Shenandoah River Adventure Race 2026

     The thought of doing a race in the exact same location three years in a row may sound repetitive and unchallenging, but that couldn't be further from the truth. At least not when the race is located in such a gem of a park. The 2026 Shenandoah River Race was a whole new level of awesomeness, even on my third year of tackling it. I just can't get enough of the splashy Shenandoah and the addicting flowy trails of the Shenandoah River State Park. Add into that, racing with one of my favorite teammates, and you have an idea of why I happily keep coming back.

    The two previous rounds of doing this race were with my daughter, Annika. The first year we tackled the 6 hour course, and won 1st place in the 2 person female division. She "survived" and was willing to up the ante and take on the 12 hour course the following year. We rocked it again and laid claim on first in our division for a second year in a row. It was becoming a much loved and anticipated yearly tradition, so we signed up for round three as soon as registration opened. 

After an entire season away from home working at a summer camp, Annika's priorities shifted, as any 16 year old's would. The lure of a week at a beach house with friends won over the option to sweat, suffer, and stretch herself out on the trails with her momma. I was bummed, but I also remember being that age. I want her to want to do these races; never to be forced into doing them. So there I was. Teammateless. I've never done a race solo. It really doesn't sound like a good time to me.

    Who could I convince to join me? Duh!! BECKY! Thankfully, she was all for this option. After racing together on a team for 5 days at the beginning of the summer, we knew we were teammate magic. We had both been itching for a chance to try racing on a team with just the two of us, and here was our chance. She agreed, the race director agreed, and it was set. 

As fate would have it, about 2 days after the roster had been changed from "Wild and No Longer a Child" (Annika and my team name) to "Irritatingly Optimistic" (Becky and my team name) Annika's plans for the beach trip fell through. She was honest with me and said she still really didn't have a desire to race, but was totally bummed to have no plans for the weekend. I suggested she and Owen, my oldest son, come along for the trip and either volunteer for the race, or have their own non-race pace adventures out on the trails while I zoomed around with Becky. She and Owen agreed and we made plans to head out to Front Royal Virginia the next day.

We packed up the van, gave tight squeezy hugs to Chris and the boys, and were headed west by 11:30  on Friday morning. The ride over was full of silly shenanigans in the van as we sipped on iced coffees, milkshakes, and smoothies and crept our way through the chaos of DC yet again. I think google maps has it out for me and constantly sends me through the depths of that city far more often than the outer loop of 495. We pulled into our hotel by 3:30 and settled into our room for about an hour before heading back out for dinner and a quick trip into Walmart. 

Race check in was at Down River Canoe Company on Friday evening, right on the banks of the Shenandoah. As soon as I saw Becky I gave her a huge hug and a few squeals of excitement. Nick was there as well with a big smile and hug. GRIT, owned by Nick and Jesse, had taken over the race from REV3 and were a spectacular company to continue the tradition.. Becky had signed up for the GRIT ambassador program and was fulfilling her duties by helping to hand out packets. The majority of racers had already been through, so she was able to sneak away for a spell so we could do some map planning together. We set up shop on coolers and cardboard boxes.

Within a few minutes we had a plan. A big plan. We were going to try to clear the course. It would be tight, and we had a few hard time goals set just in case things got sticky, but we really had feeling like it was possible. Nick bebopped over and agreed we could do it. I wasn't sure if he actually knew our capabilities, or if he was just being super encouraging, but his support in our decision was awesome. Mapping out a plan to clear a course is actually quite a bit easier than picking and choosing what points to grab. If you are getting them all, you just have to pick the most efficient route to all of them.

The sun was setting, and we were running out of daylight to look at the maps. All we had left to do was write in the clues, which we could do on our own at our hotel rooms. Annika and Owen had been out walking around the park while we were mapping, and came looking for me. They were ready to go back to the hotel, too. Jesse and Nick offered for them to clear some of the course the next day if they were interested. I thought it was a great idea, but I think Annika didn't want to feel any pressure to navigate. They were just looking forward to biking the fantastic trails and putzing in the river.

As we were leaving, Becky said something about navigating on the bike and it suddenly hit me that I had forgotten something in my hasty packing.  For the second time, when packing for a race without my highly organized and always prepared husband, I had forgotten my ding dang bike board. I knew I had been cocky and not taking it seriously since this was "just a piddly 12 hour race and not a 5 day expedition race," but that had now bit me in the butt. Looks like Becky was the lead navigator for the bike leg! I would just have to be back up. We were in good hands either way.

The race had a 5 hour course and a 12 hour course. Uncharacteristically, the 5 hour was starting first at 8:30 and we wouldn't be shooting off until 9, though we had a short bus ride to our start line. With such a late start time, and with our maps already marked and plans set, I only needed to be to the site by 8:15 for the race briefing. I planned to get there by 7:45 just to be safe and have a chance to stage my gear in Becky's Jeep since Annika and Owen would be using our van as their chariot though out the day. Getting two teenagers out the door at 7:30 reminded me why I'm so happy we homeschool and that I don't have to fight them with this task 5 days a week. Becky sent me a message at 7:50 asking if we were up yet. We were, and we were on our way, finally!

I parked on the far side of the field and hauled by bike, paddle gear, and a few bags over to Becky's car, and then handed the keys over to Annika and gave both her and Owen hugs and wishes for a fun and safe day. Becky and I got ourselves together and walked over to the GRIT arch for the briefing. Jesse gave out a few pointers, suggestions, and encouragement to the field of racers. Directly after that, the 5 hour racers shot off on their adventure and we were shuffled over to awaiting buses for transportation to our off site start location. 

After a quick 10 minute bus ride, we pulled into a small clearing in the woods on the shoreline of the Shenandoah. There were just a few canoes and a whole fleet of bright yellow kayaks. As expected, soloists would have the kayaks, and any team with 3 members would take a canoe, but also take a kayak rather than have to have their third person perched uncomfortably on the center rung of the canoe. Still, it dawned on me that there wasn't a very large field of racers for this course. There were only 24 teams in total with 10 of those being soloists. Women weren't very well represented either. Out of 38 racers, only 7 were ladies. I love it when ladies are well represented, but its also kinda cool when there is just a smattering of us in a race. It's like we're the minority and have to band together. Becky and I say hi to everyone we meet out on the trails, but we're always especially excited to see other women being awesome out there.

Becky and I filed into line to grab a canoe and hefted it down to the river's edge. The prologue for the race was to paddle upstream, against the current, to the one and only mandatory point on the course, located a little over a kilometer away. Everyone lined up along the shoreline in their boats and waited for the go ahead from Jesse. He did a countdown and set us off at precisely 8:59am. Full of adrenaline and fire, Becky and I shot out, paddling hard. We may have even had the lead for a moment, but eventually fell into 4th-ish place, ping ponging with a few other teams. We had a strong pace going, but not too strong to strike up a conversation with Jeremy from Broad Run Off Road. He was taking the course on as a soloist. I always enjoy talking to him and took the chance to ask how his team was getting along with the plans for hosting Nationals next year. He didn't give away any secrets, but made us all the more excited for that race next October.

We were the 5th team to punch CP 10 (obviously, the CPs were not listed in any order) and we turned back down stream to begin our 12 mile paddle back to the state park. We had agreed our paddle pace on the prologue was pushing it, and that we would back off once we got past the start, but we kinda kept it going. We kept it going so well that we remained with the front of the pack for the entirety of the paddle. The lead boat was never out of our sight!

