the long awaited race report...
Tales of my first adventure race -- Big Blue 24 Santa Monica Mountains Race Report
The short version: It rocked for 25:15 hours, for a finish of 25:45.
The long version (yes, very long):
I come from a running, then a tri background. Erich works at REI and comes from a running and climbing and hiking background. I met him at the climbing gym. He had on a running race t-shirt, so I asked if he had done it. We got talking about races, and he mentioned having done some tris and wanting to do more. Since I knew of tris in the area, and he wanted to get into it, we exchanged email addresses. However, nothing really came of it as the tri I had mentioned was a weekend when he was going to be gone. Then May 25th I went to an REI adventure racing clinic in Rancho Cucamonga that was given by Maja, who was with the Big Blue group (thanks erinpie for getting me to go!). Much of the info I knew, but it definitely made me want to do another! I had done one sprint one before, but it hadn't involved orienteering and had been in inflatable kayaks. And guess who walked in at the end? Erich... and we talked for a minute and he said we should try one of the Big Blue races. I agreed, but mentioned I don't have a mountain bike. He said he could find bikes, so I said I was interested. And two weeks later... there were were. Getting ready for our first adventure race. And what did we, as newbies, pick? A 2-4 hour sprint? A 6-12 hour? Nope. We were going to just jump in without testing the temperature of the water: the Big Blue 24 Santa Monica.
The weekend started Wednesday night as I packed for the first time. Got my gear together, a few hours of sleep, and off to work Thursday. Then Thursday night got to pack again, this time with my teammate, so that we could be sure we have everything and put it into the truck. We put cage pedals onto the bike I'd be using, and put all our required gear into a single plastic bin. The kayak and one bike was added on top of the truck, and the second bike inside, along with 4 bins of gear-junk and our paddles and camping gear. It was another night of only a few hours of sleep, and we met up again and drove out to Leo Carrillo State Beach in Malibu.
At the race site, got checked in, managed to find people with 2 extra chem lights (the only mandatory gear we were missing as REI had only had one pack when we went), and did our gear check in -- once again unpacking and packing bins (luckily we were smart Thursday night and had put all mandatory gear into one bin, so it was all that we had to take to the gear check). From there it was off to the certifications: Erich did the navigational check in, and the kayak entry and exit were a breeze -- the waves were nothing compared to last weekend's practice! The race directory Nick (I forget his last name) did our check in and kayak cert. My new hero, and an awesome guy. More about this later in this report! All our qualifications filled, we got to pick up a race info sheet telling us what we would need to pack in what bins.
Then it was time to -- yes, you guessed it -- pack again! From the race sheet, we found out that trekking gear and only trekking gear would go into the bins. And that the gear of one teammate would not go in. Huh -- our first hint of the day to come -- there would be sections that both people wouldn't do. From that info sheet, we learned that the race would involve the following order and events:
Then there was a Q&A section with Robyn Benincasa. She had some fun stories to tell, shared adventure racing history, and gave little tips.
After an event BBQ, there was then the race meeting. We got our race booklets and general info and rules. Wow... were we in for quite a day! First surprise: there was a drop point by PC1. It would be a buoy somewhere outside the surf-line (we were given coordinates to it). There, one person would have to go to shore for the first trekking section while the other teammate(s) (if any -- teams were 1 - 4 people) would continue kayaking to PC3 where the team would be reunited. This meant individual kayakers would just go into the shore. However, 2+ person kayaks would just drop a person at the buoy. Looks like there will be some ocean swimming for one of us! We learned that TA4 would be a true transition where we would set up our bikes and anything else we wanted there (and could leave there until after the race). From PC4 to PC5 would be mostly road biking. PC5, PC6, and PC9 were all the same spot. PC5a and PC5c would be different after dark, and instead of "something" there would be a time penalty (so something dangerous after dark... hmmm). From PC6 through PC9 would be all trail biking (about 13 miles) and then we'd have a final 13 miles on roads. We found out that from PC9 to PC10 we'd have to carry everything except left over food and water from your bins, and that at PC10 you could only leave your bike and anything attached like lights and bike bags. Suddenly the whole crowd was talking of getting rid of all that is extra in their bins... until this was cleared up to mean all mandatory trekking, biking, team, and individual gear. We also learned the cutoff times for PC6/TA3, PC9/TA4, and PC10, which would start to matter to us -- a lot -- come race day.
We made a few last minute changes to the bins and turned them in right at 5:30. Then we sat down and started plotting. We both placed some of the points onto our map, double checking each other. We looked at the areas, figuring out some trail options and looking at pre- and post-dark strategies for the points that would change, as we figured we'd be borderline on making it in daylight. Some points seemed a bit odd, but other teams had the same questions. Like why checkpoint A changed if it was night or day and when it seemed to be in the middle of nowhere and just next to the old point. So even though we got the points much earlier than we expect, there were definitely some unanswered questions as we climbed into the tent and got what would be our last sleep before a long, long day. Oh, and we learned we were sunburned. Next time we have to remember sunscreen is not just for race day!
We finished packing in the morning, which included figuring out how I would swim to shore with my pack and with running shoes and the map and passport and not have it all so wet that I'd get horrible blisters, or the map would be blurred, or the pack extra heavy. Yet at the same time, it had to be something I could swim some unknown distance with. I got to do the first roughly 5 mile trekking part for a few reasons: although we both wanted to, and Erich is a faster runner, but also a stronger kayaker. Having never been in a kayak alone, I didn't want to learn to do surf entries in the race, since I'd never practiced really guiding and steering the kayak, as that was Erich's job in the back of the boat. My kayaking job was power, setting cadence, and trusting when he picked to launch. Also, having done some relay races and lots of distance, we knew my legs would be able to take the run and still be ok for more miles later. Plus, I've done some ocean swimming practice, including exiting the water. We figured out a system -- put my gear in a big dry bag, including my extra running shoes to keep a pair definitely dry for all the biking and running later, and have a rope so I could attach it to my waist and it would trail me through the water.
Race time came about fairly quickly... if you think mass tri swim starts are crazy check out a mass kayak start in the ocean! Kayakers of all levels battling waves, capsizing, and flying back towards shore -- sometimes taking out an unaware kayaker entering behind them! And at the same time watching out for a seal (or maybe sea lion, I'm not sure) that was on the beach in the edge of the surf. Erich and I made it out relatively painlessly, making sure we watched the surf for a bit and planned our timing (which Nick had given us some tips on at the certifications the day before). Sure, one wave hit on me as we were waiting, and we had to go through one wave on the way out, but we had plenty of power and did just fine going through it. Around the large kelp beds, a bit out to sea, and paddled our way north along the coast. There was a decent amount of spray, and I probably would have been glad for waterproof pants during parts, but we made it to the buoy. I left my water shoes, jumped into the water and unclipped the pack.
