(3:00am) – It’s the second time my alarm has gone off in the morning as I struggle to wake myself up. Damn. Has it already been two hours since I went to bed? It only felt like it’s been a few minutes. Trying to clear my fogged head, I try to remember what things I had remembered just before I fell asleep that I needed to pack. Something with the bike...I think. Suddenly, a flash of insight – my bike computer. I had taken it off Friday morning thinking it wasn’t allowed in the race. But after checking with the race organizers Friday night, I found out it was allowed, even encouraged.
I slip into my racing clothes that I had set out the night before – my Park Tools biking jersey, a pair of Reebok running shorts, my $9/pair wool socks, my running shoes, and a pullover for the time being to keep me warm. Notice there wasn’t a mention of underwear anywhere in there. Anything cotton was definitely to be avoided in these long races. As soon as I get my laces tied, the phone rings. “Who the hell is calling at....” is the first thought that races into my brain until I realize I told Jason I probably needed a “wake-up” call. After telling him I was awake and that I would be over at his place shortly, I eat a bowl of granola cereal quickly.
Making sure I have everything I needed, I load the rest of the food into my car, grab my pack and head out the door. It takes about 20 minutes to reach Jason’s house. When I arrive there, I find them loading the remainder of their equipment into Jason’s truck. His cousin Billy and his wife are already there looking bleary-eyed and bushy-tailed. The temperature is cool, but not cold - perfect weather in which to race. As my gear gets arranged in the back of Jason’s truck, I take a brief moment & slather Vaseline over various parts of my body. Just another tip I picked up from Nathan. We leave the house just shortly after 4am to make the 25 minute drive out to the Jolly Roger marina. The closer we get to the marina, the more excited I feel. All of the sudden it doesn’t feel like I only had two hours of sleep that night.
(4:45am) – We’re finally at the Jolly Roger marina. Various teammates, support crew, race personnel, media crews and medical staff are all wandering around in the dark. The only lighting available are the headlamps being worn and the occasional splash of bright light from one of the video cameras or mounted halogen lamps. The drive out took a little longer than we planned, considering we had overshot the marina entrance and had to turn around. We think they deliberately covered the sign for the marina entrance as we didn’t see any indication of the marina until we were coming back from the other direction. Seeing as how we drove past several bike-ladened vehicles going the other way, we weren’t the only ones that missed the entrance.
We don our race jerseys, strap on our packs, make sure we have our maps and race passport, and pose for one last photo before assembling at the starting line. The temperature at the marina was much like it was in town – still cool, not very humid with a light breeze. It was going to be a beautiful morning.
(4:55am) – Before having us send one person from each team to get the first set of checkpoints (also thereby doing a roll call), we were to sing the National Anthem. A bugle rang out in the night and commenced playing the first few notes of the Star Spangled Banner. Slowly, voices added to the melody until we were all singing in unison. What a great way to start off the race – as a whole, unified group. As the final phrase trickled off our tongues, “...and the home of the brave....” everyone launched into a chorus of applause and cheers, anxious to get the race started.
The race personnel then proceeded to do a roll call and called out each team in turn. As the words, “Kinetically Challenged” were spoken, we responded with a loud “HERE!” in unison and sent Natalie forward to get our coordinates. After all the teams were called, and all the coordinates passed out, they reminded us one last time to re-plot one of the points (checkpoint 23) on the lower map that we might have plotted on the upper map. Then someone shouted “GO!” and the individual racers all dashed back to find their respective teams.
As soon as Natalie got to us, we found a flat spot in the sand just off of the road and Jason started to plot the new points while Natalie and I re-plotted the corrected point. After we finished, I went and double-checked Jason as he continued to plot. By this time, some of the teams had finished plotted and had set off. We could hear people cheering for them as they ran past the starting line out into the darkness. Soon, more and more teams set off and I was beginning to get a little impatient. But I remembered that we needed to stick to our race plan and that meant making sure the points were plotted perfectly. After all, a point plotted incorrectly could cost a lot of time in the field. Once we were satisfied our points were plotted correctly, we stuffed the maps into Jason’s waterproof map case while making sure the race passport and course booklet was sealed securely in my mapcase. We weren’t the last team to leave the staging area by any means, but there sure weren’t very many teams left. We clicked on our headlamps and walked briskly into the night.
