Early on the morning of September 26, three hardheaded, stubborn, and determined adventurers teamed up to travel the 7+ hour route to Snowshoe, West Virginia to push the limits of endurance, perseverance, teamwork, and sheer will power. I’m honored to have been one of those hardheaded fools. Together with Jonathan Offen and Dennis Huber, I had trained and toiled for the months leading up to this race in an attempt to be even mildly competitive in a field of the most elite adventure racers in the country. We went into it with the mindset that finishing midpack was obtainable, but a top 20 finish would be superb.
Even just the ride to Snowshoe was exciting and memorable. We chatted, schemed, pep talked, laughed, and pondered what lay ahead in the next few days of excitement. If it weren’t for my persistent difficulty with motion sickness, it would have been a fantastic road trip in and of itself. We really had little clue what lay ahead.
On the final part of the ride to the resort we contemplated if the unrelenting uphill road we were on would be a section of the race route. No less than 4 times I was sure the summit would certainly be around the following cloud shrouded bend in the road only to be faced with what was guaranteed to be another daunting quad destroying climb. There was no doubt in my mind we would be doing this with our own (wo)man power within the next 48 hours.
When we finally arrived to the check in, we saw immediate signs of “our people.” Mountain bikes, gear bins, transit vans decked out with all the trimmings to make an AR heart swoon, and, best of all, a motley crew of ruffian racers ready for a weekend of rough and rambunctious revelry lined the roadways and sidewalks. We checked in for our room reservations and returned to the van only to find the roadway completely blocked by emergency vehicles. The sounds of primal wailing gave clue to the fact that someone else’s weekend had become tragically different than that of the 220 racers who were arriving. With a flurry of emergency response personnel scurrying about we knew the best this we could do was offer up silent prayers for the mourning family whose lives had just been blindsided.
While we were blocked in to the parking area, we decided to go ahead and check in to race headquarters. We walked past some teams and racers I’ve only ever seen in major international coverage or on the podiums of races bigger than anything I’ve ever dreamt of participating in. I was having slight (deep, actually) imposter syndrome. But we were here, and we were going to give it our all. We checked in, signed waivers, grabbed our swag bags, did a slightly awkward interview, had our team photos taken, and headed back to the van to head to the gear drop off point just a few miles down the road. Once we arrived there, we did a few last-minute tire checks, chain lubes, map board adjustments, and bottle fills. We staged our bikes in the woods and loaded our paddle bag in the waiting U-Haul, fully aware the next time we would see this gear we would be in high gear race mode.
We cruised back to the resort and found our room after a little navigational snafu that we were gifted with, just to keep us humble and aware we aren’t immune to mistakes. We unloaded our plethora of remaining gear and set the room up with the fold out couch, air mattress, and single bed. With all the sleeping arrangements set up there was barely room to walk, so we headed back out for the prerace briefing.
In the almost hour long briefing we were introduced to the multitude of media coverage members, volunteers, USARA board members, and directors of the race. They covered logistics, course safety, and treated us to a course flyover that left me questioning my decision of partaking in this chaos. They also discussed the weather forecast. With a major hurricane looming off the Gulf of Mexica and on a questionable trajectory through the states, there was a huge possibility of some seriously inclement weather. Would the race be cancelled for terrible weather? Ha. Hahahahahaha. This is adventure racing. Bad weather is practically a given. The paddle section was still in questions, however. With a drought worse than any seen in recent year, the rivers weren’t flowing very well, even with the amount of forecasted rain on the horizon. This was actually a huge bummer for me. Paddling is usually one of my favorite parts of these races, and the area was sure to dish out some beautiful scenery. 
After the briefing, we scurried out as fast as we could to grab some dinner and get as much sleep as possible before the big day. We ate at a little BBQ bar on the resort and then headed back to our room. As we opened the door we were smacked with a musty, moldy smell that was almost intolerable. Dennis called the desk and started getting the ball rolling to get us into a less odiferous accommodation. By the time we were settled into our new, sweet-smelling room it was well after 9. It was turning into a much later bedtime than I had wanted. In all honesty, I don’t think many of us sleep well the night before a race anyway.