In the end, I held the bag with my right arm on the way to shore. The rope was too tricky in the water. Turns out all those one-arm swimming drills can be really useful in a race. I'm glad I did -- the dry bag was very buoyant and made it easier to get a breath in waves, and I could trust it to know what way was up as some fairly large waves pounded down on me. In fact, the waves were so strong they broke the back of the helmet of a guy coming in around when I did! But I made it to the beach, despite the feeling that swimming as hard as I could was getting me no where, and having to rely on waves to help me make it in. I somehow made it up the rocky bank, as the 2 hours of paddling had left my legs fairly cold and with less circulation. Opening the dry bag was another tricky bit with cold hands (I now love my paddling gloves -- I'm not sure what I would have done with out them) but I managed. Dumped out the pack, got the passport signed for PC1, pulled socks and running shoes on over wet and sandy feet (wiped as well as I could with my cloth race bib), got the dry bag attached to my pack, and was off, fastening the pack and checking the map. I ended up with another runner, and that was useful since it was a bit hard for me to navigate trails, and we helped each other out. A third guy was also with us for a bit, and I was glad they were both there when we came across a huge rattle snake on the trail! I'd of course seen 'em before, but not in my path when trying to go fast. One guy threw rocks at it, and it went to just off the trail. He ran on, and the other guy also made it safely past. Talk about motivation to run fast! I quickly put some distance between me and that point. Made it all the way up to PC2 without any other major issues. Passport signed, and down the hill to PC3. Took one extra stretch of trail (that looped back onto the on we wanted, adding about 200-300 yards) because it looked to be right on the map (both myself and another guy chose it after consulting maps, while a few other runners went past it without checking). Then to a campground, and some campers directed me to the exit. However, a ranger saw me and told me where the bridge was -- which was where I needed to cross under PCH. I never would have guessed the beach was on the other side... as the waves crashed against it, you couldn't tell there was beach to the left and it looked to just go into the ocean. But at the end of the beach was PC3, Erich, and the kayak.
Back into the boat, one wave stole Erich's pack but we caught it and were off -- without capsizing like about 80% of teams did! We had seen this point as we paddled out to the drop location, and knew it took about 1.5 hours to get to. However, now we had the waves helping us and more sunshine, and it was a much drier, warmer, and easier paddle. Once reunited and out on the water, I learned how getting from the drop location to PC3 had gone for Erich. He was fine for the paddling part, but came across some other kayakers not so lucky. Still on their way to the drop, their sit on top kayak was flooded and they were fairly stuck. Erich helped as he could, which ended up being going farther out to sea a few hundred yards and flagging down one of the aid boats to help them. Then he headed into shore, capsizing and drinking some ocean, but not losing his pack, which was in garbage bags and duct taped to the small dry bag. Learned for next time: have more large dry bags, and tie everything down!).
I had been careful to drink some Cytomax and get in some gel during the run. Erich, however, had watched the ocean and picked the perfect launch timing, but had only taken in a little water. As a result, I paddled alone for short stretches while he puked salt water back into the ocean. He doesn't get sick easily, but we think the combo of salt water and waves were the culprits. For next time: better nutrition even if just waiting.
Made it to PC4/TA1 in about an hour (which turned out to be the same as the start and finish). Made it part way into the shore, lost the wave we were on, and then another broke over us. I watch it land on the dry bag of my pack tied down in front of me, watched that end drop deep into the ocean, and go ready to flip. We caught my water shoes (I just wore the running ones for the final paddle), both paddles, and Erich's pack, so still lost nothing. Again a lesson was learned: practice what you will do race day (ie what gear where and how it changes the balance of the kayak), and keep paddling hard even if you catch a wave or you just sit at the breaking point and will get slammed.
The kayak, now with all our gear and plenty of water, was nice and heavy as we carried it up the beach and into the parking lot area where we bid it farewell and headed into TA1. There we took our time. Rinsed off salt water, had some food. Checked that we had the gear needed for biking. Put sand-free and dryish feet into dry socks and shoes. Refilled my water. All ready, about 45 min or so later, we set off on the bikes. Crossed under the freeway, heading to Mulholland Drive for about 17 miles. A mile in, we needed to stop and adjust my seat and the straps on both our pedals. We figured out using a tow rope about 2 miles out. Although I managed to keep it loose much of the ride, I think mentally it was a huge help. Just knowing it was there and that Erich was helping gave me more confidence that I could actually do the climbing. And yes, it was some nice climbing. We leapfrogged back and forth with one team, saw another, but were mostly on our own. Then a nice downhill section -- well, somewhat nice. It was long and fast, but we knew we'd also have to climb it once we pasted PC9. Turned onto a side street, as we could see there should be some way into the park land from that community. Found the street, and learned it was private and gated. A local biked out the gate though, and was able to direct us to a public access point for the park we were looking for. Through the gate, and we were onto a dirt road, which I was very scared on, almost to the point of stress asthma. I let a team or two behind us pass, and walked the bike. This made me more and more nervous about the night of biking I knew was to come. But I just made myself forget about that and focus on the trekking ahead. Only a little bit down the dirt section and we found PC5.
Here we had a faster transition -- dropped bikes, refilled fluids and food, grabbed a snack, changed shoes, and were off. We easily made it to PC5d around 6:30, and decided to attempt the back way to PC5c. It was a Dark Zone (ie closed) after, so we thought, 9pm. We got to the end of the trail, and found the creek it looked like we would be able to follow up to PC5c. However, we made our major navigational mistake at this point: instead of pulling out the compass and just doing a general direction check (which I didn't even think of) Erich picked our direction based on only the look of the terrain. Ooops! We couldn't see the side of the mountains next to us, and chose a different two peaks to head for! So we went down into the correct creek, but took it the wrong direction. For 1.5 hours we climbed through poison oak, over rocks, slipped into the stream, through brush after brush after brush, up a dry stream bed, back down it, up to and then away from a beehive, and more traipsing through brush. This was our low point. Having never done anything off trail, and having the built in feeling that it was wrong to be going through plants like that, and that it was dangerous, I got a bit (or maybe more than a bit) bitchy. I was also frustrated... felt like I was just following along, and that Erich would have been faster alone. Up to that point, I had felt we were both contributing well. But now, I had no idea where we were or what was going on. I was tired of getting poked and stabbed and grabbed by brush, and I was tired. I was probably also a bit low on liquids and calories, and I was definitely getting a bit grumpy. Erich was getting annoyed with that, and was being less patient when I asked questions about why we went which way, or wanted to see where we were on the map. I finally broke down. Some tears were shed, and I just told him I just want to know what is going on, and have some part in decisions. That I was not there just to follow because he could read maps and terrain better, but also to learn how to read maps and terrain myself. He apologized, and from then on we both looked at the path when there appeared to be two ways to get somewhere. It was better, but I was still not in a great place. He was more patient from then on out, and I think glad to know I did want to help. I think it was a good reminder to both of us that to have fun, and not worry about how competitive we were. Our ease with the first part of the race had woken a bit of our competitive sides, and this brought us back to our pre-race goals. The car ride home we made more sense of this, but I will get to that at its time.