(~5:20am) – Having reached the first checkpoint in 30-something place, our spirits were still high as we set off through the woods to locate the second checkpoint. The first checkpoint was located close to a dry creekbed off of Hwy 10. Instead of following a long, slow-moving single-file line of racers through the creek bed, we had blazed a trail of our own and reached the checkpoint ahead of the teeming crowd. From there, again instead of following the crowd, Jason led us cross-country as we sought out the second checkpoint, located a ways up a draw from the lake.
(Sometime after 6:00am) – After searching for what seemed like hours, we finally located the checkpoint only to find out we were still in 30-something place. But it gave us hope to know that a lot of other teams hadn’t found it yet and several of the teams had just barely found it before we did. We had ended up searching the wrong draw for quite some time before traveling back to the lakeshore to orient and locate ourselves on the map. At some point, we had found the other team from FTN but we parted ways as we both decided to do different things in trying to find the checkpoint. Later we found out that they had arrived at the checkpoint approximately 15 minutes before we did so it looks like they did something right.
Not having any reference marks or landmarks in the dark definitely made the orienteering and navigating much more difficult. However, seeing as though we were still halfway in the pack gave us encouragement and hope that we were still competing well with all the teams. In fact, when we located CP3 a while later, we were still in 33rd place so we were still keeping up. However, this is where things started to go downhill.
Somehow between CP3 and CP4, we lost a whole lot of time to the other teams. I was doing the navigation at this point and I overshot CP4, but not by a huge distance. We backtracked a little bit and found CP4 without any problems. But instead of being in the mid-30s like we had been, all of the sudden we were in 47th place. How we lost 15 places was beyond all of us. That definitely started our downward spiral.
By this point, our legs were starting to get majorly scratched up by all the thorny vines we had to walk through. Ankles and knees were starting to hurt and we were starting to get a little frustrated. It wasn’t very comforting to know that we were almost in last place and that we still had a large portion of the trekking leg ahead of us. Our patience was wearing thin and our comments to each other were short and snappy.
CP4-5 – on the shore? Took a long time...daylight coming out.
(Around 9:30am) – Having reached CP6, we hoped for a bit of a respite. The instructions in the course booklet told us “to travel due south for 100m and pick up an old trail that would take us directly to CPs 7 & 8.” Seeing as how our ankles were starting to give out, any sort of a trail was a welcome sight. We were determined to find it no matter how long it took us. We shot a bearing south using a compass and started to walk. However, no one really kept track how far we had gone as we felt it would be obvious when we came across the trail. After going further than we felt was necessary and finding virtually no sign of any trail, our frustration grew even deeper. I suggested we just shoot straight for CP7 rather than losing anymore time looking for the trail. However, Jason’s knee was in severe pain and he wanted to find this trail more than anything. Determined to find this trail, he stormed back the way we had come, this time intending to pace the “supposedly” 100m that we were instructed. Again, after walking due south for the requisite distance, we found no trail. Just more sloping terrain, more thorns, and more sharp branches.
Wanting to get done with this trekking portion as quickly as possible, Jason shot a bearing directly to CP7 and set off on a slow run – stopping every 20-30 yards to make sure he was on course. Natalie and I followed behind him as well as we could, keeping him in sight. After sometime, as we got closer to CP7, we ran into a few other teams that were leaving from CP7. They directed us to the trail which took us straight to the CP. 47th place. Nothing had changed. I didn’t know if that was good or bad. Either we were losing more time to the teams in front of us, or the teams behind us weren’t catching up either.
We decided to give the instructions one more chance seeing as they directed us to follow the trail which would supposedly take us from CP7 to CP8. But after we stayed on the trail for a few minutes, it veered due west, which would take us in the wrong direction from CP8 (which was more to the south). We had to make a decision – do we trust the directions and stay on the trail (even though it went in the wrong direction), hoping it would loop back to where we were supposed to be going? Or did we leave the trail and head cross-country once again, shooting for the shortest distance but over very rugged terrain again? Seeing how Jason was fighting the pain he was feeling, I asked for the map and looked it over.
