Pre-race meeting
Several factors were in my favor to make the jump into Adventure Racing so blindly.
First, my two teammates, Brian and Jennie, are US National Champion Adventure Racers.
So they’ve got some experience and a little passion for the sport. When Brian asked me to race, I knew that he was aware of my capabilities--or lack thereof. Technical mountain biking is a skill I have yet to acquire fully. However Brian had met me and therefore knew that I would be excited to dive right in and figure it out during a full day of playing in the woods.
Second, I almost never go about an activity via the well-established route of progression.
What is a better way to learn a sport than under the pressure of competition? For example, as I rode across the finish line of an off-road triathlon this past March (the last time I had been on a mountain bike) I noted that the course had been longer and far more technical than anything I have ever ridden before.
Lastly, I was really excited.
This trait might get pushed into the “naive” category, but I consider it a serious asset as I knew it would stay with me through the majority of the race. The night before I made little snacks with all my favorite high-calorie foods and I filled my camelbak with my best brew of green and ginger tea. I thought of pushing my endurance farther, and I mean way farther, than before and wondered how I got to be so lucky that all the pieces fit together for me to slide into the sport.
Race Day
When we could finally take another look at the gash in my arm, 5 hours after the bike bucked me off, I was ready to look at it without getting sick. At checkpoint seven Jennie cleaned it again while I ate a burrito and listened to Brian tell me about the next leg of our journey. Multitasking being an essential skill when not in motion.
When I crashed, our team had only fallen slightly behind the leads. I had been biking for almost an hour and a half, testing my handling skills on a freshly slick 1000ft climb. By the time we reached our first checkpoint, I had already felt more comfortable on the bike.
I told the race staff that it was a lovely day to learn how to mountain bike as we rode away.
Similarly, during the descent I quickly learned some key points to going fast down a mountain. The hardest one being to just let go more. “Don’t use your brakes” Brian suggested. Fairly simple. Reminds me of Andrew Holcombe saying to just paddle faster. Speed is simple, no matter the media.
However, the deep rut my tire dropped into stopped me before any thought of using the brakes. As I breathed through the concentrated surges of adrenaline my body as ever experienced, Brian and Jennie practiced their field first-aid skills. Liquids, betadine, ace bandage and pain killers revived me enough to walk the remainder of the descent to the bike path.
Admittedly, lying on the ground and yelling through gritted teeth at the pain, I did have the thought that this might be the end of the race. Yet being in a remote setting allows you to postpone such a decision. No one would come to carry me off that mountain. Just like when a difficult situation occurs on the river, most often you have to just pick yourself up, brush yourself off and keep going.
By the time we arrived at the paddling transition area, I could grip my right hand. I didn’t even remember that I had the thought of quitting. Not before the river component of the course.
Somehow the ten miles of class I/II in the big and awkward Double Duckie Kayak gave me an extra spring in my step. I didn’t have to think about going downhill on my bike for at least another 3 hours.
We were machines on that river, and brought that energy with us into the long run and hill climb we completed after. By the time we reached that last checkpoint before the orienteering course the top teams were not far ahead.
I kept eating and drinking, but I also noticed my energy and motivation levels start to fluctuate more rapidly. I went from grudgingly crawling up the side of the mountain to joyfully running down the backside. By the time I got only my bike to make the descent to the finish line, I had lost the ability to balance. My knee had gotten pretty painful by then so running was also awkward.
Problem solved: gallop down the finish line while Brian tows both our bikes behind. Not ideal, but it worked. Unfortunately several teams passed us at this point, dropping us down a few places in the final standings.
The next day I was toast.
Icing a swollen elbow and eating as much as I could, I have never enjoyed rest more.