Finally we found a slope and went up so that Erich could get a better sighting of the land. I ate some sandwich, and drank some, and felt a bit better. From this slope we saw our error, and proceeded to head back, having decided to just go back to PC5d and then take the trail route to PC5c. Here I picked being wet over being poked by more stuff, so we just went along the creek, getting wet instead of trying to find ways around rock-free sections. This probably did help with not getting tons of poison oak, and did make it an easier trip. However, we overshot PC5d along the creek (it was much faster getting back) and were already half way to PC5c, so kept going. At this point it was getting dark (around 8:30) and so headlamps were on and it was a bit tricker to see. Then there were other headlamps ahead! A team going from PC5c to PC5d! They said they'd been going for a while, and that it was a nasty, if not impossible, trek in the dark. They also corrected us -- it was a closed section from 7 on, not 9. So we headed back to where we could find the trail back to PC5d, helping them find it as well since there were little to no clues from in the creek and dark. About 2.5 hours after first finding it, we again passed PC5d, and continued on trails to PCs 5b, 5c, and then 5a. Here of course we learned a lot... mainly, take the 3 seconds to orientate yourself with the terrain and to double check your directions and planned path, but maybe more importantly also to be forgiving, understanding, tough, and to communicate.
It was mostly hiking, and it was not a high energy point. Much of it was runnable, especially in light, but it was dark and I was still not completely back to happy and we ended up walking much of it. We came across teams that we had been with at PC5 who were heading back, done with all the checkpoints, and that again was a reminder of our mistake. But we got the rest of the points fairly uneventfully. One trail that looked to go through didn't and cost us about a mile, and we got a 30 minute penalty for getting to PC5c after dark and missing the challenge there (turns out it was a swim of some kind) but the rest was just hiking along, mostly without talking, and some talking to other teams we came across. This made me appreciate my teammate more and got me out of the funk I was in -- there were teams where one person was just pushing, almost to the point of leaving other members. There were teams smiling, and who remembered us from earlier. There was the team Erich had helped in the kayaks. It reminded me how lucky I was to have the teammate I did, and that every team has its issues, and I got back to trying to be cheerful and happy, and did a decent job of it, and felt much better. During this section we also figured out that letting me play a bigger role in setting the pace was a good idea, as I would push it at a pace I felt I could hold, as opposed to trying to keep up and then feeling bad asking Erich to slow down a bit. This definitely helped our morale.However, I was still tempted to give up after all that, and in my head went back and forth through how bad it would be to stop at that point, and how cold and tired I was.
But we hit the transition area PC6, and some teams were at it as PC9. One was a team with Lance on it, a guy who had been very helpful in the parking lot, and who gave us some more tips. He said I looked tired, to which I answered just cold, and got on changing to drier and warmer clothes, and he said we'd warm up soon with the bike climb to come. And he seemed to know we could do it, and so I regained more of my determination, got ready, and when Erich even asked if I was ok, and to let him know if he was pushing me past what I was comfortable with, I again believed that a tough day should never end a race, and that only missing a cutoff and being forced to stop was a reason to give up. So still tired, but warmer and more confident, we picked up the bikes and headed out for 13 miles of trails, and the part of the race I feared the most coming into it. If that little dirt road to transition scared me, how much worse would big downhills be in the dark?? But I had to try it.
About an hour after reaching PC6 we finally headed out, lights in place and ready to ride and walk with out bikes. During Bulldog Road, I realized I had ran that trail before... that it was the trail (and it turned out we did almost the exact same course but with bikes) from the 14 mile trail race I did in May. I was glad I didn't notice this ahead of time, as that was one of the hardest (if not the hardest) courses I'd ever ran. By the time I really realized it, it was good cause I believed I could walk it. And we figured out a system to keep us closer to the same pace -- Erich was able to walk both bikes easily, which helped me a ton! We made it up to PC7, the big climb conquered. The aid station people were awesome -- told us how great we looked, that we could do it. Got me in a happy, excited mood again. Although we learned that a team in front of us had finished that bike loop and just dropped out from exhaustion (ie hit PC9 and fell asleep immediately) and that the solo team behind us had dropped out after seeing Bulldog, leaving us in last place. Whatever, I thought. Last place is the team that had a tough day and still kept going. 10-15 teams had dropped out, and now I was determined not to. Yes, there are physical reasons that you should drop out as well, but no, I wasn't having any of them. I just needed to get past the mental and do it. And it was a good thing -- all that support and realization made me just go for it on the downhills on the bike from PC7 to PC8. Sure, we missed one turnoff and had to hike back up about half a mile, and there was a ton of fog making it hard to see, but by the end, I was much more confident. I was picking my own paths instead of hoping to see which way Erich picked on the dirt road, and was having fun with making it over sections that would scare me once I thought about it (after I crossed them). I started having a great time and feeling like this was something I could really do. So when we got almost to PC8, I wanted to finish this thing. I knew we could. We ran into Nick and another volunteer right outside the checkpoint, and they told us there was just over an hour to get to the next point before the cutoff. Most teams made it in about 50 minutes. They laughed at some of my comments about the bike section, and were amazed to learn it was one of my first few times on a mountain bike, and were impressed. Again, this built the confidence that we could indeed finish this.