It appeared that CP8 was located on a road almost due south of where we were. Before we made it to the road, we would encouter a very steep hill. I figured if we tried to travel due south, we would see the hill, and then all we had to do was stay on contour and follow the hill around until we intersected the road. It didn’t seem too difficult to locate so I told Jason that I would lead. As long as I didn’t go too far to the southeast, either we would hit the hill first or we would hit part of the road. The longer we travelled, the less confidence I had in myself. I kept thinking that perhaps I had made a mistake and we somehow missed the road. But I could hear traffic in the distance in the direction we were traveling and we were travelling due south according to the compass so I had to rely on that. I craned my neck and my eyes to search for a break in the woods. Any sign of the road. Jason and Natalie were following and Jason seemed to be doing a little better. We weren’t going fast by any means but we were moving, which was important.
After what seemed like a very long time, I finally spied a pickup truck parked on a road through the trees, and there seemed to be an orange banner. Bingo. I had led us straight to CP8. My redeeming feature that morning. Trudging up to the truck with my passport in hand, I asked if we were in last place. “Nope,” the volunteer replied, “you’re in 48th place. Not quite last.” Seeing the road leading down to Pinnacle Mountain was like seeing an oasis in a desert. We had finally finished the bushwacking portion of the race. From there on out, the race would be on very familiar terrain, and we hoped that that advantage would help us make up some lost time. However, the trekking was still far from over as we still needed to summit and descend from Pinnacle Mountain, not at all a desireable task given the shape we were in. Jason’s knee had all but given out on him. My legs were bloody with the remnants of a bandage half hanging off my left shin. Natalie’s shoelaces had been tied and re-tied so many times that I was amazed she still had circulation to her feet. We kept telling ourselves that we were almost done – willing ourselves to continue the march onward.
Leaving the checkpoint after refilling our hydropacks, we encountered another team making their way up this rather steep hill we were going down toward the checkpoint we had just left. Damn. They must have really gotten off course if they were coming from that direction. We didn’t envy the climb they were having to make.
After making our way down to Pinnacle Mountain Valley Road, we took the service road up the west side of Pinnacle Mountain, hoping that that would help us gain some time on the teams in front of us. And sure enough as we crossed over to the trail from the service road, we spied some bright orange jerseys through the trees not too far above us. It looked like we were within striking distance of a couple of teams. I continued to take the lead, setting a pace I hope my teammates could keep. They looked haggard and tired, and seemed to be just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Going up the west summit trail wasn’t too bad. In fact, we passed two teams going up who seemed to be having a rougher go at it than we were. One of the guys asked us how much further it was to the top – making it obvious that he had never climbed Pinnacle Mountain before.
Even though we were struggling as a team, I took the time to look out from the mountain as we climbed. It has got to be one of the most beautiful views in Central Arkansas. You can literally see for miles around and doing so reminded me of one of the reasons I was doing the race. Sometimes you’re so focused on the race that you forget to take time and enjoy the experience. After a long, slow climb to the top, I went & got our passport signed at the checkpoint and we posed for a couple of snapshots. We may have looked beat, but we were still determined.
Descending the East Summit Trail was even more difficult than our ascent. But at least we knew what we were in for as we had done it in the past. Slowly but surely, one boulder at a time, we descended carefully. Trying to do things too fast or go at a pace that is somewhat hazardous is an easy way to end the race for the team. We felt confident that we had actually made up a couple of places and hoped that we would continue to catch up more as we trekked towards the canoeing leg.
