rested again briefly at the top of the hill, before cutting over to the CP. We caught about 5 teams there which was fantastic. We also met Mel’s BF coming back the other way on his way to the last leg of the race. He gave us some directions as best he could and we were off with a pack of other riders. Some of the riders wanted to go one way, some another. I wanted to go a third way. Lisa and Mel trusted me, which was awesome of them, and we got to the CP because I was right. We caught another team there.

Then things got rough. We had at this point been walking about 30% of the time on the bike course (ouch!). That 30% turned into 90% over the next several miles. At one point Mel fell off the edge of a small cliff. She was not wearing her helmet and we were about as far from anywhere as we could get. I know I was freaked out when I saw her, clutching her ankle and sitting about 5 feet below the trail with her bike underneath her at a very un-bike-like angle.

Miracle of miracles her ankle was just sore, probably from being bonked on the way down, her bike was fully operational and she didn’t gonk her skull. I couldn’t believe her luck. We all laughed about it of course, and continued … on foot walking our bikes in the baking sun.

At some point we picked up another CP and Mel started feeling very poorly. Lisa and I again decided to rest her in what little shade we could find. After about 10 minutes Mel put on a long sleeve shirt of all things and then started to feel better. The sun had been getting to her and from then on she was much better off.

I was starting to go into survival mode however. I, like a complete idiot, had left most of my race food in the car. I had probably taken in only 900 calories over 6 hours of racing and with no end in sight was starting to have trouble. I was feeling “extremely mediocre” and Lisa and Mel could tell. I told them what was up, and kind as they were they didn’t berate me – not even when the race was over. They of course offered their food to me, but it was all wheat based products – which is a no go.

At one point Lisa trooped a bit ahead to pick up a CP leaving Mel and I to take it easy and catch up with her slowly. At that checkpoint we had a decision to make. We could either backtrack and stay on the trail which would cost us several hundred vertical feet of elevation and take us to our final bike CP and a water station or we could bushwhack and get there through tougher terrain but require less climbing though what looked like a not-as-steep hill.

At this point my feeling of the team was that we were at our weakest. Lisa hadn’t uttered a single complaint and had been rock solid in every way throughout the duration – like the Terminator, a machine that just keeps going and going. I realized later was that she really needed some more encouragement and support emotionally throughout the race, perhaps just from time to time as a maintenance type thing. Maybe she will read this and say I am way wrong, but she did at one point ask another team for a hug, which implied to me she wasn’t getting the support she needed from us. Mel was doing better, and has a weird way of recovering from heat and exhaustion despite continued heat and physical exertion. Mel has these physical peaks and valleys (from my perspective) that she travels through during the race and it’s just part of who she is, but she doesn’t stop either, that’s for sure.

But as a team I felt like we were coming a bit unglued. Neither of them was fully committed that my idea of bushwhacking was the right choice. In return, I forced the issue a bit, which is probably what I am still feeling guilty about. I basically said, “look, this is the way there and this is where we are going… “ and then started walking. They followed me and it felt like every 10^th step I heard “are we there yet” or some other derivative of that from one of them. I was extremely stressed because I knew I was right (but there’s always some doubt) and I didn’t have the tools or wherewithal to inspire and lead them in a good fashion other than basically what amounted to an ultimatum of “my way or the highway”. The entire 15 minute climb to the top I was in hell – I thought for certain we wouldn’t finish the race as a team and that it was primarily my fault for forcing a nav issue and that I couldn’t keep it together because I didn’t know what to say to them. I just didn’t have anything left in me except sheer bloody-mindedness to walk my bike to the top of the hill hoping that they would follow me.

As it turns out the CP was *not* at the top of the hill as I had promised.

It was however in sight along a smooth and blessedly flat trail about ¼ mile away.

We rode in and got water, and as it turns out cut about 20 minutes off our time, based on when the next teams started to show up.

After that it was a fast rolling ride (!) to the transition area and with a few nav adjustments we made it in good time and high spirits.