Soon after we passed the start line, we came to the renowned Compton Rapids. With the foreknowledge to stay river right, we glided through with big smiles on our faces and just a little more water in our boat from the fun little hydraulics and rapids. It was such a great way to start that long haul of a paddle. The clouds were hiding the sun for most of the trip, but eventually they gave way and we started to bake in the late morning light. When we got to CP 11 which was tucked back on the side of a small peninsula, I paused to slather on some sunblock and shove an oatmeal cream pie in my face. Becky waded out through the shallow water to hit the CP, and I had the canoe pointed back downstream, ready to launch as soon as she plopped back in her seat. Other teams had the clever idea to leave their boats on the far side of the peninsula and trek back and forth through the stinging nettles, which appeared to save them some time. The nettle encounters made me happy with our decision to paddle around though. And within less than a mile we were back in our 4th place position. The next 2 CPs were directly on the river edge and required zero navigation savvy.  

 While we were certainly not lily paddling, we weren't red lining it either. It was just a solid, strong pace. Admittedly though, we did have a slight advantage over the heavier and lower sitting male boats. I'm no size 2, not even close, but Becky and my combined weight was much lighter than the guys, so we were able to nearly glide over many of the rocks and shallows that were beaching the guys. Also, we were reading the river pretty dang well and choosing clean lines to take. That combination helped us to pull out at the take out in 4th place, clearing all the paddle points without a hitch.  

We gathered our gear and were so surprised to be told to leave our canoe right where we beached. The 5 hour racers would be hopping in shortly. Fantastic! We climbed the short hill to the bridge that led back to the main TA and started walking across. We heard another team come trotting up behind us and pass us. Oh no no no. We weren't going to loose our lead on the field that easily. We picked up our pace and began a comfortable AR shuffle as I called out "Thanks for setting that standard for us, guys!"

 One final paddle point was located further down stream, but racers were given the option to punch it on foot rather than have to paddle back upstream after getting it in the boat. I don't think a single team went for it in the boats, us included. We jogged about a kilometer down a riverside trail and dropped down to the water's edge to officially punch our last paddle point.

While we were climbing back out of the river, Jeremy caught back up with us. He complimented us on our paddle speed stating "You guys are some powerful paddlers! I was honestly trying to keep up with you and was struggling to!" Flattery will get you no where. Just kidding. We were beaming for the entire kilometer run back to the TA. We grabbed our gear that we had dropped at the trailhead and I bee-lined for the portapotties. We hit the check-in tent and punched the transition CP before heading over and swapping out our water shoes and visors for dry socks, kicks and helmets. Within minutes we were on our bikes and heading off into the park. 

The flow of the bike leg could be approached one of two ways. You could either stick to the river's edge along the Bluebell trail and get all the low points before climbing your way up into the higher trails and points, or start out screaming up a super steep trail and getting all the elevation and muscle abusing out of the way. We chose to abuse our muscles first and end the leg with a fast, level ride back to the TA. That first trail came upon us quicker than expected and we lost all our momentum to even try to ride it up. We pushed for the first 50 feet of elevation before the trail leveled out ever so slightly. 

Becky took the lead and we tore through the trails, whooping and smiling with every flowy turn and twist in the trail. We ticked off CP after CP, rarely passing any other teams along the way. With such a small field of racers, and such a great trail system, we felt like we had the run of the park. Eventually, we met back up with Jeremy and cruised along with him for just a short distance between two points before letting him scoot off at a bit of a faster speed. 

The park was separated in two sections by a lone paved road that was nearly completely off limits for racers. There was only a small sliver where we could cross over, and that was only into the woods, not a trail. Bushwhacking is challenging. Bike whacking is cumbersome. Bike whacking down a steep slope is just ridiculous. But when the options are that or riding an additional 2K and an additional 100 feet of elevation loss and gain, it makes the choice easy. We held onto our bikes as we descended a steep reentrant, using the brakes and bike as almost a stabilizer for the descent. It actually went much smoother than we thought it would. 

We popped out onto our intended trail and met up with a whole cackle of racers near CP 57. I've never known Nick to hide his CPs, but 57 was a cheap shot. Tucked behind a low rootstock, nearly on the ground, the CP had thrown a few teams for a loop before it was discovered by someone who gave a heads up to the rest of us. We all probably would have found it on our own, but it saved the rest of us a few minutes of frustrated searching. We continued on our planned route further and further up the trails. Where you would expect a slight breeze or at least SOME air movement, it seemed like the air up on Allen's Mountain was as still and hot as a sauna. 

We were out in the highest and furthest reaches of the course and coming to the point where we needed to make a time stamp decision. We had told ourselves if we weren't to a specific trail intersection by 3:30, we would have to drop 2 bike points located nice and low, but still further from the TA. We checked our time and nearly squealed with delight when we realized we were almost an hour ahead of that time cut off. We knew we were doing well, but that was such a shot of excitement to know we were really crushing even our own estimates!

By this time we were consistently ping ponging with a few other teams. All of which were all male teams. We offered to let them pass us when they would catch up with us on the trail, but we were repeatedly told to keep going and that they didn't think they would maintain a lead on us for long. I'm not anywhere near an amazing mountain biker, but it proved to me that I am able to hold my own and deserve a place out on the course. 

We eventually dropped back down to the lowest trails and painlessly picked off the final 6 CPs of the bike leg along the river. On our final half kilometer of the trail we ran into our buddies on team Wildstyle and cheered them on. Directly after seeing them, I noticed a black rubber hose stretching across the trail and wondered in my head why on earth that was just laying so out of place. As I approached it at the super zippy speed we were cruising along at, I began to notice the rubber hose was slithering. By the time I realized I was getting ready to plow over a large black snake it was too late to veer off my trajectory. I shot right over it's back, my feet retracted as high up into my neck as I could get them, as it recoiled and sprang out in defense mode at my rear tire. The entire time this was going down I held an octave of scream that would probably impress an opera singer. I bet it was a sight to behold.

We came storming into the TA and screeched to a stop at the TA tent where we were all smiles and beaming with pride that we had cleared the course so far. Jesse and Nick gave us fist bumps, high fives, and poured even more encouragement on us. We were on such a beautiful adrenaline high! We transitioned quickly and noticed Annika and Owen pulling in to the parking area in our big monster van. We cut through the parking lot, climbed through a fence and met up with them on the trail. They had had a great day so far, playing out on the trails and going back to the hotel for a little chill time and a quick walk to Starbucks for a bougie lunch. I poured out our excitement and elation at our unfolding race to them as we passed a baggie of Cheetos back and forth. Soon enough, Becky and I had to turn off from the trail and begin our attack on the final leg of the race. 

We started out with the plan to hop into a reentrant that would lead us to CP 20, but quickly pivoted on our plan, returned to the trail, and shot up a far less vegetated hillside. The incline was steep and it pulled out the little remaining reserves I had after our hard fought bike leg. By the time we got to the top of the trail, I felt discouragingly drained. We agreed that we would have to pace ourselves on this leg and slow down when we felt like we needed a breather. Being on a team that places experience above results is such a blessing. I honestly think its the way we felt comfortable enough to hold back and pace ourselves that kept us going so strong for so long. We never redlined, but we never stopped. It was a perfect clutch of pushing and pulling back.

To bag CP 20, we tried something I have never pulled out of my toolbox of navigational tricks. Mainly because I've never really known about it. Contouring was totally new to me, but it made sense for this CP. We were at the correct elevation for the CP, just on the far side of a few variably sized reentrants. Becky explained that if we hugged the reentrants, keeping the same elevation, it SHOULD lead us directly to our CP. Hot dang. We dropped DIRECTLY on top of our goal. Like to the point where I, again, felt like we were working with some sort of sorcery. When we had first shot off the trail, another racer came cruising past us and headed off in a direct azimuth from the trail intersection just ahead of us. We had the momentary thought to do the same, but I said, "Let's do our own thing and see how it goes." I'm so glad we did. Because we never saw him again anywhere near the CP. Go us!