However, after our descent, we were supposed to take the Ouchita Trail to the transition zone/CP11. The trail seemed to go on forever, winding its way around trees and more trees. It sure seemed to take A LOT longer than just walking the road. But the instructions said specifically that we needed to stay on the trail. We could be penalized if they found us disregarding the instructions. After a couple of potty breaks and Jason doing all that he could to keep walking, we finally arrived within eyeshot of the transition zone. Just a short quarter mile jaunt on the asphalt lay between us and some much needed time off of our feet. As we trudged along the roadside, we spied several support vehicles traveling the other direction, their jobs done for the time being. Talk about a let down – there’s nothing like seeing a transition area devoid of support vehicles. All I could think of at this time was, “at least we have nothing to lose now.” Any hopes of doing well in the race was now transformed into hopes of just finishing. Plus we still felt confident that we could make up some places during the last biking leg – our strongest skill area.
As Jason and Natalie received some precious care from their friends, I took the passport and jogged to the railroad bridge – where the actual checkpoint was located. Deanna (Nate’s fearless wife) was there manning that checkpoint and greeted me with all smiles. I smiled weakly back, probably looking even more forlorn than I felt. She told me that she would hold on to the passport until we were ready to board our canoes, and then one of us would have to come back for it. “Ugh,” I thought, “just when I thought all the walking we had was done.” I jogged back to the transition area and indulged in my Subway sandwiches and Gatorade. Our support crew was great. Jason’s friends refilled my hydropack, helped me replenish my powerbars & Snickers bars, and made sure I was able to concentrate on purely eating as they took care of all the “housekeeping” duties. As I finished eating, Jason and Natalie retrieved our canoeing gear and were anxious to set off. I stuffed the last bite of sandwich in my mouth, grabbed a Gatorade bottle for the canoe, and jogged back to the manned checkpoint to retrieve our passport. I’d meet Jason and Natalie down by the canoe launch.
I was somewhat anxious about the canoeing leg, actually. It was one area we had the least practice with, and I was concerned about our endurance and strength. But Jason told us that people rarely make up or lose a lot of time during the canoeing leg, so there wasn’t much point in going all-out on the paddling. It was more important to travel at a consistent pace than wear out in the early stages of the paddling. I took up the front position in the canoe, Natalie in the middle sitting on a milk crate, and Jason took up steering duties in the rear. We started synchronizing our strokes with Natalie and I paddling on the same side and Jason the loner on the other side. That’s one thing we gained from the clinic – we learned what it took for us to make the canoe go straight. I set the pace and Jason would interrupt every few minutes with a “hut” telling us to switch sides. I concentrated on the technique more than anything else – Jason had told us that the technique was what let you paddle for long periods of time.
We followed the meandering Little Maumelle River perfectly – with Jason’s expert steering, and our consistent paddling, we followed the stream going exactlly where we wanted. But remember how I said it was our least practiced area? Well, not long after we started paddling, my shoulders and back started getting stiff, and I could feel my strength starting to ebb. Not good. We had only traveled a couple of miles and still had a good eight miles left. I hoped it was just an initial bout of fatigue and that I could work through it. I stopped for a few minutes to rest and stretch which seemed to help.
The curving stream seemed endless – as we rounded one bend, we’d see another one not far ahead. And the whole time we paddled down Little Maumelle River, we saw neither hide nor hair of any other teams. Other than the clock, there was nothing to measure our progress against. While resting my weary muscles, I took a look at the map to study the series of checkpoints we would need to find. The first one (CP12) was easy – it was located at the boat launch at Maumelle Park. As soon as we entered the Arkansas River, we would make a right turn and go downstream a short distance to the boat ramp. The following checkpoint (CP13) was where we had to make some critical decisions that could either gain us some time or put us even further behind. As far as we could tell, CP13 was located on the north side of the Arkansas River, at the far interior of an inlet off the river, close to the Maumelle Country Club. There were two ways to get to the CP: 1) Inland: Paddle almost directly across the river from CP12, beach the canoe, find the golf course and then find the CP, or 2) Paddle downstream approximately a mile to the entrance to the inlet, and then paddle back upstream approximately ¾ of a mile. Option 1 definitely required the least amount of paddling, and if we could find the CP quickly, we could potentially make up some time. However, we didn’t know what the opposite shoreline was like, and it could require some serious bushwacking to find the CP. Option 2 required more paddling and probably would take longer having to backtrack, but the CP would be very easy to find. So we were weighed with a decision to make: whether to risk the harder search with less traveling, or to do the obvious, but spend more energy doing so. We decided we would wait until we reached CP12 to make a decision.