You would think that this was the end of the race, but it wasn’t.

The race organizers had a few surprises left. We had to row an inflatable kayak out to a buoy and pick up another CP with special instructions on it – the catch is that you couldn’t swim or use a paddle. I insisted on “helping” Mel which was a mistake. It took us three times a long to get out there as it would have taken her by herself – ack.

So after that we had one more CP to pick up on foot. At just about that time, I bonked hard. I just had no gas left. I had probably had 1,500 calories all day (including breakfast) and just didn’t have anything left. Mel was hitting her usual end of the race stride where she gets this insane burst of energy from nowhere and is ready to sprint the last three miles. Lisa was again in perfect form and talked me through it and listened to my complaints about my leg and how I was just plain whipped. Lisa talked about other things and kept my spirits up and at some point got me to run again. That same support I had been singularly unable to offer either of my teammates earlier in the day when I felt like things were at their worst. Mel offered to carry my pack for the last mile or two. I let her, and so as a team, we crossed the finish line in 10 hours and 18 minutes.

The results page is down right now, but as I recall we were 19/24 that finished. Another 13 teams DNF that day. On a day where more than 33% of the field DNFs, any place is a win.

It’s been a month since the race, and my leg, which really was hurt (I strained a hip-flexor or something and haven’t been able to run) is about ready to go again. I have to get back into fighting shape again since I took a month off though.

That day I drank over 250 ounces of water and lost ten pounds of actual weight. Everyone has been commenting since the day after the race how skinny I look. I got on the scale about a week after the race and weighed only 160 pounds – fully clothed. Usually I scratch 175 with shoes. I checked again last week and it was still off… yea me!

Lisa and Mel were both totally awesome. They gave me lots of help and stuck with me through my good choices and more poor decisions. I would race with either or both of them again in a second if they would have me.

Team Bacon is a team that my friends and I sort of have. It’s more about eating bacon and foods with bacon in them and playing video games than racing mountain bikes, but it’s what we loosely refer to ourselves as a group.

So Team Bacon (or two of us at any rate) signed up for an adventure race at Sea Otter Classic 2007. I am a journeyman level adventure racer and my friend, Will, was an AR virgin. So we signed up for the short course race, which was supposed to be around 2 hours. A few days before the race they changed the length to 3 hours – expected finishing time of first people across the finish line. Our only goals were to have fun and finish; there were no other goals.

It ended up being a beautiful day, sunny clear and cool with a breeze; a great day to be outdoors.

The race started with a quick run up and down the beach in the sand with our life preservers on. It was a site to behold, 150 people running around in bright orange old school life preservers. We picked up our paddles and inflatable canoes and hit the water. Inflatable canoes are not really boats other than in the sense that they are designed to be used on the water. I’m not sure what they are designed to actually do once you get them in the water (other than float – which they did) but it certainly isn’t “go straight” or “get from place to place efficiently or with comfort”. The entire water portion of the event was comic. Yellow and orange inflatable canoes careening off of one another in a desperate effort to outpace each other… recall efficiency and tracking are non-existent. The most experienced kayaker went no faster than the rank amateur. The faster you tried to go, the more unstable the things were. The race erupted into a water fight and mash-up derby. I thought it was great fun, others less so.

Eventually we made the beach and ran for the transition area to pick up our bikes and the race truly began. We did well in the TA and were out within a few minutes. The first few miles were on cement and Will was faster on his bike than I had hoped he would be. Things were going quite smoothly. And we picked up the first three CPs with no incident and little navigation was required as groups people were still bunched together and the course was readily apparent. Considering it was a sprint race meant for beginners, everything was going according to plan.

After CP3 things started to get harder; I had to use the compass to determine the correct direction despite the “instructions” and the map. Many teams were lost at this point. We figured it out eventually and pressed on. I could see that Will was struggling to keep the pace up and was completely drenched. I made him have some GU and kept on him about hydrating. We backed the pace off a bit as well.