Enjoying the confidence boost, we kept trucking along the trails to our next CP located in another reentrant about a kilometer away. Along the way, Annika and Owen passed by us on their bikes, still enjoying the flowy trails and winding paths of the park while the low rumbles of thunder began in the distance. I was ready for the forecasted storm to get there already. We were so stinking hot, even with temps only hovering in the low 80's. I had been mentally prepared to be racing in the pouring rain all day, but we had really only seen a few ominous clouds in the far distance.

We kept up the dead on navigation for the next 2 CPs. As we were heading out from CP 24, we heard a male team say to one another "those girls are bushwhacking out from here to the next CP!" Ok, so number 1: we're legit navigators, and can hold our own with the guys, but thanks for being impressed. But even more importantly: they called us GIRLS! Ha! Being in our 40's, its not often that we're labeled as such a youthful term, so we were again beaming with elation at being defined as something other than middle aged or even the dreaded "old." We did have a good chuckle at it as we shot through the woods to two trails over. 

After hitting our next CP, again straight on without a hitch, we ran into another female, finally! It was Allie! I had met her at my hotel the evening before and struck up a conversation with her after I noticed her wearing a Spring Bloom Adventure Race shirt. The three of us palled around for the next kilometer or so, over trails and through some dense bushwhacking. Once we found our selves back on a real trail with an ascertained position, she said she needed to pause to get her maps together for a moment and that she would see us around on the course. I think our less than easy route had given her the idea that hanging with us wouldn't be all sunshine and lollypops. But we had enjoyed chatting and suffering together for a while. 

Once we crossed back over the off limits road, or as we came to call it, the "no no" road, we were faced with the same steep descent into the reentrant we had conquered with our bikes in tow just a few short hours ago. We decided to just plow down the decline and drop right into the dry creek bed as directly as possible. Luckily, we found a well traveled path that led us directly to the trail we were hoping to find. We climbed back up Allens Mountain for the second time that day and were able to hit CPs 29 and 31 perfectly. At CP 31 we had another hard time stop set, this time for 8pm. I think we arrived around 7, which sounds like a huge time cushion, be we figured we still had at least a 1.5 hour trek back to the TA from the furthest point on the flats. And, we had at least another kilometer of steep trail between us and there. It was looking good, but barely. We had originally planned to bushwhack through some steep no man's land, but decided staying on trails and running the downhills would be faster. 

Over the next 30 minutes we jogged down, trekked up, and ran down multiple trails before finally leveling out back near the river. Crossing paths with a four person male team, they asked if we were heading out to CP 28. When we told them it was our plan they said they were scrapping it because they didn't think they had enough time. We told them we had to live up to our team name and were going for it as we ran off ahead of them. We took a right and headed over to the very furthest out point for the leg which was nestled in a small reentrant and hanging from a wee little sapling. After punching that point, although we still had five more CPs and approximately a 5K between us and the finish line, it felt like we had it in the bag. We agreed to walk at the briskest pace our legs could carry us, reserving any running for the final stretch to the finish if time got away from us. 

The snake I had hit earlier on my bike had sent out his brother to avenge his honor. I almost stepped right on yet another "random black rubber tube" in the trail, but caught myself at just the last second and jumped to the side. I'm not usually overwhelmed at those dang nope ropes, but i let out a scream akin to a horror movie bimbo. Becky joined in the scream, really not knowing what caused me to flip out, but crying out in solidarity none the less! Once we got ourselves together, we belly laughed at our damsel in distress reactions. Who did we think we were? Because we were some bad @$$ mammer jammers. Not fail, flighty, fairies!

By the time we hit CP 23, we knew we were going to clear the course. Barring any major catastrophe in the last mile or so, we even had a time cushion. Unreal. The sun was almost completely set, and there were still low rumbles of thunder and the occasional flash of distant lightening. Refusing to stop for any reason, we dug through our packs and dawned our headlamps without slowing down. As we neared the final CP, we were aiming our headlamps into the woods when we simultaneously caught the flash of the reflective patch on the flag. We both screamed out "THERE IT IS!!" And with that, our final checkpoint was punched and we cleared the entire course. We high fived, giggled, yipped and jumped with excitement! 

Everything in us was itching to run at this point, the finish was right there!! We walked faster and faster until it just didn't make sense to walk anymore and we started jogging. By the time we crawled through the fence and the crowd around the finish saw our headlamps, we started running. And by the time the cheers and hoots and hollars started up, we were nearly sprinting. We crossed under the arch together, Becky tagged the finish, and we screamed out "WE DID IT!!" as we jumped up and down hugging each other. The time clock showed 11:26. We had made it with all the points with more than 30 minutes left on the clock. What, what?!! 

We made our way to the tent and handed over our e-punch and tracker while we poured out our excitement and joy onto other racers, race staff, and Nick and Jesse. We each grabbed a slice of pizza and a soda and stood around talking with all our AR comrades. As luck would have it, within a few minutes of finishing, the rain finally began to fall. Annika and Owen pulled in to the parking lot at precisely 8:30, just like I had asked them to do. I wanted to tell them how we did, and pack up as much of my gear before everything was drenched. I hauled everything over and gave them an update on our race. They were excited enough to be honestly pumped for us, but not enough to leave the dry van and come out into the rain for the awards. Totally cool. 

I walked back over to Becky and we were told the awards would be done in a pole barn just beyond the tent. The rain began to pour as we walked in, and we found a spot to chat with friends. We chatted for a few minutes before awards began. With a small field of racers, it didn't take long to hand out all the accolades. Being as Becky and I were the only 2 person female team, we got 1st in our division. Cool. Third year in a row for me! I was more interested in how we did overall for this one. After a few thanks and hints about upcoming races Jesse and Nick were organizing, I scurried up to the podium and asked two super sweet young volunteers if they could tell me how Becky and I did in the whole line up. Eventually they were able to tell us they "thought" we had earned our way to 6th overall! Nice!

The day was absolutely awesome. Becky and I agreed we had pushed when we could, avoided any misery, made some fantastic memories, navigated like bosses, and really enjoyed the race to the max. We couldn't have asked for a better experience. I have been so blessed with plenty of awesome teammates throughout the few years I've been doing this AR business. Some have pushed me to be a better athlete, some have pushed me to be a better navigator, some have pushed me to be a better person. Becky and I pushed each other to do all the above, and we did it while really enjoying ourselves. Honestly, what more could we ask for?

Endless Mountains 2026 Post Race and Reflections

 

Once we had settled down from the high of crossing the finish line, the joy didn't wear off. It may have been a delirious, nearly stuporous joy, but man. It felt good. We dropped our bikes in the bushes and walked inside the dorm to the awaiting smorgasbord of burrito deliciousness provided by Rootstock and one of the loveliest volunteers we had had the pleasure to cross paths with out on the course. We stuffed our bellies for the next hour, sprawled out on the lounge chairs and couches of the dorm. I felt the slightest bit of guilt sitting on "indoor furniture" in my current state of filth, but I figured the nonporous vinyl could be easily wiped down. 

We sat and swam in the tales of adventure all the teams around us were pouring out while we also regaled them with some of our own. It was the definition of gezellig. (That's a Dutch word that really has no English translation, but it fits the mood of our time spent on those couches. Look it up.) 

Soon enough we started the process of getting our gear under control. Becky and I went back out to the bikes and hauled them, one last time, over to our cars and loaded them up. We found our gear bins and did the same. While we were waiting for the bike boxes to get unloaded and sorted, we stopped to talk with Abby for just a few minutes. She really is a pillar of inspiration and encouragement. We know we didn't do all that amazing on the score sheet. If we weren't in dead last place we would have been shocked (spoiler, we were shocked) But Abby poured out congratulations on us and wanted to hear a few of our tales from the race. She tested the waters to see if we had had an experience that we would maybe someday repeat. While I couldn't with any confidence say that an exact repeat of our team would race together again, I assured her that Becky and I had all the motivation and plans to do this whole expedition race thing together again. Abby hinted that all female teams were pretty awesome. I had to agree. Every time I've raced on an all-female squad it has been phenomenal. 