After several more sinuous bends in the channel, we finally reached the junction with the Arkansas River. Hallejulah! It was then that we spied 4 or 5 canoes ahead of us, making the long paddle across the river, seemingly headed towards CP13. This buoyed our spirits as we finally spotted our nearest competitors. With renewed energy, we paddled hard toward the boat ramp and reached it fairly quickly. Just in time as I desperately needed a bathroom break. While I raced up the hill to use the public restrooms, Natalie & Jason studied the map to decide which option we would use for CP13. It seemed like all the teams just ahead of us decided to use option 1 so we followed in suit.
Shoving off, we put our backs into the paddling, hoping to gain some time against our competitors who were within eyeshot. By this time, the teams we spotted as we entered the river were already beaching their canoes and setting off on foot to find the checkpoint. While the distance to cross the river didn’t seem very far on paper, it was definitely the most difficult stretch of paddling during the entire leg. Out in the middle of the river, we didn’t have any shoreline to gauge our progress against, and it seemed like we were crawling along. Plus we had to travel slightly upstream so we had the current to fight against as well.. After a good long time, the distant shoreline grew larger in our sights and then we finally reached our destination.
We first tried to shoot a bearing directly to the CP and thought to bushwack straight to it. But we were foiled by very heavy undergrowth. Plus we didn’t know precisely where we landed the canoe so we backtracked to find the golf course. This definitely cost us some valuable time. Even once we found the golf course, it took a bit of walking before we got to the general location where the CP was located. We cut through some heavy brush, and was greeted by the CP marker…on the other side of the inlet on which we were standing. Jason quickly stripped off his pack and I handed him the passport as he waded across the muddy inlet to get the “passcode”. As soon as he got back, we set off on a run back to the canoe. Natalie made a decision to cut through some of the undergrowth despite our doubts as to where exactly our canoe was beached. But the dear woman led us directly back to the canoe, shaving minutes off of our return trip.
By now, the gray overcast day had blossomed into full sunshine, and sweat poured off of our bodies as we strained and pulled with the paddles. We had just established a fast pace, pushing the canoe as fast as we could get it to go when all of the sudden, Natalie violated the number one rule in canoeing: “NEVER let go of your paddle.” A sudden gasp led me to turn my head only to see Natalie’s paddle go floating off some fifteen feet behind the canoe. We executed a quick U-turn and managed to get her paddle back without too much difficulty, but that little incident killed our momentum and cost us at least several minutes of time, which we could ill-afford to lose.
Onward we paddled toward CP14, where we would be taking out of the river. CP14 was located about a ½ mile inland at Two Rivers Park, approximately 2-3 miles from where we currently were. I did not look forward to having to portage the canoe that far inland, especially as fatigued as we would be after the canoeing leg. Little did I know at that point in time that portaging the canoe was the least of my worries.
We paddled hard while angling downstream to hit the far bank close to the CP. We only spied one other canoe ahead of us at this point. Any teams further downstream were hidden by the blinding glare from the sun. I at least took heart in that our strongest discipline still remained. I knew we definitely could make up some time on our bikes and perhaps move back into the middle of the field.
After paddling for what seemed like hours, our muscles and joints screaming at us in agony, we finally made it to the canoe take out point, a muddy beach with the bank a good three or four feet above the water. We offloaded our gear and tossed it up onto the bank. While Natalie scrambled up the bank and got our gear in order, Jason and I manhandled the canoe up and over the edge of the bank. I scrambled up behind Jason and peered into the distance to see where we had to take the canoe. The quarter mile trek sure seemed a lot further now that we were actually there. With Natalie carrying our canoeing gear, Jason and I got the canoe up over our shoulders and started staggering towards to the drop-off point.