PC8 was also staffed with great volunteers with red vines and smiles, but we hurried through, intent on no missing the cut off. Between PC7 and PC8 we had moved the map to my bike, as it was trails I was somewhat familiar with and it was a fairly straight forward section directionally and would give me practice at following where I was along a map. I knew our turnoffs to get back to the trail to PC9 and easily found them. At one point we crossed a bridge, and almost went down a very wrong trail, but it really felt wrong to me, and then a guy showed up and helped us with the right one. In fact, he told us he had to head back to PC9, and then trailed us in, and we made it at about 7:55 -- we could continue! We had definitely found our sense of fun out there on those trails, especially me. And Erich was impressed with how well I just pushed it and went for it over sections of that last stretch. And we were rewarded with another break at PC9. Someone asked me to at least look a little tired... to which I answered "but it's morning." And I really wasn't that tired. Sure, I had less power in my legs, but I was smiling, and felt great. More awesome support and cheers, more water, more Cytomax, a banana, and another sandwich into the side pouch of my pack, and we were back at it.
Here is where Nick amazed me. Yes, as race director he has to do a final sweep of the course. But he didn't have to stay with us in his car all they way to the checkpoint, playing awesome, inspirational music he found all on the radio (we never heard a single commercial or un-motivational song) and talking to us -- remember bits about our check in, asking about our history, complimenting our determination, and biking, and pure strength in not giving up. Every time it started getting tough, I just heard the words of the songs, and his pride in our race, and smiled and felt great, like we were winning. He gave us one of the best compliment I've ever received. He told us how he has done a number of Eco-Challenges and has done Raid Gauloises, and that any day he would want to be on a team with us. That we were showing the spirit and heart and drive and enthusiasm and teamwork that AR is all about. And we made it, with his help but as a team... pounding up the hills, tow rope in action, and flying down them. We almost didn't have to talk to get the rope hand-offs. We just knew. We were completely a team, and made it to PC10 feeling energized and ready to go. The lady who gave the talk at REI, Maja, was there, and we told her we decided to do that race after her talk. And then Nick joined us for most of the final trek down the hill (until we passed another team and he stuck with and motivated them). He gave little patient tips to improve our navigation, and was impressed with how we worked as a team. It was a bit stressful though -- of course he knew right where to go and would be able to make our decisions in a heartbeat, but I just stayed relaxed, and helped by double checking at each split in the trail (as I was leading and Erich guiding). Soon we were ready to fly, and we came to a downhill, and were off. We spotted another team (they had left 10 minutes ahead of us, but one teammate was very sick so were walking it) and we knew we could catch them. In the last mile and a half, we did. But I didn't care... I was happy to be finishing, and content with how much progress we had made as a team. I don't know when I last ran a trail as confidently or well as I did the last 2 to 2.5 miles to the finish. It felt awesome, and Erich was right behind me supporting me with each step, and I could feel our team energy flowing. Back into the park, across the line 25:15 hours later, smiling and feeling sore feet but fresh and energized. That accomplishment feeling is great. Yup, I'm still addicted to it.
We celebrated with some food and drinks and chatter at the finish -- races are all about the people and experiences for me, not the times and the places. This race was a good reminder of the relative importance of those parts for me. Maja was there, and gave me a hug, telling me how proud she was that her talk helped inspire us, and there looked to be tears in her eyes. She said someone had said she didn't have the experience to give the talk, and we helped her feel successful with it. I was glad I had told her we had been there... I had almost not mentioned it, figuring she had given talks many times and never remembered who went. We also talked with teams, and one guy congratulated us, and mentioned how at least we weren't last (his team was, and we had mentioned being able to pass another team -- ie his -- near the end). And I told him how it just meant that his team had a really tough day but kept going despite it all (there was currently an ambulance checking over one of his teammates who was fairly sick). Yes, I was proud to have passed another team, to have had that last little bit in us. But I would have been just as happy to finish last. Either way, each time had its little issues or maybe even a perfect day -- but I think our race was perfect for us. What we needed to become a stronger team, and stronger people.
And the race was done. We gathered up gear, just throwing it into whatever bin was nearby. The kayak was put back on the truck, We got somewhat rinsed off, and started off. We picked up the bikes, and continued home. Erich wanted to rest first, but I said we could take turns driving and talk to keep each other awake -- I just wanted to get home. We talked about the race. I apologized for being grumpy and unhappy during and for a bit after the off-trail adventure, and we talked about why. About different backgrounds, and how going really into nature like that just scares me. That I'd never camped (until with him the weekend before) and had never gone off a trail. That some part of me was worried we were going to get really lost and not find our way back. We talked about what we did really well, and how we were happy with our teamwork by the end. And we talked about wanting to do another, but wanting to really practice for it. His thing was also that we needed to try and test all gear beforehand next time. We were lucky that lights and such ended up working out as well as they did. We also talked about our place, and how I was glad our easy day didn't continue after the kayak and first bike section. We had no flats, and only one major and a few minor navigational issues. Without them, our first race would have been too easy, and would have given less of a sense of accomplishment. It would also have made me think differently of adventure racing: that it was more like off-road tris where you know where to go and what to expect. This made me want to do it again. It was hard. It really made me push myself, and learn about myself and about Erich and I as a team.
That worked for a while -- like down PCH, through a sandwich (NOT PB & honey) and to the 10 Freeway. But I was riding, and asking Erich questions to keep us talking and awake, and he was giving short, single word answers, and I soon gave up. We were both too tired and worn out for staying awake chatter. He ended up calling someone and was on the phone, and I fell asleep, figuring that would keep him up. We talked little bits on and off the rest of the way, but I dozed on and off and he was on the phone for most of it.
We made it home, and sorted out gear, and I packed up my car and headed to Holly's for a shower and a nap. I wanted the gunk off more than anything! And some sleep before the 45 minute drive home wouldn't be a bad idea, either. And how good that shower felt! I found a leaf and small twigs in my hair, and it took about 3 times of conditioning my hair to get the tangles starting to come out. And I scrubbed off what little sunscreen was left, and sap, and plenty of dirt and grime. I learned that next time wash *all* the sand out of my bike shorts, and to apply more random BodyGlide, as there was plenty of chaffing in areas usually fine. I got out of the shower cleaner, content, and relaxed. Clean clothes felt great, and I ate and read and fell asleep, overall content with the day and its lessons and adventures.
Today I'm not really all that sore, but am definitely tired. My feet are a little sore -- even one of my blisters has a blister. But I'm planning for the next race. I wonder if I'll do the next in the Big Blude series -- Erich will be out of town. Perhaps with a different partner, or maybe I'll volunteer at it.
The short version: It rocked for 25:15 hours, for a finish of 25:45.