All too soon the sound of 3 separate alarms were clanging at 4:45am. We all hopped out of bed surprisingly energetic and set to work getting ready for the upcoming challenge. We left the room at 5:45 and headed over to the 6am map distribution. Walking out the doors of our hotel, we were accosted with thick fog, brutal winds, and dark skies. It was going to be great.
A majority of the tables for teams to plan their course were already taken by the time we arrived, but we found a high-top table and commandeered it for ourselves. Jonathan waited in line for the maps and scurried over as soon as they were in his hands, and we set to work. We poured over the racer guide, which was highly encouraged to be studied. Jonathan and Dennis planned our strategy for the race, and we collectively bubbled with anticipation and anxiety to JUST START THE RACE ALREADY!! The immediate pre-race timeframe is always 100 times more stressful than actually racing. Once we’re out there, it’s us versus the course. You see other teams off and on, but you really have no certainty on how their race is going. And obviously, while racing, you have the tasks at hand to funnel all your energy into. Pre-race is plotting, scheming, often second guessing, and over analyzing. But racing is REAL.
The captain’s meeting was brief and soon enough we all headed over to the race start in the center of the resort. 220+ racers strolled through the whipping clouds and drenching drizzle absolutely buzzing with anticipation. Last minute pack adjustments were made, media was snapping pictures, and soon enough a countdown set us off on a quick prologue designed to spread out the teams. We had to find 5 out of 9 checkpoints placed within the resort before we could run out on our first trek leg of the race. We made quick work of grabbing the points to the west and slightly south of the start point and then headed due north to begin our official race.
We had told ourselves that we wouldn’t run unless we absolutely felt compelled to at any point. Well, we apparently felt quite compelled right out of the gate and took on an easy AR shuffle up the thick, beautiful woods that surrounded the resort. We picked off the first 4 checkpoints without a hitch. One CP we had to go for twice but with a different attack point we found it quickly. We had to grab points in order on this, and many other, legs. While this created a very linear route, it also impeded too many options on route choice. We kept our options as open as we could and eventually decided to grab all the points on the leg and only one of the “window” points. The window CPs were each worth only one point, but if you were able to obtain all three you would get bonus points in addition.
As we progressed through this trek, the weather began to worsen. What started as a misting fog became and steady rain and finally and torrential downpour with high winds. Hurrican Helene was making her appearance on Cheat Mountain. We ended the leg with a steep climb up a ski slope and trudged our way to TA 1. As we passed a hotel, we noticed an open stairwell with an option of some shelter from the weather. We chose to check in to the TA, fill our water bottles, grab our bikes and bike bag, and headed over to the overhang. While the structure helped us dodge the rain, it only made a vortex of wind. Attempting to pour tailwind powder into my bottles became a joke with more of the powder swirling around me than in my water. We did some slight clothing and gear adjustments, mounted our bikes, and headed our into the gale force winds and driving rain for 40+ miles of biking.
We chose to drop the first 3 points on this next leg to try and bank some time along the course. Chasing cutoffs is no fun, and with less than stellar weather, we knew clearing the course was far from realistic for us. Jonathan’s navigation was fantastic. He easily guided us from one point to the next. What started as gravel roads gradually became more narrow, rutted fire roads, and finally some super fun, occasionally technical, and nearly flowy single track. Had there not been a deluge of rain dumped on the area, that section of biking would have probably been my favorite of the whole race. Hailing from lower Delaware, we don’t get many opportunities to improve our mountain biking skills, but I can say with confidence that that trail made me a better rider. I can’t claim to have avoided all instances of ungraceful, unplanned dismounts, but I probably did my lifetime best on there. There were a few times the guys looked back prepared to stop and wait for me to walk a section. I absolutely ate up the look of surprise on their faces to see me trucking right along behind them.