The canoe was heavy, but not unmanageable. It wasn’t until we were thirty feet into our march through the grassy field that agony assailed my ankles and legs. The seemingly innocent grassy field was actually the abode of millions of sharp, spiny thistles that attached themselves to my socks with a fervor equaling that of a blood-crazed boar. With every step that I took, I felt sharp, stinging sensations piercing my delicate skin. I could hear Jason cursing under his breath as he was in a similar predicament. Natalie, on the other hand, seemed to walking through a field of clover, as she didn’t seem to mind at all. It’s those damn running tights I tell ya – I made a mental note to wear something like that for next year’s race.
After enduring several minutes of sheer agony, with my arms fatigued to the point where I could barely hold up the canoe, we finally made it to the drop-off point. We still couldn’t see any other teams in the vicinity. But we finally made it to the biking portion of the race, I was glad for that. We still had to hike approximately a half mile to the transition area where we would hook up with our support crew to get our bikes. By this point, the pleasant sunshiney weather had turned worse, with ominous storm clouds rolling in quickly and a heavy breeze picking up. The forecast did not look good at all.
We arrived at the transition area without any fanfare or cheering. In fact, with exception to our support crew and race staff, the place was deserted. The first order of business was to get out of my damn socks which were still covered with thistles. There didn’t seem to be any permanent damage to my ankles, but you could’ve fooled me with the million of needle shots I felt like I received.
We refilled our food & drink as quickly as we could, eager to get on our bikes to try to make up some headway on the teams ahead of us. Thanking our support crew and telling them we’d see them at the finish, we sped off onto the paved trail that would lead us to CP ??. As we rode against a furious headwind, we felt the first raindrops start to pelt us from head to foot. We were definitely in for some wet weather. We contemplated stopping to pull out our wet weather gear, but decided to hold off until we reached the next checkpoint, only a few minutes away.
Speeding down the trail we had known so well, we turned the corner and was greeted by a surprising sight – a bottleneck of approximately 15 teams all sitting or standing around. Apparently, the incoming storm had kept the teams ahead of us from getting out onto the water, which was good news for us. In a matter of moments, we had made up at least an hour’s worth of time. Suddenly, we were back in the thick of things and contemplating the “surprise element” of the race. Each year the race directors try to introduce some sort of “surprise challenge”, and this year’s was a doozy.
When we plotted the points the night before, we had seen how one checkpoint was on the Two Rivers Park side of the Little Maumelle River, and the other checkpoint was on the Little Rock side by the boat ramp on River Mountain Road. We had brainstormed on how we were supposed to get across (zip lines? Building a raft? A bike ferry?) but left it inconclusive. It turns out, they provided each team with 3 55-gallon drums, three 2x4’s & a bunch of rope – and we were to make our own rafts, lash our bikes to it, and then paddle across the Little Maumelle River to the other side.
But seeing as how they weren’t going to let us on the river while it was threatening to storm, we didn’t have much to do as we rested and waited. At one point, the race directors gave each team the option of forgoing the raft building & paddling, and having their team shuttled across in a motorized flat-bottomed boat, although they would be penalized an hour for taking that option. And the teams would be shuttled across in the order in which they reached the checkpoint. Considering the fact that we were one of the last teams there, we concluded that we would wait nearly as long just to get shuttled across the river as it would be to build a raft and paddle across, and that didn’t include the hour penalty. I think four or five teams opted for the shuttle, which bumped us up in line to build the rafts. After nearly a half-hour wait, we finally got our supplies and proceeded to build our raft. I was largely ineffective during this task, and Jason saved our butts with his knowledge of knots and ropes.
After lashing our bikes to the raft, we put into the water and started paddling. It was slow going because it wasn’t very efficient paddling sitting 3 feet above the water, added by the fact that the wind was picking up, and the water was fairly choppy. But by this point, we had only seen two other teams get shuttled across so we were glad that we had made the right decision. After fighting the wind and current for maybe 10-15 minutes, we finally get across to the boat ramp. No sooner than we get on our bikes and start riding down River Mountain Road under I-430, the skies completely opened up on us, soaking us within seconds.