Once we were able to grab our boxes ,we lined them up and hauled them up to the gear room along with the paddle and packraft bags. I figured I needed to capitalize on the uncanny energy that I had at the time, so we sorted all the gear, broke down the bike box I had borrowed from Dan, and had everything completely prepped to be brought down to the cars before we ever sat down. I knew once I stopped moving I was done for. I decided to load up my car before I got my ever so coveted post-race shower for fear that my gear would foul me up again should I touch it after being bathed. 

So there. Everything that could be done was done. Now to strip myself of the 5 days of filth. What an experience a shower is after an expedition race. I timed my bathing perfectly and was able to use the handicap private bathroom closest to our room. Thank the Lord. Because I used up every inch of that huge bathroom all to myself. I peeled my layers of clothing off and just plopped them on the floor. I surgically removed the wrapping from my toes and pulled the leukotape from my heels. Once my braids were unwound and the tree trash was picked from my hair, I stood facing the mirror. That body that I sometimes think is so far from perfect, and in need of so much work, had done some amazing things for me. I always give myself grace in certain areas of critique, because carrying five babies, delivering them, and feeding them required a lot from my body, but now I felt like I could demand a little more forgiveness from my hardest critic; me. That body in the mirror was strong, resilient, and capable. You go girl. 

I gasped, sighed, and nearly wept as the hot, cleansing water covered me. What a treat to be clean. I knew many other racers were crossing that finish line and would also be in desperate need of a shower soon, so I tried not to linger under the life-giving spray of indoor delightfulness for too long. Though it was probably at least a 20-minute shower, it felt like I was as fast moving as I could possibly be. 

Once I was moisturized, untangled, and dressed, I shuffled back to our room. Dan was already well into a good slumber, and Becky was puttering around for just a few more minutes. I tried to call my family, but none of them are exactly morning people, so I left messages that I would call them all back after my well-earned nap. And then, I crashed. Like I don't remember hitting the pillow, I kinda don't even recall laying down. I just crashed. No dreaming, no rolling over, no checking the clock. Just a deep, deep sleep.

The Post race dinner was perfect. The whole field of racers, hobbling around in open toed shoes, loose fitting clothing, and fresh-ish, clean faces, drinking ciders, beers, and lots and lots of water. The meal was devoured like only a flock of calorie depleted racers can. We shared a table with our tag-team B&Z and Jim even came and pulled up a chair with us. It was a heartily enjoyed meal with some of my favorite people from the race. I only wish we had more mobility and energy to mingle with all the other teams that we shared a moment or two with out on the course.  Awards were handed out, and congratulations and thanks were poured onto all teams. 

 We didn't win anything. Well, I won a drawing for a Women of AR beanie, which I love! But Irritatingly Optimistic did not podium. Nine teams were either non-competitive or DNF'd.  Later we found out we got 31st out of 34 official finishing teams.  I'm still having a hard time even laying claim on that standing. Becky and I worked hard for all the points we punched, but our team as a whole cannot honestly say we visited every CP together. If that strips us of our placement, I'm totally ok with it. Because even if we came in dead last, I wouldn't have done anything different in the situations we were in. You just have to do your very best with what you have to work with.

If I hadn't enjoyed that second (or was it third?) cider, I probably would have attempted to drive home that night. With the race being officially over and sleeping one more night the only thing left to do, the draw of my real life and family began to take over. When we returned to the dorm, I excused myself and walked down to the courtyard to go make all the phone calls I had been putting off. My husband put me on speaker phone in the middle of the dinner table while he and the boys chowed down. They asked all the questions and I told all the stories for about a half hour. It made me miss them all the more. I then called Annika, my daughter who is working at a summer camp, and was able to chat with her for about an hour. I would see her the next day on my way home. 

While I was conversing with my loved ones, Dan sent a message to the group that he was heading out to grab his victory bottle of whiskey that he always purchases, but never drinks, after a race. I didn't feel the need to tag along on that adventure. I don't think Becky was able to pull herself away from talking with her family either. I walked back to the dorm slowly, admiring just how swollen and puffy my lower extremities had become. It was impressive!

I planned to leave the college before the sun came up, so before laying down that night I said my goodbyes to my teammates. We had done what we had set out to do. Mission accomplished. There wasn't an emotional or deeply meaningful conversation. Just a quick hug, thanks for the experience, and hop into bed. The next morning I was on the road by 4:30am and sat outside a gas station for a few minutes waiting for them to open at 5 so I could grab a lifegiving cup of coffee. A slightly spastic gentleman was also waiting and asked about my bike on the back of my car, so I chatted with him for a few minutes and gave him a crash course in Adventure racing. I don't know if he absorbed anything I said, but he said he was going to give the sport a try the very next weekend. 

The ride home was long and uncomfortable, but soothing. I'm really starting to think I may have more introverted tendencies than I had thought. Arriving in Bernville PA, I spent a few hours with Annika, going out to lunch at a cute little American Diner and swinging in the hammocks on top of Calvary Hill. I then continued on to lower Delaware and 4 hours later pulled into our driveway to my flock of sons, all scurrying out to greet me. I had been itching for those adoring hugs for a while. They helped me to unload my packed car and within an hour most of my gear was either laid out to air out or already put away. I decided to just dump all my gross, gross, GROSS clothing and shoes into an empty bin, fill it with water from the hose and add my strongest detergent. My youngest, Calvin, stirred the vat of ungodliness with a huge stick like a sorcerer stirring a poisonous brew. We put the lid on it and called it a day. 

The next few days consisted of recovery, eating, watching the swelling in my legs slowly go down (I had gained and lost over 12 pounds of fluid!!) and swinging in to see my PCP. Remember that nasty fall I had had on stage C? It wasn't feeling much better by two days out, so just to be safe I had a visit to my primary, who ordered a x-ray and antibiotics. No fracture, though!! But I'll certainly have a pretty triangular scar on that shin for many years to come. 

If you've stuck with me through this entire race report, I'm honored. It's such a blessing to do these crazy races, and I never want to forget the tiny details and feelings I have when I'm out on the course. I know some things may have seemed pointless to include, and there may have been times when you thought "wait! what happened then?!" But overall, I think you've gotten an idea of how the race went for me. I have to apologize for a few of the earlier stage reports. I've gone back and edited some sections, so if you read them hot off the press, you were privy to a bit more emotion than necessary. My goal of these write ups isn't to bash anyone and certainly not to be a negative Nancy. Honesty is one thing, bad mouthing in another. Lo siento. 

If you were race staff, I can't thank you enough. The uplifting and encouraging words you gave us over and over really helped us. Home is a loose term sometimes, but you guys made every TA feel like home. Sometimes a wet, muddy, and loud home, but still a place of reprieve, nonetheless! Brent and Abby, you guys are something special. Your races both terrify me and excite me like none other. From my very first AR at Two Rivers in 2021, to this monster I just endured, your courses have led me into becoming something I never knew I had in me.  Who knew the girl who couldn't navigate her way home without calling her dad for directions would someday co-navigate nearly 300 miles with a map and compass? Crazy. 

If you're a fellow racer, I saw you. Whether you were front of the pack, mid pack, or tagging along, bringing up the rear with us, I saw you. You made me smile, made me feel validated, and made me proud. We are a special breed, and our solidarity and shared enjoyment of suffering makes us more alike than different. I don't know many of you outside of this sport, but what I do know of you makes me feel a kinship with you that is hard to replicate in any other area of my life. Thank you for letting me be a part of something so grounding. humbling, and strengthening. If we gave you a nickname, just know that even if I learn your name at some point, I'm still going to call you your nickname forever and always. It's now a term of endearment. 