It was still midafternoon by this time, but the dark clouds had it feeling like evening as we emerged onto another blessed wide gravel road. We scooted along playing ping pong with a few other teams on this section of gradual climbs and descents. Our spirits were pretty high here, even as we approached a steady uphill section. I am not a strong bike pusher, so it’s easier for me to throw my bike into the absolute lowest gear and just (so) slowly and steadily work my way up a hill, usually right around the same speed Jonathan and Dennis can push their bikes. We were in this formation, chatting along with another team, when Jonathan first had to stop to fiddle with the gears on his bike. I’m no bike mechanic, so I can’t tell you exactly what the problem was, but him and Dennis had it figured out pretty quickly. Until it happened again about a mile further into the climb. By this point, Dennis was in a deep conversation with another team and didn’t notice Jonathan hop off his bike to tinker again. I stopped to help out in whatever way my non-bike-workings-literate self could assist. He got the chain back on quickly, but while he was attempting to line up his derailleur better…. the hanger snapped. Something was hanging that even I knew appeared to be a catastrophic dilemma. But wait!! I had a thingy in my bike bag that Dennis had made sure I kept since our race in Florida earlier in the year! I shuffled back to my bike and procured this foreign item and showed Jonathan. Ha!! That’s what he needed to fix the problem, only he had a persnickety Trek bike and my Cannondale used the universal derailleur hanger. So, it was the correct part, but the wrong model. Around this time Dennis realized his team was not still right on his heels as he had assumed, and he came flying back down the road after making another bend in the gradually climbing route. He also rides a Trek and he had the exact piece Jonathan needed. Together they became a two-man bike shop on the side of a mountain road in a wind and rainstorm. Resilience. As per the norm of adventure racing, every team that passed by us during that event stopped to ask if we were ok or needed any help. What a fantastic sport we all enjoy together!
Once back on the road we continued the climb up to a view that was post card perfect, even with the relatively low clouds, whipping winds, and pelting rains. We made our way into a mountaintop bike park and began ticking off more checkpoints on trail intersections along with a splattering of other teams. After the first 3 points on this section, my quads and calves were beginning to get shaky and my confidence in staying upright on that technical single track was waning. We stopped for a quick snack and breather and collectively decided to drop the remaining 3 points in that area and move on. We headed back out of the park and back on to the wide gravel roads. That post card perfect view followed us for a few more miles. The weather was beginning to clear ever so slightly, and we were blessed with some of the most remote, untouched, pristine, and flawless views of mountains painted with fall foliage that I have ever had the pleasure of taking in. I could have sat and stared for hours, but we were racing, and the views had to be sneaked while maintaining speed and safety on a few invigorating downhill sections of loose gravel. We eventually came to a road intersection with some familiar transit vans, media crew, and volunteers. We had arrived at the next window. We eagerly hopped off our bikes, threw on our headlamps and headed out on foot to grab a few more points. Our first point was just off a trail, but our attack point had us fighting through some thick deadfall and loose shale. Dennis punched the CP after battling a particularly gnarly dead spruce that grabbed every article of clothing he was wearing as he tried to get around or over it. While Dennis was dealing with this battle, I looked up and saw the very first peek of sunlight pop through the clouds for just a few moments. Yes!! There was an end in sight to this unrelenting weather! I turned to Jonathan and excitedly pointed out the white flag nature was waving to us, but he did not see the optimism in the moment that I saw. It appeared Jonathan was having his own bonkey-battle. I asked him if he was ok, and he honestly returned “I’m in a bad place right now.” I appreciated his truthful answer and went into mother hen mode offering him snacks, NSAIDS, and water. He took me up on a (lifesaving) oatmeal cream pie and some Motrin and he rested for a moment. I asked to take the maps for just a minute to let him disconnect from the stress of navigating. The next CP that made sense was just up the road and appeared to be an easy shot. Dennis met us back at the road and we discussed our options. While the snack had helped a little, the prospect of fighting more deadfall and elevation wasn’t appealing to the team as a whole, so we headed back down to the bikes.