The long version (yes, very long):
I come from a running, then a tri background. Erich works at REI and comes from a running and climbing and hiking background. I met him at the climbing gym. He had on a running race t-shirt, so I asked if he had done it. We got talking about races, and he mentioned having done some tris and wanting to do more. Since I knew of tris in the area, and he wanted to get into it, we exchanged email addresses. However, nothing really came of it as the tri I had mentioned was a weekend when he was going to be gone. Then May 25th I went to an REI adventure racing clinic in Rancho Cucamonga that was given by Maja, who was with the Big Blue group (thanks erinpie for getting me to go!). Much of the info I knew, but it definitely made me want to do another! I had done one sprint one before, but it hadn't involved orienteering and had been in inflatable kayaks. And guess who walked in at the end? Erich... and we talked for a minute and he said we should try one of the Big Blue races. I agreed, but mentioned I don't have a mountain bike. He said he could find bikes, so I said I was interested. And two weeks later... there were were. Getting ready for our first adventure race. And what did we, as newbies, pick? A 2-4 hour sprint? A 6-12 hour? Nope. We were going to just jump in without testing the temperature of the water: the Big Blue 24 Santa Monica.
The weekend started Wednesday night as I packed for the first time. Got my gear together, a few hours of sleep, and off to work Thursday. Then Thursday night got to pack again, this time with my teammate, so that we could be sure we have everything and put it into the truck. We put cage pedals onto the bike I'd be using, and put all our required gear into a single plastic bin. The kayak and one bike was added on top of the truck, and the second bike inside, along with 4 bins of gear-junk and our paddles and camping gear. It was another night of only a few hours of sleep, and we met up again and drove out to Leo Carrillo State Beach in Malibu.
At the race site, got checked in, managed to find people with 2 extra chem lights (the only mandatory gear we were missing as REI had only had one pack when we went), and did our gear check in -- once again unpacking and packing bins (luckily we were smart Thursday night and had put all mandatory gear into one bin, so it was all that we had to take to the gear check). From there it was off to the certifications: Erich did the navigational check in, and the kayak entry and exit were a breeze -- the waves were nothing compared to last weekend's practice! The race directory Nick (I forget his last name) did our check in and kayak cert. My new hero, and an awesome guy. More about this later in this report! All our qualifications filled, we got to pick up a race info sheet telling us what we would need to pack in what bins.
Then it was time to -- yes, you guessed it -- pack again! From the race sheet, we found out that trekking gear and only trekking gear would go into the bins. And that the gear of one teammate would not go in. Huh -- our first hint of the day to come -- there would be sections that both people wouldn't do. From that info sheet, we learned that the race would involve the following order and events:
- about 5 miles of kayaking to PC1 (ie passport control, or a check in point)
- about 5 miles trekking (apparently just one teammate, with PC2, and ending at PC3)
- about 5 miles kayaking to PC4 (also known as Transition Area (aka TA) 1)
- about 17 miles mountain biking to PC5/TA2
- about 8 miles of trekking (with PCs 5a, 5b, 5c, and 5d, ending at PC6/TA3)
- about 26 miles of mountain biking (with PC7, PC8, PC9/TA4, and PC10)
- about 5 miles of trekking (ending with PC11 and the finish)
Then there was a Q&A section with Robyn Benincasa. She had some fun stories to tell, shared adventure racing history, and gave little tips.
After an event BBQ, there was then the race meeting. We got our race booklets and general info and rules. Wow... were we in for quite a day! First surprise: there was a drop point by PC1. It would be a buoy somewhere outside the surf-line (we were given coordinates to it). There, one person would have to go to shore for the first trekking section while the other teammate(s) (if any -- teams were 1 - 4 people) would continue kayaking to PC3 where the team would be reunited. This meant individual kayakers would just go into the shore. However, 2+ person kayaks would just drop a person at the buoy. Looks like there will be some ocean swimming for one of us! We learned that TA4 would be a true transition where we would set up our bikes and anything else we wanted there (and could leave there until after the race). From PC4 to PC5 would be mostly road biking. PC5, PC6, and PC9 were all the same spot. PC5a and PC5c would be different after dark, and instead of "something" there would be a time penalty (so something dangerous after dark... hmmm). From PC6 through PC9 would be all trail biking (about 13 miles) and then we'd have a final 13 miles on roads. We found out that from PC9 to PC10 we'd have to carry everything except left over food and water from your bins, and that at PC10 you could only leave your bike and anything attached like lights and bike bags. Suddenly the whole crowd was talking of getting rid of all that is extra in their bins... until this was cleared up to mean all mandatory trekking, biking, team, and individual gear. We also learned the cutoff times for PC6/TA3, PC9/TA4, and PC10, which would start to matter to us -- a lot -- come race day.
We made a few last minute changes to the bins and turned them in right at 5:30. Then we sat down and started plotting. We both placed some of the points onto our map, double checking each other. We looked at the areas, figuring out some trail options and looking at pre- and post-dark strategies for the points that would change, as we figured we'd be borderline on making it in daylight. Some points seemed a bit odd, but other teams had the same questions. Like why checkpoint A changed if it was night or day and when it seemed to be in the middle of nowhere and just next to the old point. So even though we got the points much earlier than we expect, there were definitely some unanswered questions as we climbed into the tent and got what would be our last sleep before a long, long day. Oh, and we learned we were sunburned. Next time we have to remember sunscreen is not just for race day!
We finished packing in the morning, which included figuring out how I would swim to shore with my pack and with running shoes and the map and passport and not have it all so wet that I'd get horrible blisters, or the map would be blurred, or the pack extra heavy. Yet at the same time, it had to be something I could swim some unknown distance with. I got to do the first roughly 5 mile trekking part for a few reasons: although we both wanted to, and Erich is a faster runner, but also a stronger kayaker. Having never been in a kayak alone, I didn't want to learn to do surf entries in the race, since I'd never practiced really guiding and steering the kayak, as that was Erich's job in the back of the boat. My kayaking job was power, setting cadence, and trusting when he picked to launch. Also, having done some relay races and lots of distance, we knew my legs would be able to take the run and still be ok for more miles later. Plus, I've done some ocean swimming practice, including exiting the water. We figured out a system -- put my gear in a big dry bag, including my extra running shoes to keep a pair definitely dry for all the biking and running later, and have a rope so I could attach it to my waist and it would trail me through the water.