If you were my teammate, holy cow. What an experience we shared. Dan, thank you. You might not realize it, but you helped me more than I could ever have helped you. Your knowledge of logistics and pacing opened the door to expedition racing for me. I like to jump into things a little too fast sometimes, often without thinking. Thank you for doing all the thinking for me. You taught me that not only am I so much stronger than I thought I was, but that I need to work on a few areas of my interpersonal skills. A lot. Becky, where do I start? I have never had a teammate I felt more in line with out on the course. We complimented each other's abilities so dang well. I never felt like I wasn't able to be myself, and I never once felt like my contribution wasn't appreciated or valued. Please know I valued you every step of the way. We can celebrate our little victories and the overwhelming amount of learning we did out there. I absolutely cannot wait to see where we go from here!

If you are family or friends at home, thank you. Thank you for listening to my plotting, whining, dreaming, and scheming. Thank you for at least smiling and nodding when I start to go down a rabbit hole about racing. I know me doing these races puts a toll on you all. From rearranging schedules, to entertaining bored boys, to worrying about me dying out there, your sacrifices and encouragement are valued and deeply appreciated. I know some of you still think I'm off my rocker, but if I haven't convinced you to try an expedition race by now, I'm probably still thinking of how best to word my encouragement that you try it.

And if you're 75-year-old Elke, I pray that you're still doing the things. It might not be 5-day expedition races, but I hope you're still doing things that scare you and excite you and stretch you. I hope you can read these posts and remember how it felt to be in those moments and experiencing those emotions. Racing wasn't (or hopefully isn't) the best part of your life. Nothing is above God or your family, but some things add to who you are as a person. Being out in nature and seeing the glory of His creation and using the body He has given you to do things He has already planned for you is a blessing I hope you have never taken for granted. Give all the family you have a tight squeezy hug from 43-year-old Elke. She's still out here making as many memories as possible and hoping she's made you proud and thankful for all our blessings. Now go and read the stories from all the other expedition races we've hopefully done since this first one. 

Endless Mountains 2026 Stage I

 Green Mountain National Forest

2/2 Mandatories

Walking out into the crisp night shocked us back into action. We had layered up knowing that the night time temps were enough to set an exhausted body into shivers, and I was happy to have all those layers on as we rode our bikes back up the long drive to Route 7. It was roughly around 1:15 am when we hit Route 7 and turned left, giving us over 8 hours to complete 20 miles "on bike." At the end of the driveway, a team was off their bikes tinkering with something. We thought it strange for anyone to stop so soon after leaving the TA, so we checked on them to see if all was well. I don't remember what their cause for stopping was, but it must not have been urgent, because they waved us on and didn't require any assistance.

After a tiny little road section, we turned left and back on the long gravel road we had walked up just a few hours before. Now, in the dark of night, and on bikes, the road looked totally different. Small gains in elevation aren't as noticeable when you're walking, but as you bike up these deceiving hills you get a rapid reminder of their presence. We had only climbed two small hills, with a refreshing downhill between, when we had to stop to take of multiple layers of clothing. 

We cruised all the way back down/up this route until we hit the intersection where we had converged from the Corridor Trail. We paused for a moment and oriented ourselves. I wish I could say I was a co-navigator for this section, but I have to admit my mind was goop and I couldn't contribute much. Becky was definitely leading, whether she realized it or not. 

We came to another intersection and again paused to ensure we were heading off on the correct trail. A smattering of other teams were also pausing here to figure out the maps. We saw some teams head off to the right, only to return quickly and stop to look at maps again. As we were discussing our navigational plans, I noticed we were right in front of a backwoods campsite that was obviously occupied by campers, probably attempting to sleep. You gotta wonder what's going through the heads of those people when they are awoken by a mass of racers in the middle of the night. If they had no heads up about our race, would they be terrified by all the headlamps, voices, and presence of dozens of mountain bikers at 2 AM? I would be! 

We eventually agreed to head to the left and set off on the bikes again. The road dropped us into a parking area with a narrow trailhead. We took the trail and were immediately faced with a few ruts, rocks, and elevation. Nothing too crazy...yet. We next came to another split in the trail and our buddies B&Z, who had left the TA while we were still on our time penalty. They had gotten a bit turned around out in the dark of the night. We all initially crossed a bridge thinking we needed to go right, but when we could see the direction the trail took after the creek crossing, we quickly realized it was not our intended route. While we stopped, I changed the batteries out on my headlamp that was doing it's warning blinking that it would soon go out completely. After I was situated, we returned to the far side of the creek and continued on the original trail we had been following.

 The trail became what you can only assume a trail would become when Brent Freeland plans a bike leg that he repeatedly emphasizes for you to not underestimate. While we weren't at the worst section, more of that to come later, we were also no longer on a trail I would choose "for funsies." The deep ruts and chaotically dispersed rocks made riding a little more challenging. Just to add to the morale-busting situation, with one slight collision I had with a rock, my headlamp came flying off of my helmet. Within a few minutes of that happening, while I was pushing my bike through a particularly rocky section, I noticed a rubber-rubbing sound coming from the back of my bike. Thank the Lord we were walking the bikes at the time, because my rear axle had come nearly completely loose and was wobbling every which way. I stopped to tighten it and became increasingly frustrated in our situation. The trail sucked, my energy level sucked, my bike-mechanic skills obviously sucked, the maps sucked, my biking abilities sucked. EVERYTHING SUCKED. Enter: personal pity party and self doubt.

Stopping was never an option in my mind, but I was at the point where I could not keep riding. Between the challenging trail, my accumulated exhaustion, and inundation of self loathing I needed to hike a bike rather than wreck-a-bike. I called out to Becky, who was still totally capable of riding a trail of that difficulty, that I needed to walk. She is such a patient and understanding teammate. She dismounted and watched as the group of other teams we had been hanging with continued on riding without a problem. The three of us continued on pushing our bikes for what felt like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes. 

We came to an area that we could tell was more open and very wet and marshy. The trail stayed to the left of the swamp, but the fetid waters began to creep onto the trail more and more. In the dark of the night, it was hard to tell which route was best when the trail would suddenly split into various go-around routes at particularly muddy sections. At one point we took a route to the right that brought us directly on the edge of a stream of swampy water. Far in the distance we could see the headlamps of other teams coming toward us. Oh for the love. If we had to turn around and retrace all those miserable steps it would undo me. We called out to them to see what was happening and they returned saying "No, we just took a wrong turn, keep coming this way!" Adventure racers are awesome people. 

We continued on the trail that would lead us to their whereabouts that was only like a quarter mile away. In that quarter mile we had to lift our bikes over at least 5 huge fallen trees, one after the other. If you're not aware, when it comes to mountain bikes, you get what you pay for. One of the factors you have to take into consideration when buying a bike is the weight. If you have the funds, a carbon frame is very much lighter, and obviously very much more expensive. I cannot claim to have an excess of funds that I can pour into gear, so I do not have a very light bike, though I am thankful for what I have! However, hauling that Trek xcaliber over tree after tree after tree really wiped any energy reserves I may have been holding on to. By the time we came to the intersection where we had seen the other team the three of us were nearly at our wits end. Even Becky seemed slightly short tempered. 

I had one of those moments that I can only say the Good Lord shakes you and puts something on your heart, and you just have to do it. Without thinking, I blurted out "Hey, wait a second Becky." She paused and looked back at me. I stopped for a moment to ensure I had her attention. "Thank you for doing this with me, I love you and I love doing this with you!" We all needed that snap back to reality. Yea the situation was so flipping crappy, but even the mud seeping into our shoes, blisters, chaffing, and general discomfort couldn't keep us down. We all hugged for a hippy-emotional moment and the world became a better place. 