At checkpoint 4 we were informed that we were in 26^th place. Not bad considering one of us wasn’t an endurance athlete and had never raced before. We were definitely on track to completing the aforementioned goals. We continued past CP4 and at one point had to stop to check the compass again. While I was conferring with the map and the compass, Will decided to ride around a bit. He ended up finding the side road we were looking for. We continued toward CP5, the next transition area, we passed about two teams along the way, which I figured probably moved us up to around 24^th place. A little later Will acquiesced to my request of letting me get out my tow rope and tow him on the mountain bike uphill. Have you ever towed a 225 pound guy up a hill? It’s tough. Kudos to him though for letting his ego take one for the team – we kept up a good pace while others walked. No one behind us closed the gap.

At CP5 there were only 10 bikes in the TA. I didn’t know what to make of this, and in fact dismissed it completely as I knew that we had only passed two teams on the way in and were still in 24^th place. I was focused on finishing the race and completing our two “special events” that the race organizers had created for us. One was a skateboard contraption with no wheels that we had to ride and the other was some kind of balancing beam trick. We made it through those two events rapidly and went out on the run to pick up our last two CPs.

We followed another team out of the TA and up the hill. Will admitted that he was running on fumes and was quite spent. Neither of us had a watch on and had no idea what time it was, and I was glad to leave the TA where the smell of good things to eat was almost overpowering. Will had the last of his gel shots and some water, and about 5 minutes later he was in better spirits. Another team heading in after completing the course gave us directions. I should have used them but I was trying to be too tricky. Instead I watched from a hill top as two teams headed towards the last two checkpoints. My plan was to watch them claim the points and then we would know exactly where they were. One team claimed and the other team went around a hilltop corner.

We followed the second team (now knowing where CP6 was) toward what I presumed was CP7. We caught the other team about 10 minutes later and I realized to my horror that the other team wasn’t doing the same race we were doing, they were doing the long course version and had different CPs! After briefly conferring with them, we pinpointed our location on the map and decided to continue along the loop that we were taking which would (eventually) get us to CP7 and back to CP6 and then back to the finish.

I knew we were close when we crossed a small bridge, but we kept going figuring it was around there somewhere. I proceeded more slowly because I knew we had to be on top of it – I just couldn’t find it! A minute later Will heard another team behind us down the hill. As we turned to look we saw the CP – it was under the bridge. How the other team managed to see it I have no idea – or maybe I should say I have no idea how we managed to miss it. In addition to the time lost by taking the long route to this CP I knew we had just lost another place to this team – which had the same (faulty) strategy that we did. Heck maybe they had been following us!

We ran back down the hill and claimed the CP7 then ran back up the hill and claimed CP6. We saw another 4 teams along the way, and gave them good directions. They were no threat to us I could tell by the looks on their faces. Will amazed me by saying “Lets finish it up by running” – and we did just that. We spent the last ten minutes running back in and crossed the finish line together.

The race official at the finish line said, “Congratulations, you finished in 3 hours and 59 minutes and you are 5^th”.

“5^th?” I said, “Like 5^th on page 2 of the results?”

“No,” she said,”5^th place- 5^th team to cross the finish line.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. We were 5^th place overall and 5^th place in our division as well – both of which would net us a spot on the podium at a major national event. Mostly I found this amazing because all along I thought we were in about 25^th place. Although no one knew for sure, what I figure must have happened is that 20 team took a wrong turn in front of us somewhere.

As strange as it sounds, it’s not as improbable as one might think. Here’s how:

Team 1 makes a navigation error and takes a wrong turn.

Team 2 is within sight of Team 1, trying hard to keep up. Team 1 has been doing a great job so far and so Team 2 follows without hesitation.

Team 3 is within sight of Team 2, trying hard to keep up. Team 2 has been doing a great job so far and so Team 3 follows without hesitation.

Team 4 – Team 20 are all within sight of the team(s) ahead of them. Gee, since everyone else is going that way, it must be the right way to go.