Along the way I had to pop into the woods for a moment and discovered the joys of womanhood had hit at one of the most inopportune times. Again. I swear my body just waits for race day when there is one on my calendar. But we have to plan for these things too, so I eventually emerged from my hiding spot as ready to race again as I could be.
We remounted our bikes with headlamps and bike lights blazing. The tiny sliver of sunlight I had been blessed with was quickly reneged by nature and we were met with another downpour and some thick fog as the darkness of night enveloped us. A team passed us about an hour into this ride and very kindly let me know my rear blinky light had given up on me. I yelled ahead for the guys to wait a moment so I could change out my batteries. I know it’s something simple, but I eventually became very frustrated with the situation. Pouring rain, packaging that was NOT designed for cold, wet fingers, and a serious case of the dropsies was pushing my aggravation into high gear. It culminated when I was trying to use my mouth as a third hand and held one of the batteries between my lips. Ummmm… Basic science apparently was too much for my brain at the time and I was gradually realizing why my lips were beginning to feel highly “tingly and hot.” Those little flat batteries can give you a good zing! I finally rectified the dead blinky and hopped back on the bike and caught up with the guys. Jonathan was feeling better, but I was getting the grumps a little. Dennis suggested some refueling and after a gel, a few swigs of tailwind, and some giggles, I was back in action. Not long after that the easy road shot uphill into some more sloppy, muddy, and rocky single track. We rode what we could and pushed what we couldn’t. After a moving water creek fording, thick rhododendrons, and a handful of downed trees, we re-emerged onto an open gravel road that led us to our second TA.
There was a flurry of activity in the pop-up hub of lights and sounds. Our bikes had to be loaded onto U-Hauls, we had to check in and check out prior to moving on in the course, and water bottles had to be filled. There were also shots of bourbon offered. I was mentally all for a little internal warmth, but Jonathan and Dennis were the voices of reason saying it could really give us a gut punch, so I passed on the bourbon and had a homemade chocolate cookie instead. While I thought I was moving quickly and purposefully enough, Dennis made the comment we needed to get ourselves together and hurry up. What?! We hadn’t been in the TA for more than a minute and I was getting fussed at for moving slowly? I may have thrown a little moody girl tantrum for just a minute, but it passed as soon as a volunteer found us to convey some sweet trail mail from home.
Our friend, Mark Montague, was there with his gimped-up leg from a spill the day before the race. He is always such a fun person to be around, and he gave me a hearty welcome. I filled my bottles with some highly coveted water and mixed a little tailwind into them. Jonathan was next to me attempting to do the same, but he dropped his bottle as soon as it was filled and spilled it all over the wet ground. He tried again and dropped it again. This went on for two more bottles! He later said it was like he was watching it happen to someone else; he couldn’t understand what was going on! Eventually, he got himself together and met us over where the bikes were. I had tried to be helpful and load our bikes into the U-Haul while Jonathan was dealing with stroke-like symptoms. However, what I hadn’t realized was that all our maps were still in Jonathan’s map board, now loaded deep in the U-Haul. He scurried over to the volunteers and was given the OK to snake into the sea of bikes and drop off his bottle and pick up the maps. Oops!