We got back to business and kept on pushing through the muck and mire. After fording a flowing creek that seemed to clean the mud from our souls, we came upon a whole cackle of teams. Everyone was searching for CP 76 that appeared to be located on the northern shore of Lake Hancock. Racers were trekking back and forth, up and down, over and under all around the area. One guy passed us no less than three times before Becky jokingly said "Haven't we seen you before?" To which he responded "Yea, and you'll probably see me pass by a few more times before we find this CP." Becky laughingly suggested he bring snacks the next time he passed by, and from then through the rest of the race, and probably any time we see him in the future, he will be known as "Snacks."

Also in this cackle of racers were B&Z as well as ol' Tighty Whitey. It was like a delirious reunion of characters from the race, meeting up and suffering yet again deep in the woods of Vermont. Together with the other teams we spent about 30 minutes poking around the shoreline fruitlessly. I can't recall what time it was, but our team decided we had spent enough time searching and we were cool with dropping the point. Other teams began to call it as well. Together as a flock of racers, we all hopped on our bikes and started off again. 

It was short lived. Within minutes the herd arrived at another intersection. No one could make a decision, everyone's minds had nearly turned to mush in the late hour of the race. After what felt like five minutes of dawdling, I had enough of just standing and getting no where. I said "We'll be the Guinea Pigs!" and I lead our team to the left. I think most of the flock came along with us, and within a few hundred yards we all simultaneously spotted the small reflection of light bouncing off of CP 76 directly in front of us. One person from each team made the small trek into the woods and along the shoreline of Lake Hancock. 

The whole mass of teams set off together again heading south toward Seth Mountain. It was chaos. While I felt better, and was able to ride for short sections again, the trail was an absolute nightmare. Bog after bog of thick, split-pea-soup looking sludge lay before us. Becky quickly had enough of the herd mentality and called out for our team to pull over and let the mass of teams pass by us. Once they all passed by, we stopped for just a few minutes to give them a lead and we ate a few mood replenishing calories.

The trail did not ease up. We pushed and hauled our bikes up to Consultation Peak and then back down a PUD (pointless up and down) in the trail. Once the elevation leveled out, the fun didn't stop. Elevation was replaced with a swampy obstacle course. In fact, it seemed like the muckity muck and sloppity slop just intensified as we continued on. I can't express the amount of mud, knee deep soup, and rock laden "puddles" (more like ponds) we had to haul our bikes through. Eventually the bogs eased up just as the elevation crept in yet again. We gradually made our way over and around increasingly jagged rocks to the top of Seth Warner Mountain. We paused at the top, praying we had seen the worst of the trail. Dan took a quick 10 minute nap and Becky and I sat in the darkness, barely able to hold a conversation. She estimated we still had over four more hours of this trail before we would see a hard road. Oi.

To the East I began to see the slightest trace of light. Morning birds were just beginning their chatter. It was just what I needed, just when I needed it. We were in our very final morning of the race. No matter what, we would see the finish line that day. This stinking trail could throw whatever it wanted at us. We were going to make it. Trail: "Hold my beer."

We started down the far side of the mountain easily enough at first. Still far, far, FAR from rideable, but we were able to keep moving forward through the rocks, boulders, and increasingly spring fed waters of the trail. I can't claim that any point of the descent was easy. It was a challenge the entire way down. Just as before, the accumulation of water became puddles, then pools, and finally bogs and ponds. We came to a gate, seemingly randomly placed in the depths of the forest. I had a glimmer of hope that it signified an end to the ATV trail of horrors, only to still question it's existence to this day. 

We came to a much larger mass of water that was thanks to a very determined family of beavers. As we circumnavigated its boarder, I paused at the south side of the pond. I wished with everything that I had in me that we would see a moose, or some other amazing Vermont animal. I told Becky "I would forgive 50% of the mess we just went though if I could see a moose right now." She responded "I would forgive 100% if we could see a baby moose!" (We have not forgiven even 25% of our misery, even a few weeks out at this point.) Alas, no moose, baby or adult, was spotted that morning. 

By this time the sun had taken over and there was no more soul crushing darkness to dim our moods. Even though the trail wasn't all that improved, our moods were on the up and up. The trail leveled out ever so slightly, and Becky encouraged us to start riding when we could. The puddles kept appearing over and over. We totally gave up on walking through them and just YOLO'd it up by plowing through, praying the peanut butter mud and bone jarring rocks wouldn't grab us from the depths of the waters. 

We came to another gate and could see a powerline clearing just beyond it. Sweet Jesus!! It didn't have to be a paved road, all I wanted was something other than a ATV trail. We had two options at this point. Either back track up "Country Road" or locate the Appalachian Trail that also crossed this powerline clearing. We started to head toward Country Road but decided at the last minute to head down the shorter route over the AT. We rode what we could and hike a biked what we couldn't and eventually spotted our long awaited hard packed road to "salvation." As we approached the road we saw some racers speed past. Becky called back that it was Tighty Whitey and co! Ha! We had caught back up with the herd!

Once all three of us had climbed the final push to the road, we paused for a break to pop into the woods, eat a few calories, and shed some more layers of clothing. Giddiness was creeping into everything. We only had a few roads that stood between us and the finish line. I could feel my energy bubbling up from who knows where. Even Dan stating "I refuse to race into the finish" from his horizontal position on the ground couldn't bring me down. We were almost there!!!

We eased our tushes back onto our bikes and began peddling down Risky Ranch Road. Soon we began to pass cabins and houses. We were entering back into civilization. I had mixed feelings about it. I was certainly and unabashedly ready to be done with the race. A shower and a cessation of forward movement was at the top of my list. But was I ready to be real-life Elke again? I didn't know. 

As we crested a hill that then dropped down into a valley, we spotted a group of racers at a creek crossing. Initially they appeared to be just hanging out, in no particular rush. Once they spotted us they suddenly became a flurry of activity, hopped on their bikes and shot off down the road. They were obviously in a rush to get away from the site, and we couldn't figure out why. The final CP of the race was along the creek they were stationed at. It was really a mercy point, not requiring much thought in finding. Why would they be so amped to vacate the area? Later, we found out it was B&Z along with Tighty Whitey's team. They had been punching the point when Tighty Whitey cried out "GO GO GO! We have to get out of here!" B&Z had no idea what the emergency was, but they did as they were told and raced out of there! 

We arrived to the small creek, and together, Becky and I trekked down the creek and punched the final CP of Endless Mountains 2026. Whew. What a wild ride from that first punch days and days ago. We returned to Dan and hopped back on our bikes. The road began to descend faster and faster, and soon we were holding on for dear life as we barreled down the gravel road at totally irresponsible speeds. I could feel all that excitement and energy filling my drained body. I couldn't help myself. I started to hoot and holler, yip and yell, gasp and giggle my way down that road. Becky joined in and we were a duo of raucous noise early that Saturday morning as we plowed into North Adams Massachusetts.

We paused at the intersection of Risky Ranch and Cross Road. It didn't feel like it should be that easy. We literally had to stay on that exact road all the way to the finish line. Like no more thought processes required. Just ride. As we came into town limits and were passing a few businesses Becky cried out "DAN! Its the hot dog!" There on the side of the road was a human-sized hot dog statue outside of a restaurant. Becky paused for a picture with the object that had caught their attention their first evening in North Adams a week ago to the day. 

After the photo shoot we continued on down the streets of North Adams that were blessedly empty on that early Saturday morning. Rounding the bend in the road I finally started to recognize the area. It was a surreal feeling. We were on the very last quarter mile of the race. We were going to cross that finish line as official finishers. We did it. 