There you have it, that’s how 20 teams take a wrong turn. I saw it happen at CP3 where I had to get out my compass; teams running after one another with no one looking at a map, and then 10 minutes later coming back the other way. It must have happened again farther down the road. And the only place I can think of that they all must have gone off course is where Will found the correct road just by looking around. And that’s how we jumped 20 spots into 5^th place without passing a soul.

Epilogue:

We waited around for over 2.5 hours for the awards ceremony. For third, fourth and fifth place they awarded the wrong teams not only overall but in the division as well. They wouldn’t let us on the podium. There were over 5 teams all complaining about the mistakes in the finishing times. But they didn’t listen to us. At the end they gave us some extra medals and said they would look into it. I wrote an email but never received a response. They do have the correct results on the website at least. Never-the-less we still kicked ass.

Things I learned:

Send the team out to look around corners while you are consulting the map, you never know what you might find. In our case, we found the trail that jumped us 20 spaces into 5^th place.

Wear a watch, it helps manage hydration better.

Look under bridges for CPs if you are close, those race course designers are tricky.

So we all meet for the first time at Starbucks at 5:30 am. Everyone is smiling and rarin to go. I am the lead car, and after a few wrong turns, get us to the race start. In my defense, it was dark, it had been a year since I had been there and there were no signs. However, as back up navigator I probably didn’t inspire much confidence in my teammates by not being able to find the race start.

Anyhow, all is forgiven and we unload the gear, get set up and almost made it to the bathroom prior to the race briefing. In the end, when the time comes, we are ready to start. At 6:59 Am they hand out the maps, at 7:00 am they yell "GO".

Our first leg is to CP 0 is a quick kayak out to the island in the middle of Vail lake to decipher a secret clue. I have never been in an ocean kayak before – and I was very up front with the team about this – so I don’t know there are footrests for your feet. There just wasn’t enough time before the race for me to ask a bunch of questions about it. So we get out to the island and then back the shore and my legs are KILLING me. I know in my heart there is probably very little chance of me being able to handle the full kayak portion later on.

I mention my pain to my teammates and they say: "didn’t you put your feet on the pedals"?

"The what? You mean there’s a place to put your feet in there? Oh."

So we are in dead last but its cool, because I know we won’t stay there for long.

The next short leg is a run to CP1, with the option to bring one bike. We decide not to and it appears not to matter anyhow, it’s only a few miles. We pass four teams along the way. It’s a beautiful run along a ridgeline at about 8 am. The views are nice and it feels good to be running. We pick up CP2 and run back to the TA (transition area where gear is staged). We plot only enough points to make it through the current leg, opting to take the time as we go – which ends up being a good choice.

We pass another team or two in the TA and another on the pavement heading out on the bike. We are starting to feel good. Our spirits are high and everyone is having a great time. We head off road and are now pretty well in the middle of the pack. John gives Mel a tow up the hill for a bit, and I push her some as well, we pass another team using this method. We can tell we are now solidly in the middle of the pack. Not a bad turn around from dead last to middle in under 45 minutes.

It’s about the time that we know we are going to do really well that Mike’s derailleur decides to break in half for no apparent reason. He didn’t crash, or hit a rock, or shift, or do anything. It just broke in two. It isn’t an old bike or even an old part. It’s a Shimano XT from maybe 3 years back – hell mine lasted 5 years and never broke at all. We are well and truly screwed. It takes me 25 minutes to get his bike into rideable condition again. I've only used a chain tool once before in my life, and never under pressure in a race situation, and certainly not with the added pressure that if I can't get this bike to work, the race is over, because there is another bike section later on in the race. In that 25 minutes all the other teams pass us. All of them. We are back in dead last.

Miraculously we catch two teams near CP6. One took a wrong turn and the other just can’t find CP6. We are all looking around everywhere for it – in the wrong place, someone yells and we all converge. But the derailleur is still slowing us down since Mike is limited to one speed. We make it back to the TA and somehow aren’t in dead last.