In reality, I think we were in and out of that TA in less than 10 minutes. Without the draw of gear bins, there really wasn’t much point to milling about, other than rest. But who has time for that?! We headed off along a fire road into the deep woods of the Monongahela National Forest. We veered off into the direction of the Allegheny Trail and made a halfhearted attempt at CP24. Motivation was starting to wane, and we quickly threw in the towel on that one. We continued on to a small shelter that announced our arrival to the Allegheny Trail conjunction. Sitting down on the edge of that shelter was a terrible decision. The sleepies that had been stalking Dennis jumped on his back and started to devour him. He half-jokingly (mainly seriously) suggested we take advantage of the dry space and catch a quick nap. Ridiculous. We forced a terrible flavored caffeine gel onto him and moved on to grab what appeared to be an easy CP to grab. Oh, how the RD probably giggled herself to sleep on CP 23 and its cruelty. We climbed about 250 feet of vert and went headfirst into thick vegetation and huge boulders. After goofing around for a few futile minutes, we decided to climb to the top of the trail and pace count back down to where the CP was plotted. we scrambled into the thick woods again and again came out empty handed. Demoralizing. We had wasted about an hour on this elusive checkpoint and decided to cut our losses. Later we found out we were far from the only team to come out of those Snow-White-Snatchy woods without a point to show for it. But plenty of other teams were able to find it, so it was us, not the placement of the CP, that was the problem.
We continued on the Alleghany Trail as it hugged the ledges and drop offs of Shavers Mountain. There were 2 more points along this section of the trail that looked easy enough to grab, but both proved the well-marked fire roads on the map were anything but well-marked in the real world. We continued on this trail for what felt like hours. I suggested a quick stop to take a break and consume some highly nutritious Cheetos. I doled out a handful to the guys and we sat on the side of the trail for about 5 minutes. Looking up, I caught the slightest glimpse of a small twinkling object. My Goodness!! There were stars out! The clouds had abated, and we weren’t in the drenching clutches of Helene any longer! This, and the Cheetos, lifted me back up onto my feet and we continued on our march.
Eventually, we came to another gravel road and a few teams stopping for a breather. I was feeling as well as could be expected on this section, but both Dennis and Jonathan were on the sleep struggle bus. Stopping wasn’t an option, but I gave them the option to walk with their eyes closed while holding on to my pack so we could keep moving forward. Jonathan declined the offer, but Dennis was in a more desperate need for sleep and took me up on the offer. We kept a pretty good pace on that road and even passed a team or two. We came upon a sharp turn off to the right and Jonathan stated that the CP at the top of this road was undoubtedly an easy one to grab since it was clued as “behind bench on trail at vista.” It had to be a mercy point from the director. Once we made it to the top of the road, we were met with a few tailheads. Jonathan was hanging on by a thread and appeared slightly annoyed that the bench wasn’t RIGHT THERE. I offered to help locate the CP using the map and he willingly handed over the packet. It was, in fact, one of the easiest CPs to find, being right on a trail, so I can’t make a big deal about finding it, but it felt good to navigate, even for such a tiny moment.
We punched the CP and took the advice of another racer we had crossed paths with who highly suggested we stop at this vista, turn our headlamps off, and shut up for a moment to take in the view. Whoever you were that suggested that, thank you. I have never, ever, EVER seen such an awe-inspiring view of the night sky. I could have sat there until the sun came up just taking in the beauty of God’s masterpiece on display there. We all three sat down on the bench and just marinated in the moment. There are times in nearly every race where I’m sure I’ll never forget an experience for the rest of my life. That three minutes of quiet staring into the sky was one of them. I love nothing more than my husband and our 5 kiddos, but I was super grateful to be able to experience that view with 2 fantastic teammates. I won’t say I teared up, cause I didn’t, but I was ever so slightly emotional. Totally because of lady hormones, for sure.
We took the time to finally put on a layer of dry clothing and all three of us felt a little better on the descent from the vista. We followed the fire road for another mile or so before bushwacking back into the forest to reconnect with the Allegheny Trail. Jonathan navigated perfectly and we were back on that rocky, unforgiving, undulating, and unwelcoming trail before we knew it. After what seemed like hours of slowly making our way down the side of that mountain, we finally came to the Greenbriar River where we had been told there was no way to cross other than linking arms with your teammates and trudging through the thigh high swirling waters. We came through that task unscathed and made our way to TA 3.
