If It Ain't Fun, Why Do It?

Today, I entered a new level of endurance race-dom: adventure racing. (A disclaimer: as you will find out, I didn't actually do a race today, but I can guarantee that I will in the future.) As if I needed another hobby.

Over the past few months of our marathon training, Abby has been subtly but suggestively hinting about the lure of adventure racing. Stories that would make most say "you're crazy" leave me thinking precisely the opposite. I've been the recipient of many "crazy" comments- most justified, I'll admit. I guess I like doing things that others think justify a mental health consultation. Although I've never thought much about adventure racing, I certainly wasn't resistant to it. So today, I took the first logical step into this crazy sport by volunteering at an adventure race in Delaware, in which Abby was participating.

The Savage (appropriately titled, I suppose) is a 6 hour adventure race which consisted of running, mountain biking and canoeing (and wading/fording/swimming in a creek, if desired). Basically like a triathlon, but easier because you canoe instead of swim, right?

WRONG!

The hidden forth event, which I will call "figure out where the hell you're going," makes this a whole different ballgame. What I garnered from today is that adventure racing is as follows: start here, end there, stop at these places, here's a map, hope you have a bike and a canoe, have fun. No mile markers, no arrows, no water stops. It makes marathons (or even triathlons) seem positively elementary.

I began my day helping with registration handing out the maps. As you can guess, the map (or maps, as it were) are a very essential part in the adventure race equation. I learned that when you give someone three elaborate, but deceptively undetailed, maps, it results in the asking of many questions. Few, if any, to which I knew the answer (or even had the faintest idea what they were asking). I answered the first couple questions with an emphatic "I have no idea" and instructions to go ask one of the organizers. Then as I learned a little more about the race and picked up on some key AR terminology, my co-map-giver-outer and I answered many on our own. (I apologize to any participants to whom I gave misinformation, but in the spirit of the race, I'm sure they figured out the truth on their own.) By the end, I had a whole schpiel that I gave to each team. Luckily, I'm a quick learner (or really good at faking it).

After my map duty, I was off to the bike drop where the teams came after running and/or canoeing to pick up their bikes and complete the bike portion of the race. Stationed in the middle of a parking lot, I sat in my Crazy Creek, reading a book, watching for teams coming through the woods, recording their arrival times and continuing to answer questions to the best of my ability. I was sure to tell participants what I knew, but with disclaimers and very little detail. For example:

"So is there more running or do we just bike to the end?" a participant would ask.

To which I would respond with something akin to "well, I know that you don't bring your bikes back here and the end is the same place as the start, but how you get there and what you do between here and the end, I don't know. Have fun!"

I was sure to tell every team to have fun. Seeing the teams jump the curb of the parking lot and venture off into the woods on their bikes looked liked a blast. (Having spent the last 7 years of my biking career on a comparatively fragile road bike, doing things like this on a burly mountain bike seem so fun.) Most teams seemed to be having fun and thanked me for the sentiment. Other teams who maybe veered a little off course or had gotten themselves in over their heads (literally or figuratively) had different responses. My favorite was "if this is what you call fun, you're sick." Probably true.

After waiting for all 100 teams to come through and get their bikes, I was going back to the start/finish area to see the end of the race. I was a little delayed leaving on account of the navigation skills of the final team to come through the bike drop- the aptly named "Lost Boys."

Watching the teams- wet, sweaty, muddy, bloody, tired, exhilarated- bike up a hill to cross the finish line, it hit me that this was definitely something that I wanted to try. I haven't done a triathlon in well over a year, namely because I stopped enjoying them. As I wished fun upon the teams, I realized that was precisely the missing link. I feel that recently the triathlon world has become overly serious and fiercely competitive. This in conjunction with the nightmare logistics of triathlon participation prompted my multi-sport hiatus in exchange for a life of running, running and more running. The experience of the adventure race today, however, may be the ticket back to my former hobby.

Especially if that ticket involves fording a creek as the most logical and appropriate way of getting from point A to point B.

And you don't have to wear a wetsuit.