Race time came about fairly quickly... if you think mass tri swim starts are crazy check out a mass kayak start in the ocean! Kayakers of all levels battling waves, capsizing, and flying back towards shore -- sometimes taking out an unaware kayaker entering behind them! And at the same time watching out for a seal (or maybe sea lion, I'm not sure) that was on the beach in the edge of the surf. Erich and I made it out relatively painlessly, making sure we watched the surf for a bit and planned our timing (which Nick had given us some tips on at the certifications the day before). Sure, one wave hit on me as we were waiting, and we had to go through one wave on the way out, but we had plenty of power and did just fine going through it. Around the large kelp beds, a bit out to sea, and paddled our way north along the coast. There was a decent amount of spray, and I probably would have been glad for waterproof pants during parts, but we made it to the buoy. I left my water shoes, jumped into the water and unclipped the pack.
In the end, I held the bag with my right arm on the way to shore. The rope was too tricky in the water. Turns out all those one-arm swimming drills can be really useful in a race. I'm glad I did -- the dry bag was very buoyant and made it easier to get a breath in waves, and I could trust it to know what way was up as some fairly large waves pounded down on me. In fact, the waves were so strong they broke the back of the helmet of a guy coming in around when I did! But I made it to the beach, despite the feeling that swimming as hard as I could was getting me no where, and having to rely on waves to help me make it in. I somehow made it up the rocky bank, as the 2 hours of paddling had left my legs fairly cold and with less circulation. Opening the dry bag was another tricky bit with cold hands (I now love my paddling gloves -- I'm not sure what I would have done with out them) but I managed. Dumped out the pack, got the passport signed for PC1, pulled socks and running shoes on over wet and sandy feet (wiped as well as I could with my cloth race bib), got the dry bag attached to my pack, and was off, fastening the pack and checking the map. I ended up with another runner, and that was useful since it was a bit hard for me to navigate trails, and we helped each other out. A third guy was also with us for a bit, and I was glad they were both there when we came across a huge rattle snake on the trail! I'd of course seen 'em before, but not in my path when trying to go fast. One guy threw rocks at it, and it went to just off the trail. He ran on, and the other guy also made it safely past. Talk about motivation to run fast! I quickly put some distance between me and that point. Made it all the way up to PC2 without any other major issues. Passport signed, and down the hill to PC3. Took one extra stretch of trail (that looped back onto the on we wanted, adding about 200-300 yards) because it looked to be right on the map (both myself and another guy chose it after consulting maps, while a few other runners went past it without checking). Then to a campground, and some campers directed me to the exit. However, a ranger saw me and told me where the bridge was -- which was where I needed to cross under PCH. I never would have guessed the beach was on the other side... as the waves crashed against it, you couldn't tell there was beach to the left and it looked to just go into the ocean. But at the end of the beach was PC3, Erich, and the kayak.
Back into the boat, one wave stole Erich's pack but we caught it and were off -- without capsizing like about 80% of teams did! We had seen this point as we paddled out to the drop location, and knew it took about 1.5 hours to get to. However, now we had the waves helping us and more sunshine, and it was a much drier, warmer, and easier paddle. Once reunited and out on the water, I learned how getting from the drop location to PC3 had gone for Erich. He was fine for the paddling part, but came across some other kayakers not so lucky. Still on their way to the drop, their sit on top kayak was flooded and they were fairly stuck. Erich helped as he could, which ended up being going farther out to sea a few hundred yards and flagging down one of the aid boats to help them. Then he headed into shore, capsizing and drinking some ocean, but not losing his pack, which was in garbage bags and duct taped to the small dry bag. Learned for next time: have more large dry bags, and tie everything down!).
I had been careful to drink some Cytomax and get in some gel during the run. Erich, however, had watched the ocean and picked the perfect launch timing, but had only taken in a little water. As a result, I paddled alone for short stretches while he puked salt water back into the ocean. He doesn't get sick easily, but we think the combo of salt water and waves were the culprits. For next time: better nutrition even if just waiting.
Made it to PC4/TA1 in about an hour (which turned out to be the same as the start and finish). Made it part way into the shore, lost the wave we were on, and then another broke over us. I watch it land on the dry bag of my pack tied down in front of me, watched that end drop deep into the ocean, and go ready to flip. We caught my water shoes (I just wore the running ones for the final paddle), both paddles, and Erich's pack, so still lost nothing. Again a lesson was learned: practice what you will do race day (ie what gear where and how it changes the balance of the kayak), and keep paddling hard even if you catch a wave or you just sit at the breaking point and will get slammed.
The kayak, now with all our gear and plenty of water, was nice and heavy as we carried it up the beach and into the parking lot area where we bid it farewell and headed into TA1. There we took our time. Rinsed off salt water, had some food. Checked that we had the gear needed for biking. Put sand-free and dryish feet into dry socks and shoes. Refilled my water. All ready, about 45 min or so later, we set off on the bikes. Crossed under the freeway, heading to Mulholland Drive for about 17 miles. A mile in, we needed to stop and adjust my seat and the straps on both our pedals. We figured out using a tow rope about 2 miles out. Although I managed to keep it loose much of the ride, I think mentally it was a huge help. Just knowing it was there and that Erich was helping gave me more confidence that I could actually do the climbing. And yes, it was some nice climbing. We leapfrogged back and forth with one team, saw another, but were mostly on our own. Then a nice downhill section -- well, somewhat nice. It was long and fast, but we knew we'd also have to climb it once we pasted PC9. Turned onto a side street, as we could see there should be some way into the park land from that community. Found the street, and learned it was private and gated. A local biked out the gate though, and was able to direct us to a public access point for the park we were looking for. Through the gate, and we were onto a dirt road, which I was very scared on, almost to the point of stress asthma. I let a team or two behind us pass, and walked the bike. This made me more and more nervous about the night of biking I knew was to come. But I just made myself forget about that and focus on the trekking ahead. Only a little bit down the dirt section and we found PC5.