Mel’s boyfriend says he can land us a spare bike that will be waiting for us when we return from the kayak, which is phenomenal news. So we prepare to head out on the kayak after completing a “mystery event” common at the shorter ARs. It’s a balance beam walking event while carrying some sand while adhering to special rules. We finish it easily.

The team behind us pulls out of the water ahead of us. Somehow we are taking too long in the TAs, and with the kayak section coming – our slowest event we are back into “dead last”. But we head out into the lake, and it is so much nicer having the footpedals. I take a more active role in the navigation by stealing the map from John (who lets me), but it is Mel with her eagle eyes that spots CP7 at the top of a hill in the distance. There is some concern that it might not be the right CP, but since nothing else on the map is even remotely nearby, it has to be.

As we pull back out onto the water headed for CP8, we are now rowing into the wind. I am soaked in under a minute as water is constantly splashing over the bow and into my lap – and its *COLD* water. I can’t see from the spray and going is slow at best. John and I have told Mel and Mike the location of CP8 and hopefully they can find it before we get there, as we are a few minutes behind them. We are consistently behind them because they get in the boat and we shove them off. Then we get in our boat, with no one to send us off on our way. And probably also because I have no experience kayaking.

So we get to CP8 and poor Mel is frozen solid. She’s not in trouble, but it’s pretty clear that she’s going to have some real problems making it to CP9 with the cold water being constantly dumped onto her by the wind. We spend another ten minutes getting a space blanket onto her so she can retain some warmth while continuing to kayak into the wind.

The wind dies down at CP9 and it gets fairly warm in the sun. Of course, heading back to the TA is through the wind and waves again. I am more than ready to be done with the kayak by the time we hit the TA. Our position is unchanged: dead last.

We are still in dead last when we get there, but there are two other teams in site. I chow a quick bar and some pretzels and top it off with some GU. There’s another “mystery event” to do, and Mike takes one for the team by jumping into a garbage can filled with freezing lake water. So we set off on the bike, after getting some good 411 from Mel’s boyfriend about what to expect. There are people coming back from the bike as we set out on ours – ack. But we are rolling.

The bike is fun as always. Its nice to be out of the water, and I am warming up finally in the mid day sun. We pass a team on our way to CP10 – a team that eventually DNF. We pass another team on our way to CP11. John is towing Mel up the hill and I am pushing John – all three of us on our bikes. Mike’s loaner bike is working well and Mike is working hard to stay ahead of the three of us. The check points are easy to spot now, in fact CP11 is so easy to spot that I don’t recognize it for what it is and spend a few minutes running around off the bike looking for it while the others get to the top of the hill. As it turned out, the CP was an orange stake in the ground about 3 feet from where I parked my bike.

At CP 11 I get the compass out because I wanted to check the route that we were on. It takes a few extra minutes, and the team we passed, re-passes us, but I know its not a big deal since we caught them once, we will catch them again, and we do. At CP 12 we catch them leaving as we pull up. It’s now time to head back to the TA. On the way down, Mel runs into a rut in the middle of the fire road and goes down like a sack of bricks. But she pops right back up and dusts herself off – I know she is fine because she immediately says “I hope I didn’t scratch my bike”.

We catch the other team about halfway back to the TA. They stop to check the map, but we recognize where we are and barrel past them. In a matter of minutes they are ancient history. We aren’t in “dead last” anymore.

So it’s back to the TA and out on the run. Mel’s boyfriend is cheering us on. Someone says “hurry up or you’ll miss the awards ceremony”, to which we respond “we are still racing”. We get an embarrassed “oh” as a response. Mike seems to have hit a bit of a wall. He wants to trek rather than run so he can have time to digest whatever it was he just ate. Fair enough, we set off on foot. Mel is dragging on the hills a bit, and she suggests towing. She ties a rope to the back of my pack and the front of hers and off we go up the hill. We pick up CP13 and CP14 fast enough, everyone jogs on the downhill sections. I want to keep running but it appears that the group consensus is to walk. Somewhere below us a team has decided to bushwack, and is really screwing up their navigation. I’m glad it isn’t us.