This transition area offered little more than a boost to be around other people and some water for our bottles. We were in and out of the TA within minutes and eased our sore tushes back onto our bikes. Jonathan located an evil, but quick, trail that connected us onto the rail trail that held our next CP. We meandered around the banks of the Greenbriar River for a few minutes before locating CP 31. We got back on our bikes and enjoyed a relatively flat ride on to TA4 where life became worth living again. I have never enjoyed a walking taco as much as I did in that foggy, fantastic, early morning TA. The sun was coming up and there was an energy that emanated from the volunteers there that we all needed.
Our team was asked to do a quick interview with Brian Gatens, host of one of my favorite AR podcasts. We probably appeared confused and bleary eyed, but we answered all his questions and tried our best to look put together. This is where the paddle would have started had the river been more accommodating, but it wasn’t, so we headed out on our bikes again.
Its still debatable whether Jonathan lied to me at this point, or it was a honest miscommunication, but I was under the impression this next section of biking would be on a flat-ish rail trail. It was, in fact, NOT on anything that could be considered flat. At all. But the sun was up and illuminating the rolling mountainsides with such a warm welcoming light that I didn’t mind the ache in my muscles in the slightest. We slowly climbed and swiftly descended roadways for the next 10ish miles and finally found ourselves at TA5, our final transition of the race. This was again a quick transition, save for a short conversation we had with some fellow racers that made me smile. I love the community of AR so much.
We headed out and back up the frustratingly steep roadway back to the main road that would lead us to our final challenges of the race. I’m still convinced we passed through a portal on the ascent because before we knew it, we were back at the roadway, and I hadn’t died. We peddled on until we came to the intersection where we would have to turn off and begin the killer climb that was cheered for by all those crazy racers at the briefing during the course flyover. We peddled, pushed, and persisted through over 1200 feet of unrelenting elevation gain. Once we finally summited the mountain we set off on clearing our first window of the race. Our first stop was a relatively easy grab off the fire road we were traversing. The following CP was about a mile down a flat railroad track that led to an observation deck yielding yet another magnificent view. One of the photographers was perched at this site to snap my absolute favorite picture from the race. We looked tired, beat down, and filthy, but we all had big, satisfied grins on our mud speckled faces.
Following this CP we went on for the final CP of the window and our race. When we arrived at the base of the climb to the CP, we found racer carnage all along the trail side. There were racers lying next to bikes and boulders attempting to trudge up the motivation to make this nearly 75-foot climb to CP O. After we bopped the CP, we remounted the bikes, and my totally disconnected mind thought we were on our very last slight and gradual downhill to the finish. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The trail we encountered was a muddy, loose, rocky, chaotic descent that I was certain would end with a fracture (or two) for my beaten and tired body. As we started down this section, I tried to channel that confidence I had in the first section of single track less than 24 hours before, but all I could muster was a series of expletives and bartering with the Almighty to help me off that mountain. The guys were far more confident in both themselves and me than I was. I found myself getting infuriated that they were so far ahead of me and appearing not to care if I had a serious tumble, which I was confident was just one pothole away. I later convinced myself that they were really just surer of my abilities than I was, and I was simply being an overly dramatic pile of poo.
Our death descent led us to a familiar intersection that would lead us back to the resort. I suddenly realized we still had an additional steady climb of at least 850 feet back to the finish. But it was the final challenge. We had nearly completed this crazy “WHAT THE HELL” course, and this was my final giant to kill. So, on we climbed. It had already been over 2 hours since I had been able to get any nutrition into my body, but I was in finish mode and the thought of pizza and beer was all that would keep me going. I didn’t want tailwind, I didn’t want a gel, I didn’t want anything, but without ingesting anything my muscles were starting to give out on me. I was falling further and further behind the guys. I had full body bonking at its finest. The guys had to try all kinds of tactics to get me to pick up the pace. Dennis pushed my bike for me for a spell, and Jonathan encouraged me relentlessly that we were “nearly almost there!” It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t fun. But, we finally made it to the cobblestones that led to the finish. We could hear the music and shouts of the race staff and spectators. In that indescribable ability to pull just the slightest additional motivation, we dug in deep, quieted our screaming muscles, and roared into the finish line courtyard to cheers and the announcer cheering “TEAM 106, DELMARVA ADVENTURE SPORTS! Elke Dolder, Jonathan Offen, and Dennis Huber have completed the 2024 USARA NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIPS!”