Becky and I continued yipping and yelping in joy, totally inconsiderate of the residents along that street. I couldn't help it. We rode up to the parking lot at Hoosac Hall and spotted the finish like arch down by the entrance to the dorm. Our uncontained enthusiasm alerted the race staff to our arrival and we were cheered on by staff, racers, cow bells, and I think a fog horn, as we crossed the finish line together. We cheerfully accepted our well-earned medals and paused for a finish line photo, smiles plastered to our faces. Abby came over and asked how our race was. I hadn't wanted to start off with any complaints of missing out on so many sections of the course, but I word vomited out how we had come in early enough to have done more out there. I regret it now. I should have said how awesome it was, how challenged we were, and how unforgettable it was. Because all those things are more true and more worthy of saying than anything that went wrong. 

The race was everything I had thought it would be. We learned. We struggled. We laughed. We persisted. We crumbled. We rebuilt. We did it. I can't say I'll ever have another race quite like that one, but I'll always remember it. And as Abby suggested later on that day, maybe an all female Irritatingly Optimistic Team is something to look into for next time. Because there will most certainly be a next time. 

Endless Mountains 2026 Stage H

 After the initial shock of being in an actual building with four walls wore off, our team approached the check in table set up down the short hallway and in the dining room of the ski lodge. Patty was seated at the table with four envelopes and sign in sheets neatly arranged in front of her. She proceeded to explain the deal. As we had heard, there were four different orienteering courses set up on the grounds of the cross-country ski area. They were either short or long and easy or hard. During her explanation, Jim came over and joined in detailing how we were to go about the challenge. 

I can honestly say I was nearly the most exhausted and bone tired as I had been up to that point in the whole race. I just wanted to sit down and rest for a few minutes. Like the thought of sitting in an actual chair and just staring off for 10 minutes seemed like it would have been heavenly. Alas, daylight was a-wasting and I had somehow earned the title of "most excited about the orienteering courses" on our team. And so, it was assumed I was ready to go out guns blazing and hop right into an orienteering course. The question was which one. I had thought the short hard or long easy sounded doable, but at that point, when we were still hoping to complete all four courses, it made the most sense to check off the hardest course. I signed my name on the Long Hard course and accepted the map handed to me. 

Glancing over the map, it actually didn't look too terribly difficult. There was only one or two points I knew I would have to really use my brain to find. Becky gave me a few different attack point options for CP"L" while I emptied my pack of any non-mandatory items. Once my pack was blessedly lighter than normal, I bid my teammates adieu and set off on my own for what I was assuming would be an hour of sweet solitude.

I started my route by grabbing a CP tucked along a creek and then another up a semi shallow trail nestled in a drainage pit of sorts. From there, I goofed around a large rocky area for a few minutes until I saw my intended flag hanging about 100 yards further up the trail. After that punch I needed to gain a respectable amount of elevation. The maps were zoomed in from what looked like a caltopo app, with features slightly blurred and oddly enlarged. To find the next two points I needed to follow the abandoned framework of an old ski lift. The first of those two points was hanging in a huge metal culvert that ended with me soaking my shoes. Walking through the thigh-high vegetation to the next CP just saturated my shoes even more, so it wasn't a big deal. 

I popped into the woods just a smidge prematurely for the next point before realizing my goof and then homed in to my intended CP. While I was climbing that trail, I had looked back and seen a spectacled gentleman, also deeply focused on the map in his hands, following along the same route. I had the thought of linking up with him, but I still have imposter syndrome and worried he would think I was just trying to ride his shirttails on the course. 

After hitting that CP, which I had thought was my highest elevation of the course (ha. hahahaha.) I dipped back down the trails to a CP that was nestled deep in a reentrant ensconced by muck and mire. It was after punching that CP that I realized I had not paid enough attention to the contour lines, and I was going to have to turn around and scale back up the side of the mountain to the next two CPs. Rather than return to the trail, I chose to bushwhack directly up the incline. It was so steep in this no-mans-land between ski trails that I was pulling myself up, hand over fist, for what felt like eons. In actuality, it was probably only a like 100 feet of elevation, but it felt like I was trying to scale the side of Everest in my effort. 

When I finally reached the connector trail between two ski runs I ran into Brittany. She looked flustered and slightly over the course. I asked which course she was running and she laughingly said, "Short Easy, of course!" She had also underestimated the challenge and not brought enough water. I offered for her to have some of mine, but she assured me she was on her return route and would be totally fine. I continued on to the point I knew I was going to have to work for. 

As I approached the turn in the trail I was looking for, I spotted a reentrant that appeared on the map like it could lead me at least relatively near CP"L." I started up the little dry-ish creek bed. It always amazes me when you can feel as if your muscles and will power are at rock bottom and yet you can dig just a little deeper and keep going. The human body is an amazing thing, and with the continued knowledge that there is always just a smidge more gas in the tank, we can really amaze ourselves with what we are capable of. Cause it doesn't make sense that my legs kept climbing and my determination didn't dry up. 

I climbed higher and higher up that reentrant until I came to a boggy mess of a clearing. I had started the climb with the hopes that the CP would just plop in front of me at the top. There was no plopping. I continued on the same trajectory for a while before I stopped and really looked at the map. There was no back stop to let me know I had gone too far. Just never-ending forest and topography. There was a larger reentrant to the right of where I was, so I thought to maybe shoot over to that area and poke around. I came to a boulder laden, treefall entombed, natural obstacle course and started to continue up. After a few minutes I started to notice just how low the sun was getting. This wasn't smart. I turned back toward the trail and slowly made my way down. I figured I would go for the remaining two points and then try this one again.

I headed further along the trail toward CP "M" and decided on approaching it from the least steep side of the hilltop. As I was picking my way through the thick and nearly impenetrable Vermont equivalent of rhododendrons, I came upon the same guy I had seen earlier on the course. I decided I didn't care if I seemed like a lost little puppy at that point and I asked him if he had any luck with CP"L". He said he was going for that one next and to just call out for him when I started going for it and he would help me out. I thanked him profusely and went on to punch M. 

As I was returning to the trail intersection where he said he was going to shoot a bearing, I realized I had no idea what to call out to find him. I didn't catch his name, and I didn't want to just yell out "Hey glasses-guy!! Where are you?!" I decided I had to be a big girl and shoot my own bearing. I got a heading and dove directly into the woods. I climbed up and up and up yet again. While I don't claim that maintaining a heading is my best ability, I gave it my all to stay on course. For what seemed like an exorbitant amount of time, energy, and elevation, I kept going. Eventually I started to give up hope on finding this ding dang CP. The only problem was that if you missed even one of the points on your course you didn't get any credit for all your work. It was all or nothing. So, if I gave up on this one, then all the effort I had put into the other points was, well, pointless!

Just as I was really considering throwing in the towel, I spotted glasses guy climbing over a boulder coming toward me. Hot dang! I called out to him in relief and excitement! We closed in the distance between us and he assured me I was very close and to follow my heading just a few meters up and around the boulders in front of us and I would spot the CP at the top of a small rock ledge. As promised, there it was! I was so relieved. I only had one more point to find before I could head back to the lodge and stop moving for at least a little while. 

Rather than turn around and head back the way I had come, I decided to change trajectories and head in a more direct route to my final CP which was on a small creek at the very bottom of the ski area. I crawled, scaled, and slid down toward the trail I had tried to use as my attack point the first time I went for "L". Within a few minutes I recognized the obstacle course before me and realized I hadn't been too far off on my first attempt at the CP. If I had maybe used more tools in my toolbox with that attempt I may have found it and saved myself at least 30 minutes. I promised myself I would not "just hope for the best" when I went for future off trail points. 

I dropped back onto the trail and wove my way through ski runs until I came to the whereabouts for my final punch. Another racer was walking toward me in the fading light and I asked him if he thought going for the CP on the creek without a headlamp was doable, because I had left all light sources on the table in the lodge. He looked like he was lost, confused, and didn't understand the words coming out of my mouth. There was an awkward pause and he finally said, "yea, sure." I don't know who was more of a walking corpse at that point, him or me. 

