This would normally be the place where I’d write about GT Frost’s most recent adventure race:
“Half an hour after the start of the race, we were biking down the trail when a bear jumped out of the woods and tried to maul us. It took a swing at Brent’s head, but he whipped out our plastic shovel and stabbed it in its furry nutsack. The bear made an extremely unhappy noise and I was going to grab the first aid kit to ease its suffering until it smashed my bike into a nearby tree. That pissed me off to no end, so I kicked it in the shovel wound and took off with the bike on my back.
“We still had to cover another twenty miles to reach three checkpoints and head back to the transition area to use the inflatable kayaks, so I walked to the checkpoints, then another thirty miles to get back to the TA and it was uphill the whole way. Covering all that ground put a lot of pressure on my legs, so just as we got into the water with the kayak, I broke of my tibias and fibulas—it looked like I had four knees instead of two.
“That’s when the bear jumped us again. We were swatting its paws away with our kayak paddles, but it kept getting closer and closer until Brent squirted it in the eyes with his hydration pack, then whacked it with his compass, bloodying its nose. It was getting really pissed off, but then these killer piranhas swam up and started gnawing at its shovel wound…”
You get the idea. Unfortunately, we missed out on our 12-hour race scheduled for the 13th because Brent picked up a case of strep throat. No training runs and no race because he was bitching about some “I need to breathe in order to run” crap… I’d call him a wussy, but he saved my life with that plastic shovel, so I think that makes us even.