Here we had a faster transition -- dropped bikes, refilled fluids and food, grabbed a snack, changed shoes, and were off. We easily made it to PC5d around 6:30, and decided to attempt the back way to PC5c. It was a Dark Zone (ie closed) after, so we thought, 9pm. We got to the end of the trail, and found the creek it looked like we would be able to follow up to PC5c. However, we made our major navigational mistake at this point: instead of pulling out the compass and just doing a general direction check (which I didn't even think of) Erich picked our direction based on only the look of the terrain. Ooops! We couldn't see the side of the mountains next to us, and chose a different two peaks to head for! So we went down into the correct creek, but took it the wrong direction. For 1.5 hours we climbed through poison oak, over rocks, slipped into the stream, through brush after brush after brush, up a dry stream bed, back down it, up to and then away from a beehive, and more traipsing through brush. This was our low point. Having never done anything off trail, and having the built in feeling that it was wrong to be going through plants like that, and that it was dangerous, I got a bit (or maybe more than a bit) bitchy. I was also frustrated... felt like I was just following along, and that Erich would have been faster alone. Up to that point, I had felt we were both contributing well. But now, I had no idea where we were or what was going on. I was tired of getting poked and stabbed and grabbed by brush, and I was tired. I was probably also a bit low on liquids and calories, and I was definitely getting a bit grumpy. Erich was getting annoyed with that, and was being less patient when I asked questions about why we went which way, or wanted to see where we were on the map. I finally broke down. Some tears were shed, and I just told him I just want to know what is going on, and have some part in decisions. That I was not there just to follow because he could read maps and terrain better, but also to learn how to read maps and terrain myself. He apologized, and from then on we both looked at the path when there appeared to be two ways to get somewhere. It was better, but I was still not in a great place. He was more patient from then on out, and I think glad to know I did want to help. I think it was a good reminder to both of us that to have fun, and not worry about how competitive we were. Our ease with the first part of the race had woken a bit of our competitive sides, and this brought us back to our pre-race goals. The car ride home we made more sense of this, but I will get to that at its time.
Finally we found a slope and went up so that Erich could get a better sighting of the land. I ate some sandwich, and drank some, and felt a bit better. From this slope we saw our error, and proceeded to head back, having decided to just go back to PC5d and then take the trail route to PC5c. Here I picked being wet over being poked by more stuff, so we just went along the creek, getting wet instead of trying to find ways around rock-free sections. This probably did help with not getting tons of poison oak, and did make it an easier trip. However, we overshot PC5d along the creek (it was much faster getting back) and were already half way to PC5c, so kept going. At this point it was getting dark (around 8:30) and so headlamps were on and it was a bit tricker to see. Then there were other headlamps ahead! A team going from PC5c to PC5d! They said they'd been going for a while, and that it was a nasty, if not impossible, trek in the dark. They also corrected us -- it was a closed section from 7 on, not 9. So we headed back to where we could find the trail back to PC5d, helping them find it as well since there were little to no clues from in the creek and dark. About 2.5 hours after first finding it, we again passed PC5d, and continued on trails to PCs 5b, 5c, and then 5a. Here of course we learned a lot... mainly, take the 3 seconds to orientate yourself with the terrain and to double check your directions and planned path, but maybe more importantly also to be forgiving, understanding, tough, and to communicate.
It was mostly hiking, and it was not a high energy point. Much of it was runnable, especially in light, but it was dark and I was still not completely back to happy and we ended up walking much of it. We came across teams that we had been with at PC5 who were heading back, done with all the checkpoints, and that again was a reminder of our mistake. But we got the rest of the points fairly uneventfully. One trail that looked to go through didn't and cost us about a mile, and we got a 30 minute penalty for getting to PC5c after dark and missing the challenge there (turns out it was a swim of some kind) but the rest was just hiking along, mostly without talking, and some talking to other teams we came across. This made me appreciate my teammate more and got me out of the funk I was in -- there were teams where one person was just pushing, almost to the point of leaving other members. There were teams smiling, and who remembered us from earlier. There was the team Erich had helped in the kayaks. It reminded me how lucky I was to have the teammate I did, and that every team has its issues, and I got back to trying to be cheerful and happy, and did a decent job of it, and felt much better. During this section we also figured out that letting me play a bigger role in setting the pace was a good idea, as I would push it at a pace I felt I could hold, as opposed to trying to keep up and then feeling bad asking Erich to slow down a bit. This definitely helped our morale.However, I was still tempted to give up after all that, and in my head went back and forth through how bad it would be to stop at that point, and how cold and tired I was.
But we hit the transition area PC6, and some teams were at it as PC9. One was a team with Lance on it, a guy who had been very helpful in the parking lot, and who gave us some more tips. He said I looked tired, to which I answered just cold, and got on changing to drier and warmer clothes, and he said we'd warm up soon with the bike climb to come. And he seemed to know we could do it, and so I regained more of my determination, got ready, and when Erich even asked if I was ok, and to let him know if he was pushing me past what I was comfortable with, I again believed that a tough day should never end a race, and that only missing a cutoff and being forced to stop was a reason to give up. So still tired, but warmer and more confident, we picked up the bikes and headed out for 13 miles of trails, and the part of the race I feared the most coming into it. If that little dirt road to transition scared me, how much worse would big downhills be in the dark?? But I had to try it.
About an hour after reaching PC6 we finally headed out, lights in place and ready to ride and walk with out bikes. During Bulldog Road, I realized I had ran that trail before... that it was the trail (and it turned out we did almost the exact same course but with bikes) from the 14 mile trail race I did in May. I was glad I didn't notice this ahead of time, as that was one of the hardest (if not the hardest) courses I'd ever ran. By the time I really realized it, it was good cause I believed I could walk it. And we figured out a system to keep us closer to the same pace -- Erich was able to walk both bikes easily, which helped me a ton! We made it up to PC7, the big climb conquered. The aid station people were awesome -- told us how great we looked, that we could do it. Got me in a happy, excited mood again. Although we learned that a team in front of us had finished that bike loop and just dropped out from exhaustion (ie hit PC9 and fell asleep immediately) and that the solo team behind us had dropped out after seeing Bulldog, leaving us in last place. Whatever, I thought. Last place is the team that had a tough day and still kept going. 10-15 teams had dropped out, and now I was determined not to. Yes, there are physical reasons that you should drop out as well, but no, I wasn't having any of them. I just needed to get past the mental and do it. And it was a good thing -- all that support and realization made me just go for it on the downhills on the bike from PC7 to PC8. Sure, we missed one turnoff and had to hike back up about half a mile, and there was a ton of fog making it hard to see, but by the end, I was much more confident. I was picking my own paths instead of hoping to see which way Erich picked on the dirt road, and was having fun with making it over sections that would scare me once I thought about it (after I crossed them). I started having a great time and feeling like this was something I could really do. So when we got almost to PC8, I wanted to finish this thing. I knew we could. We ran into Nick and another volunteer right outside the checkpoint, and they told us there was just over an hour to get to the next point before the cutoff. Most teams made it in about 50 minutes. They laughed at some of my comments about the bike section, and were amazed to learn it was one of my first few times on a mountain bike, and were impressed. Again, this built the confidence that we could indeed finish this.