I came to the wood line where I was planning to dive into the thick of the vegetation for my final point when glasses-guy came bebopping out of the woods. He kindly gave me a heading to follow, and I dialed it into my compass as I thanked him yet again.  Within a few feet of entering the dark of the woods I noticed a trampled trail through the tall grass and low shrubbery. Even though I had just had a pep talk with myself about not being lazy in my navigation, I put my compass back in my hip pocket and blindly followed the path in front of me. It dropped me right on the creek, but the CP was nowhere to be seen. I looked at my map and saw that the point should have been just a smidge further down the creek to the left. I didn't see any path over the land that headed in that direction, and I was near my absolute last bit of gas in the tank, so I decided hopping in the creek and wading through the knee-deep waters was easier than trying to force my way through the thick creek side bushes.

The cool water invaded my swampy shoes and felt lovely on my hot and blistered feet. I slowly sloshed my way down the creek and soon spotted my final punch of the course. As I climbed up the small step up to the creek bank, I saw an obvious trail just behind the flag. Well dang. I guess there was a trail I could have taken rather than slopping through the creek. But I did not regret the feeling of the refreshing water on my feet and calves. 

I returned to the trail and followed a ski run called "home" back to the lodge as the sun completely set for the last time on the race. I was spent. Like every muscle in my body cried for a rest. Even my core felt wobbly as I trekked through the un-mowed thigh high grasses of the meadow surrounding the front of the lodge. I knew as soon as the next Irritatingly Optimistic teammate would head out for their run I was going to literally fall on the floor of the lodge and just rest. Sleep would be awesome, but even just staying still for a spell sounded glorious. 

I came into the lodge and handed over my punch card to Patty. She gave me a smile and a nod of approval at my completion of the course. Waddling back over to the table we had claimed, I saw Becky resting with her head on her folded arms on the table. I didn't spot Dan at first, but quickly realized the snoring human wrapped in a bivy along the wall was my other teammate. Out like a light. I tapped Becky on the arm and plopped into a chair. She had been expecting me for a while and was surprised it had taken me so long, but stated other teams were taking just as long on the long-hard course. I agreed it had been a bit more challenging than expected and apologized for using up all the daylight. We together realized there was no way Dan was going to go out in the dark for any of the courses, and we were running out of time.

Not only did we have three more possible courses ahead of us, but we also needed to allot time for our two-hour penalty at this TA. It was roughly 9pm by this time and we wanted to give ourselves at least 8 hours on the final leg. There was no way we were going to be able to do the other 3 courses. Becky decided running the short easy course was probably the smartest option. She took her mandatory gear, a headlamp, and went to Patty to get the map. 

Looking around the lodge there were bodies everywhere. Racers were sprawled out on tables, under tables, across chairs, behind counters, and along walls. Many people had their legs elevated on chairs and were laying on the floor. This looked like the very best option. I peeled out of my shoes and flopped my absolutely spent legs on a chair and literally flopped my torso on the floor with my pack under my head and my raincoat across my eyes. I didn't sleep. I don't know how to describe the feeling of being 100% on "E" and still not able to sleep. I don't know what I did, but it may have been an out of body experience for just a few minutes. I remained cognizant, but I recharged over the next 20 minutes to the point where I knew I could go on. I pulled my raincoat from my eyes and looked around. Brittany was set up at a table just behind me and appeared to be a functioning human. The lure of human interaction outweighed my need for sleep, so I dragged myself up and over to a seat at her table. 

Together over tailwind and cheetohs, we chatted and commiserated for a few relaxing moments. Zach was out doing another course, but they were also resolved to doing only two of the four possibilities. It made me realized that if we were only doing two, why didn't I do the short hard or long easy?! A point is a point! But, honestly, I think I enjoyed that long hard course more than I should have, given my exhaustion and the late hour in the race. 

While we were enjoying the moment of doing nothing, Dan appeared to wake up from his deep slumber. I watched him poke his head out from his bivy and look around for something. When his eyes landed on me, he held out an empty plastic cup and gave it a little shake. I paused not believing what I was seeing. This guy, who had been sleeping for the past few hours while his teammates were out scaling the sides of Prospect Mountain, was asking me to fill up his water cup for him so he wouldn't have to crawl out of his bivy sack. I turned and looked at Britany in disbelief. All we could do was laugh. It was a laugh of desperation, but it kept my reaction in check, and I was able to walk over to him, take his cup, fill it at the water fountain and return it to him without pouring it on his head. Small victories.

Becky returned to the lodge after less than an hour. She had had a small goof on the same CP I had that was housed in the culvert. I had given her a heads up on that one to not overthink it and that it was a pretty easy find. In the dark of the night, and with the culvert obviously blocking the reflection of the flag, it had proved to be a little trickier than I had suggested. Otherwise, it sounded like she had done really well and efficiently. It was getting late and we decided we would only claim ownership over two of the orienteering courses that evening. 

Our next goal was to transition for the final bike leg of the race. The deal with our time penalty was that we had to completely stop and sit at a table for the allotted timeframe. I figured we would be able to sleep and eat for that time, perhaps even change clothes and use the bathroom. I was mistaken. We woke Dan up and all headed out into the dark to build our bikes and pack our boxes. I really think we finished this in record time. By 10:45 we were back in the lodge to check in for our penalty. I had left most of my stuff sitting at the table we had claimed earlier, thinking we would just be floating around the lodge and still able to putter about. Jim had other plans for us. 

Initially we were pointed to 4 chairs set up along a wall and told to sit. He called the ARWS ref to clarify what was to be done. The ref was already asleep somewhere and slightly groggy when Jim spoke to him but was able to relay that we needed to sit at a table where we could not get up, go to the bathroom, or go near our gear for the full two hours. I had left my food, shoes, and remaining gear at our other table. Dang it. We were guided to a four-top table and told to sit together. We were not allowed to get up, move, or look at maps. Jim looked at his watch and set a two hour timer. He told us to keep an eye on the time just in case he got caught up with TA happenings. It was 10:50.

Within a few minutes we all had our heads on the table. Within ten minutes Dan had left his seat and was laying on the floor under the table. I guess the rules stated we couldn't leave the table, and he was still kinda at the table. Over the next 1.5 hours I listened to other teams chatting, Patty and Jim repeatedly explaining the o-courses to arriving teams, and Dan snore. I know I fell asleep off and on because I kept doing that sleep-jerk-twitch thing you do when your body is overly exhausted. At one point I heard Glen Lewis return from the long-hard course and comment on how tricky the nav was. Ha! Validation. 

At one point Jim looked over and only saw two of us at the table. He suddenly realized he had a fugitive on the loose and began scurrying around the lodge looking for his escaped convict! Eventually he realized Dan had just bent the rules ever so slightly, but he was still "at the table." Multiple other teams kept looking at us, pitying our plight of having to sit in hard wooden chairs for such a long period of time. But honestly, those hours of rest were a blessing in disguise. 

Toward the end of our penalty. Becky startled herself awake and twitched so violently it woke me up too. She realized our passport was in her shorts, which she had changed out of and put in her bike box, which could possibly already be on the truck or even heading back to North Adams! We waved Patty over and explained our dilemma. She wasn't sure what our options were, so she waved over Jim. They came through for us and decided if Jim went with Becky, to ensure all she did at her box was retrieve the passport, then no rules would be broken. He took this very seriously and stood right next to Becky as she dug through her bike box. She even had him hold a few things while she clamored for the precious passport. 

At 12:50 on the dot, I called out to Jim that our two hours were up and he valiantly agreed to let us go from our prison-table. We jumped into action, collected our gear, used the bathroom and bundled up for the final upcoming 20-mile ride that Brent had repeatedly told teams, "Not to underestimate."