I headed over to Brent’s place on Monday and spent the night there so we could get an early start. It was a good plan, one that would have worked had we put it into action properly. It allowed us time to go running, do a little climbing and hit the roads on our bikes for a couple hours. Like I said, it was a good plan.
We ended up waking up and getting started a bit slower than we intended, but unlike previous weeks, we already had our stuff ready to go. The upcoming race has a list of required gear, so we bought everything we’d need, divided it up so we were carrying approximately the same weight and jammed it all into our matching packs… did I mention that almost all of our gear is the same? We went shopping and got the same jerseys (they’ll have “GT Frost” patches on the sleeves), the same tiny backpacks, the same climbing helmets and climbing belts, our running tights look the same… aside from accessories like shoes, bike helmets and my glasses, we could be clones! Except one of us says he needs to lose some weight! And he’s glad that the jersey helps hide his gut!
So we jumped into Brent’s Tahoe and drove to a park that had multiple orienteering checkpoints set up. We opted to do the most difficult course, which meant we would start at the shelter, then find a metal pole with a 5 on it, then on to point 16, 12, etc. We were equipped with a map, compass, protein bars and water… everything we’d need to survive. Unfortunately, that was about all I was prepared for: survival. Comfort was an entirely different story.
I was wearing bike shorts instead of my tights, joking that I was going to get a bit of color on my legs. Within a few hundred yards, I remembered once seeing Justin with tanned arms, but lots of white lines on them because when his skin healed from all the scratches he picked up while adventure racing, it was a much lighter color. I sympathized with his arms. A lot.
That difficult course required a lot of trailblazing almost immediately (running over the river and through the woods, to checkpoint 13 we go!). Branches, brambles, sticker bushes, small woodland creatures with sharp claws… everything seemed to take a liking to my legs all at the same time. Meanwhile, back at Brent’s house, my tights were in my overnight bag, laughing their seams across the ass off. I’m not sure just how much ground we covered, but during the course of two hours, my legs looked like I got into a wicked knife fight with a midget with a bad attitude. And I lost. (I knew it was a midget because the scratches only made it to the middle of my thighs, so I didn’t take any severe damage to my junk. Meaning I can still have babies and teach them to bring tights to orienteering courses and wear them!)
At least I can take a little comfort in knowing that my legs weren’t the only casualty during our trailblazing adventures. For one thing, Brent was bitching about picking up a few scratches of his own through his tights. He didn’t get any sympathy from me. But the damage to his shoes was worse. We ran through an area that looked like it might have been a seasonal pond because it had some plants that normally only grow on a shoreline. After a little while, Brent had to stop, kneel down and retie his laces—when I glanced down at him, it looked like he’d picked up a milkweed on his shoe. It was a huge, white puffy blob attached to his shoelace that actually was his shoelace. The thing literally exploded on his foot and was barely holding itself together as we were ran through the woods.
Once we finished the course and got back to the Tahoe, Brent messed with his shoes some more as I felt massive stinging sensations throughout my lower legs. If Brent had followed through with his joke about lemon juice, I imagine anyone within about two miles would have heard my scream and the snap of his neck immediately thereafter. Thankfully, the brambles were mostly satisfied with taking pieces of skin versus chunks of meat—we were having enough fun lugging our packs around. If I’d needed Brent to carry me out of the woods because I couldn’t use my legs anymore… so much for survival.
We managed the climbing part without incident. After getting permits at a park station, Brent set up a climbing rope and we lowered ourselves down a rock wall for practice (it could be part of the upcoming course, so I’d prefer to waste a little time during our training than get to the race and want to wet my tights looking down over a cliff while the clock is running). We got some confused looks from people walking along the trail where we were rappelling, but we knew what we were doing. Mostly. Sorta. Okay, Brent knew what he was doing, but at least I knew enough to not slide down the rope and end up landing on the people walking along the trail.
After getting some food at a nearby Arby’s, we drove back to Brent’s house and thought about going for a ride on the bikes. And we thought some more. And then we decided that our legs had taken enough of a beating for one day. We headed inside his house and thought about watching a movie. And thought some more. And then Brent was on the verge of passing out because he was so tired (a combination of exercise and a lack of sleep isn’t conducive to a state of wakefulness… and if that’s not a word, it should be…). So I drove home from there, legs still stinging from the orienteering course, ignoring the speed limit to an extreme degree for the sake of taking a shower and ridding myself of the constant itchy feelings I picked up during the knife fight.
Note: this all happened last Tuesday, April 25th. The first event of the season is an 8-12 hour race, taking place on May 13th. Given that we were kinda pooped out after two hours of running through the woods and some rock climbing, it could be interesting. But for people who aren’t in the greatest of shape to run, bike, climb and kayak for that long… that sounds like a road less traveled by. And that will make all the difference. GT Frost represent!