PC8 was also staffed with great volunteers with red vines and smiles, but we hurried through, intent on no missing the cut off. Between PC7 and PC8 we had moved the map to my bike, as it was trails I was somewhat familiar with and it was a fairly straight forward section directionally and would give me practice at following where I was along a map. I knew our turnoffs to get back to the trail to PC9 and easily found them. At one point we crossed a bridge, and almost went down a very wrong trail, but it really felt wrong to me, and then a guy showed up and helped us with the right one. In fact, he told us he had to head back to PC9, and then trailed us in, and we made it at about 7:55 -- we could continue! We had definitely found our sense of fun out there on those trails, especially me. And Erich was impressed with how well I just pushed it and went for it over sections of that last stretch. And we were rewarded with another break at PC9. Someone asked me to at least look a little tired... to which I answered "but it's morning." And I really wasn't that tired. Sure, I had less power in my legs, but I was smiling, and felt great. More awesome support and cheers, more water, more Cytomax, a banana, and another sandwich into the side pouch of my pack, and we were back at it.
Here is where Nick amazed me. Yes, as race director he has to do a final sweep of the course. But he didn't have to stay with us in his car all they way to the checkpoint, playing awesome, inspirational music he found all on the radio (we never heard a single commercial or un-motivational song) and talking to us -- remember bits about our check in, asking about our history, complimenting our determination, and biking, and pure strength in not giving up. Every time it started getting tough, I just heard the words of the songs, and his pride in our race, and smiled and felt great, like we were winning. He gave us one of the best compliment I've ever received. He told us how he has done a number of Eco-Challenges and has done Raid Gauloises, and that any day he would want to be on a team with us. That we were showing the spirit and heart and drive and enthusiasm and teamwork that AR is all about. And we made it, with his help but as a team... pounding up the hills, tow rope in action, and flying down them. We almost didn't have to talk to get the rope hand-offs. We just knew. We were completely a team, and made it to PC10 feeling energized and ready to go. The lady who gave the talk at REI, Maja, was there, and we told her we decided to do that race after her talk. And then Nick joined us for most of the final trek down the hill (until we passed another team and he stuck with and motivated them). He gave little patient tips to improve our navigation, and was impressed with how we worked as a team. It was a bit stressful though -- of course he knew right where to go and would be able to make our decisions in a heartbeat, but I just stayed relaxed, and helped by double checking at each split in the trail (as I was leading and Erich guiding). Soon we were ready to fly, and we came to a downhill, and were off. We spotted another team (they had left 10 minutes ahead of us, but one teammate was very sick so were walking it) and we knew we could catch them. In the last mile and a half, we did. But I didn't care... I was happy to be finishing, and content with how much progress we had made as a team. I don't know when I last ran a trail as confidently or well as I did the last 2 to 2.5 miles to the finish. It felt awesome, and Erich was right behind me supporting me with each step, and I could feel our team energy flowing. Back into the park, across the line 25:15 hours later, smiling and feeling sore feet but fresh and energized. That accomplishment feeling is great. Yup, I'm still addicted to it.
We celebrated with some food and drinks and chatter at the finish -- races are all about the people and experiences for me, not the times and the places. This race was a good reminder of the relative importance of those parts for me. Maja was there, and gave me a hug, telling me how proud she was that her talk helped inspire us, and there looked to be tears in her eyes. She said someone had said she didn't have the experience to give the talk, and we helped her feel successful with it. I was glad I had told her we had been there... I had almost not mentioned it, figuring she had given talks many times and never remembered who went. We also talked with teams, and one guy congratulated us, and mentioned how at least we weren't last (his team was, and we had mentioned being able to pass another team -- ie his -- near the end). And I told him how it just meant that his team had a really tough day but kept going despite it all (there was currently an ambulance checking over one of his teammates who was fairly sick). Yes, I was proud to have passed another team, to have had that last little bit in us. But I would have been just as happy to finish last. Either way, each time had its little issues or maybe even a perfect day -- but I think our race was perfect for us. What we needed to become a stronger team, and stronger people.
And the race was done. We gathered up gear, just throwing it into whatever bin was nearby. The kayak was put back on the truck, We got somewhat rinsed off, and started off. We picked up the bikes, and continued home. Erich wanted to rest first, but I said we could take turns driving and talk to keep each other awake -- I just wanted to get home. We talked about the race. I apologized for being grumpy and unhappy during and for a bit after the off-trail adventure, and we talked about why. About different backgrounds, and how going really into nature like that just scares me. That I'd never camped (until with him the weekend before) and had never gone off a trail. That some part of me was worried we were going to get really lost and not find our way back. We talked about what we did really well, and how we were happy with our teamwork by the end. And we talked about wanting to do another, but wanting to really practice for it. His thing was also that we needed to try and test all gear beforehand next time. We were lucky that lights and such ended up working out as well as they did. We also talked about our place, and how I was glad our easy day didn't continue after the kayak and first bike section. We had no flats, and only one major and a few minor navigational issues. Without them, our first race would have been too easy, and would have given less of a sense of accomplishment. It would also have made me think differently of adventure racing: that it was more like off-road tris where you know where to go and what to expect. This made me want to do it again. It was hard. It really made me push myself, and learn about myself and about Erich and I as a team.
That worked for a while -- like down PCH, through a sandwich (NOT PB & honey) and to the 10 Freeway. But I was riding, and asking Erich questions to keep us talking and awake, and he was giving short, single word answers, and I soon gave up. We were both too tired and worn out for staying awake chatter. He ended up calling someone and was on the phone, and I fell asleep, figuring that would keep him up. We talked little bits on and off the rest of the way, but I dozed on and off and he was on the phone for most of it.
We made it home, and sorted out gear, and I packed up my car and headed to Holly's for a shower and a nap. I wanted the gunk off more than anything! And some sleep before the 45 minute drive home wouldn't be a bad idea, either. And how good that shower felt! I found a leaf and small twigs in my hair, and it took about 3 times of conditioning my hair to get the tangles starting to come out. And I scrubbed off what little sunscreen was left, and sap, and plenty of dirt and grime. I learned that next time wash *all* the sand out of my bike shorts, and to apply more random BodyGlide, as there was plenty of chaffing in areas usually fine. I got out of the shower cleaner, content, and relaxed. Clean clothes felt great, and I ate and read and fell asleep, overall content with the day and its lessons and adventures.
Today I'm not really all that sore, but am definitely tired. My feet are a little sore -- even one of my blisters has a blister. But I'm planning for the next race. I wonder if I'll do the next in the Big Blude series -- Erich will be out of town. Perhaps with a different partner, or maybe I'll volunteer at it.