I had the biggest, goofiest grin on my face and eagerly accepted the finisher medal from an adorable young lady. We paused for a few pictures and confirmed our Garmin watch settings and sealed phone bag with the race staff. We dropped our bikes in the closest free space we could find and made our way through the crowd to the coolers. Walking beside Jonathan, I had to thank him for leading us through such a tough and memorable course. He really did a fantastic job.
We each chugged a soda, inhaled some pizza, and grabbed a complementary beer. After sitting in some otherworldly comfortable chairs, we mustered the motivation to head back to our room and start the painstaking process of cleaning ourselves up after almost 30 hours of mud, sweat, filth, and grim. There was a mandatory interview all teams were asked to complete. We tried to sneak away but Doug Silk found us just as we were turning to head to our room and proceeded to energetically ask us how our race went. I can’t wait to see that interview because I have no recollection of what I mumbled into the microphone. After we escaped the interview and arrived back in our room, the exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks. The guys very chivalrously allowed me to get first shower while they ever so kindly went back to grab the bikes and load them into the van. I owe them huge for that.
Standing in the bathroom, I couldn’t figure out how to disrobe without turning the bathroom into a complete mess, so I climbed into the tub with shoes and all and began to peel off the layers of absolute filth. The water eventually ran clear, and I emerged a new person. The guys returned and each took their turns scrubbing away the cocoons of filth. Once we were all presentable-ish, we collectively decided we needed more sustenance and wondered back out to the finish for some more pizza. We were handed another box of pizza, and we hobbled back to our room like greedy little goblins with a treasure. In the room, we each had a hard cider and some more pizza before we succumbed to unavoidable sleep. We only slept an hour before it was time to attend the awards ceremony. We wiped our sleepy eyes, unwillingly put out trashed feet into shoes, and ambled back down to the courtyard. We didn’t win any accolades, but we eventually discovered that we placed better than we had expected. We were, in fact, in the top 20 of our division with a final placement of 17 out of 34 teams, and we came in 37th out of 73 teams overall. Not bad for some flatlanders!
After the ceremony, we scrambled for a table at one of the overwhelmed restaurants, ate quickly, and headed back to our room. We all took time to talk with our beloved families and then curled into our respective beds and fell into deep, well-deserved sleep. In the morning, we refused to admit we were awake for as long as we could convince ourselves. We eventually accepted the fact we needed to be productive, and we dressed, grabbed some breakfast at the Starbucks in the resort, and reloaded the van. We sat in the room for just a little longer chatting about the race and life, and eventually made our way to the van to begin our long ride home.
The ride was filled with “remember when on the race”, and “we totally should have”, and “next time we’ll try” conversations. We laughed, rested, and chatted for the 7 hours of car ride. Along the way, we stopped for the most delicious burritos and tacos any of us had ever consumed. While putting in our order, Jonathan received a call from his wife, Andrea, with the news that their youngest son had taken a hard spill off his dirt bike and needed some stitches in the ED. We had a little more of a push to get home quickly at this point. By the time we arrived, his son was put back together and back home, eager for his dad’s arrival. The Offen family gave us a warm welcome home and we divided up the fetid mass of gear between ourselves. We stood in the driveway chatting for a few more minutes before the draw of my family became too much and I had to cut out. I thanked both of my teammates for another incredible experience and headed home to my waiting crew.
It was a trip and a race for the books. There were things we could have done better and there were things we could be proud of. Overall, it was the race of the year for me, and I’m already counting down to next year.