But this was our strongest discipline in the race – cycling. A little (or more like the case, a LOT) of rain wasn’t really going to bother us too much. We sped down the road, finally glad to be moving at a fast pace. Jason was glad to get off his feet, and we hoped that with our strength in cycling coupled with the change in weather (that would discourage a lot of other teams) that we would pick up some positions in the race standings. Note that we hit the raft checkpoint two positions out of last place.
We found the checkpoint (an unmanned van) at the bottom of Jimerson Creek very easily (how can you miss a white van with a PVC pipe hanging out the back of it?) and then Jason scouted the trail in front of us as we started the ride up the trail that ran parallel to Jimerson Creek. It was still raining pretty hard, although nowhere as hard as when it first started. The ground was muddy & slippery, but we made it up the steep climb slowly without incident. At the top of the trail, we were finally back on pavement, but in an unfamiliar neighborhood, and faced with the decision of which road to ride up. We ended up choosing the wrong fork, which cost us several minutes and having to backtrack, and rode slowly up the hill towards Cantrell Road
Now we were finally back in our element, this part of town being Jason and Natalie’s backyard. We road through Reservoir Park, and took a few minutes to locate the checkpoint there as it wasn’t apparent from the map exactly where it was located. But as soon as we found that one, we were flying through the Leawood subdiviision, only having to stop to take a photo in front of Jason & Natalie’s new house (which they had just bought 3 days prior). Out onto Rodney Parham, and across to Serenity Drive. The next checkpoint was located along Grassy Flat Creek, about halfway between Rodney Parham Rd and Markham. Instead of bikewhacking down the now swollen creek, we took the adjacent road running parallel to the creek, and then cut across someone’s yard to the creek where the checkpoint was located. Unfortunately, the checkpoint was located on the OTHER side of the raging creek.
This time, I volunteered to get my feet wet, seeing as how they were already soaked. Holding the passport in my waterproof map case, I carefully made my way across the creek and punched the passport. Back on our bikes and we were headed for the next checkpoint along the paved bike trail that ran along Grassy Flat Creek. No sooner had we crossed Markham, Jason pulled up short and called for us to stop. Technical difficulties again as he punctured his rear tire. As he pulled his wheel off and attempted to change his tire, another team caught up and passed us. And we could see yet another team far off in the distance trying to cross the creek (where the water was raging even faster). After messing with my nearly ineffective frame pump for several minutes, we managed to flag down a team and borrow their pump. We were finally able to get moving again, and made it to the checkpoint.
Just before we could ride off to the next one, which was located at Boyle Park, one of the race directors came up to us and told us that they were redirecting racers to skip Boyle Park (since it was getting late) and head directly to Robinson Center in downtown Little Rock where the rappelling was. Fair enough – we knew we would be penalized for missing those checkpoints, but we really wanted to do the rappel. So off we rode, back to Markham which would take us downtown. After manuevering past several curbs/sidewalk combinations, Natalie pulled up short having got a pinchflat as she rode up and over a curb. Another twenty minutes pass as we struggle to replace her flat fire.
Wet, tired, and frustrated, we were now determined to head to Robinson directly, even though we could’ve picked up a couple of checkpoints along the way. We laid out a route and sped off on our bikes, making excellent time. Unfortunately, by the time we got to Robinson, they had closed the rappel to racers just five minutes earlier. “If only we hadn’t gotten those flats…” we thought. Oh well, that’s part of the race. At least we were close to being done. We watched the rappelers for a few minutes, and then decided to call it quits and head for the finish line. By now, the rain had let up but it was still a constant drizzle and the temps had fallen to around 50 degrees. Officially, we crossed the finish line at 7:50pm, nearly a full 15 hours after we had started that morning. When the race results were finally posted, we found out that we had finished in 34th place out of 52 teams. Not bad considering that we were in 50th place at one point. That said a lot about our determination and refusal to quit, despite encountering injuries, mistakes, bad weather, and technical difficulties.
The only thing left to do was to take a ride on the zip line which ran from the RR bridge, over a portion of the Arkansas River, and ended at the Riverfront Amplitheater. That was quite thrilling and quite a fun reward for finishing the race.
