Life is and Adventure (Race)!

Two weekends ago Tiffany ran an Adventure Race. That's her new thing. I really admire people who take on new challenges. And there probably isn't another sport out there more challenging than Adventure Racing. I plan to ease into it myself, by entering trail-races and trail-duathalons to start off. I'm shopping for a mountain bike this week. I'm doing my first trail-duathalon on March 11.

This is her race report, in her own words. I like her "If you succeed all the time, then you haven't set your goals high enough" quote. Mainly, because I was the one who said it.

"The Bonk Hard Chill

On February 10 my partner and I headed to the Lake of the Ozarks to participate in an event for which we had trained months. Hours spent running, biking, canoeing, and just getting to know each other were to be put to the test on this weekend. After a particularly stressful week, I was ready for some adventure. We met with our fellow teammates for lunch and caravanned to the race headquarters.


It is fairly common to set up a camp site for an adventure race. However, being the beginning of February in the Midwest, and with cold, windy temperatures predicted for the weekend, a hotel room with a soft bed and hot shower were mandatory for this particular team member! After dropping off a few items at the hotel, we took our "Comandatory gear" to headquarters for the required gear check and registration. Being relatively new to adventure racing and never having competed in any cold-weather adventure races, I was easy prey for two veteran racers and wannabe comedians, who shall remain nameless. They had some fun in telling me about the "starter log" that was part of the required gear, saying that I would have to tote the hefty Duraflame log in my backpack! Having completed the gear check and registration, we were then ready to enjoy the camaraderie of the other racers at the pasta dinner. I always enjoy this aspect of any race. It is an opportunity to talk to fellow racers and have fun, but you know that secretly everyone is sizing up the competition. Racers could talk for hours about the type of socks they chose for this race or what type of nutritional supplements they were packing for the next day; not your general office talk.


The evening culminated in the pre-race meeting; what everyone was anticipating to find out what time the race would start the next day. The race directors quickly got to the meat of the meeting by announcing that the race would start at a very respectable 7:00 a.m. the following day. Wow, anticipating a midnight start, I was really excited at the thought of a full-night's sleep before racing 18 hours. Each team was given a set of maps for the Lake Ozarks State Park and a clue sheet containing the coordinates to be plotted on the maps; and so the fun began!

My partner and I went back to the hotel to begin plotting the coordinates we had been given and to plan our strategy for the next day. There is more to this aspect of adventure racing than just plotting a series of coordinates. Teams strategize on whether to bushwhack through the woods and over hills or to stick to the road or trail; should they follow the creek or take the more obvious route? They must estimate distances not only between checkpoints but for the duration of a specific event; how far the canoe leg is, for example. After a brief pow-wow with our second team, we were all eager to get that full-night's sleep.

Morning arrived after a restless night for me, but I had had many a restless pre-race night before, so I wasn't too concerned. I had breakfast with several other adventure racers in the hotel; each of us choosing what we thought would sustain us for the first hour or so of the race. It was finally time to load up our gear and backpacks and head out for the starting area. We had difficulty finding the starting area, which was a bad omen. However, it was not poor navigation that was to be our nemesis.

I was psyched for this race! Being a strong runner, the whole first half was my kind of race. We were to trek approximately 4 miles or so before getting into the canoe. Then we were to cover about 3.5-4 miles on the water with several additional miles on foot at two extraction points on the canoe leg, before heading out on the bikes.

The race started and everyone took off in the same general direction for a short distance before team strategy took over and teams went their separate ways for the first few check points. My mood was very light at this point. I was in my element. I had an o.k night's sleep, a full stomach, I was running, and I was one of only a handful of women in a mostly male-dominated sport! Life was good at that point!