There are some doubts as to whether we are heading in the right direction to CP15, but I’m confident that we are, and I am right - thankfully. John has let me take over the navigation almost entirely at this point and I am glad we aren’t missing the mark. The last CP, CP16, is near and our spirits are high. We have all forgotten we are racing, but at this point, it is ok. The race is almost over, and we are glad to see the end. So glad in fact that about halfway back to the finish line someone says “so where’s our last CP?”

OH. RIGHT. John and I look at the map, and luckily we aren’t too far away. Someone suggests we just bushwack to it, and we arrive after about 5 minutes of jogging through the scrub brush. I can already smell victory. We cross the line to a cheering 3 people who are left, and most importantly, we cross TOGETHER. We have made it before the cut off time in about 8 hours and 15 minutes or so – plenty of time to spare. Three more teams show up after us.

The reality is, after about 9 am we never were in “dead last” because several teams DNF, so just by finishing, we still beat them!

It was a super fun day. We accomplished our goals of finishing and having fun. The team dynamics were good and everyone worked together. No one got mad or upset, and although each of us could have done things differently or been more awesome than we were in some way, it was a solid effort and I would be happy to race with any or all of them again.

Team ODDS AND ENDS – a great start to my adventure racing career.

Well, I took the plunge into Adventure Racing last week. And of course I loved it. What’s not to like? Endurance based multi-sport racing – but without the swim! Hooray! And of course as ridiculous as Triathlon sounds to most people – where a “SPRINT” is 90 minute event, and the “Ironman” is a grueling sub-17 hour event, Adventure Racing is even more ridiculous.

In Adventure Racing a “SPRINT” is a 2-4 hour event; and at the other end of the spectrum the “Expedition” length race is often 3 to 7 days depending on the venue. Sleep? Well the clock doesn’t stop just because you are tired and need a nap. The fastest teams grab about 2-3 hours of sleep per day over the event. These events are often hundreds of miles requiring intense navigational skills (that’s right, there is no set course) because the checkpoints you are required to find are out in the middle of the jungle/wilderness/desert/mountains/lakes or any combination thereof.

So, while it’s true that I am somewhat of an endurance machine and endorphin junkie, I’m certainly not ready for that. But I did my first beginner race – a 25 mile course in San Diego presented by SCARABS (Southern California Adventure RAcing BuddieS). I ran with 3 others, one of whom was a mentor and we chewed up the course in 5 hours. The mentor showed us the ropes and handled the bulk of the navigation, although he talked us through it and allowed us to make some of the decisions. It was mountain biking and running primarily. It was a tremendous learning experience, that’s for sure.

My next race is Feb 17, in two weeks, in Temecula at Vail Lake. I raced at Vail Lake last year for the Xterra West Coast Championship, so I know where it is at any rate. It will be a 8-12 hour race apparently, with kayaking and mountain biking and running – which are the mainstays of adventure racing.

I’m apprehensive in that I have yet to meet the team I am racing with. In fact, none of us have met – sounds like a recipe for disaster. Along the lines of “don’t try new gear/fuel/food on race day” – probably teammates is included in there as well. But when you all live several hours apart, and the race is in two weeks, sometimes it just doesn’t work out. And if I don’t just get out there and race with new people, I may never meet anyone to race with. My sense is that it is not unusual for this to happen, and that it is oftentimes just part of AR. Of course, they are all more experienced than I am, each with several ARs under their belt, if not several seasons – which also makes me apprehensive, what if it goes great and I continually under-perform to their expectations? I guess that’s part of the adventure.

I think that if we all agree on ground rules and responsibilities ahead of time we can survive for half a day. At least we all have similar goals – have fun and finish. If we can accomplish those two things, the day will no doubt be a success!

Stay tuned, I’ll let you know how it turns out….