Things began to unravel for me however, once we got into our canoe. Finding two training partners who owned kayaks and canoes was a stroke of luck for me. We trained for this several times in the months prior to this race, I had not been concerned about this aspect of the race. I felt we had an advantage over many of the other racers. The canoe that we used for this race however was quite different from the one in which we had trained many hours. Even though my partner had brought his own carbon-fiber paddle, we still couldn't find our groove in this vessel. It did not help that the front end of our boat was in the air, nor did the 20-mph wind gusts or the bow-high whitecaps on the water! We could not keep the canoe in a straight line to save our lives! Instead of the familiar "hut," which is canoe-talk for, "paddle on the other side now lackey," I kept waiting to hear, "Prepare to come about!" You would think we were tacking in a regatta instead of making a beeline for the other side of the lake! During the canoe section, our strategy was to paddle to the first extraction point about 3.5 miles away, get out, defrost the frozen nubs at the end of my hands, find three checkpoints, get back in the canoe, struggle, er, I mean paddle another two miles or so to the second extraction point, get out again, defrost said frozen nubs again, find another four checkpoints, get back in the stupid canoe, paddle about a half-mile to another stupid checkpoint, get out, punch the dang card, get back in the damn boat, paddle a final half-mile to the final take out point then carry the damn tub to the rack where the nice men were waiting to take our boat! At one point, my partner and I tried turning the canoe around and paddling stern first thinking we could redistribute the weight thus helping us keep the thing straight—Wrong! It made our vertigo worse! We had to find land and turn the tub around and just bear with it until we were finally, mercifully, done. The "Poseidon Adventure" was over. To add insult to injury, once we dropped the tank, uh, canoe, off, we had to walk about a half- to three-quarter-mile to the checkpoint and transition area, UPHILL!

At the transition area, we were able to replenish our food and water supply and I took full advantage of that. I ate nearly everything in sight, almost completely depleting my entire food supply in those twenty minutes! There was a small luxury in finding a port-a-potty at the transition area also. For those of you reading this who have never done an adventure race before, and for those men who are reading this, let me tell you how difficult it is for a woman who has on three layers of clothing, plus polar fleece gloves, to have to squat in the woods! You try tying the drawstring on your pants with gloves on! Not only is it not easy, it is damn cold on the fanny!

By this point, eight hours after our race had begun, I was feeling the effects of the cold, the exertion, the fatigue, the lack of calories, the stress of the weeks leading up to the race, many things. None of which are good for someone who is looking at another four or five hours of racing ahead of her. This second section of the race was my weakest element—the biking. I had not trained enough in the months prior to feel very comfortable on the single-track trails. Against my better judgment, I went out with my partner for the biking portion of the race. From the beginning, I was uncomfortable, fatigued, and not enjoying the moment. The previous "Poseidon Adventure" on the water had drained me. It did not take long to realize that I did not want to continue at that point. I began walking my bike on many of the smaller hills. I just did not have the strength or the stamina to finish the race. It was a very agonizing moment to tell my partner that I wanted to quit. I knew that he was fully capable of finishing the race but he could not do so without me. I would force him to withdraw as well. He maintained a sporting attitude about the decision however and even decided to tow me on the bike on the way back to the transition area. There were many factors contributing to my falling apart, some had nothing at all to do with the race. Hey, life happens in between races ya know. Let's just suffice it to say that I bonked. Hard. But as a few good friends told me, "If you always succeed, then you haven't set your goals high enough." I like that.

It was a tough ride home that night. Lots of emotions were going through my head. What would people think of me for dropping out? What did my partner think? Would I do this again? What could I have done differently? So many thoughts. In the scheme of life though, this was one little race, one bump in the road. I will be back to try another long race; only next time, I won't have so much other stuff going on at the same time!

I commend Jason and Laura Elsenratt, race directors of Bonk Hard Racing, for putting on an excellent race. The time, energy, and thought it takes to put on this kind of race is immense. Kudos to them and the volunteers that helped in the frigid temperatures this February weekend!

Live Well, Laugh Often! "

Tune in tomorrow. I'll have Dan Murphy's race report from the Myrtle Beach Marathon.