Fall Foliage 2025

 Its always the absolute best when everything comes together. The location, the teammate, the weather, the vacation, the race, the results; it all came together perfectly in this year's Fall Foliage put on by Broad Run Off Road. Having been my 3rd round taking on Allen's renowned autumn adventure, I knew it would be a good time, no matter the details, but nearly every detail was flawless. 

First and foremost, the location of the race was one I have dreamt of since I started playing around with this thing called Adventure Racing. My family has vacationed in the area of Harper's Ferry for the past 30 plus years. I have so many core memories of the stunning fall leaves, swift Shenandoah waters, historic towns, challenging mountains, and just overall outdoor joy in the areas surrounding that tri-state point. The trails and waterways have nearly screamed out for an adventure race director to take on the challenge of organizing an event. While it sounds like it wasn't an easy task, I'm so thankful to Allen and Jeremy for the efforts they put into the course. It was everything I had dreamed of. We have moved our basecamp of vacation adventures downriver to the Brunswick Family Campground over the years. The clincher to the awesomeness of this year's race was that our base camp was one of the main transition areas and gear drop off point for the event. 

Next up was the teammate. I've always said I love racing with my husband, and it's so true. Every race just adds to his arsenal of abilities, and he's been accruing some stellar improvements over the past few years. Not to mention his fancy-shmancy new bike he bought recently. That sucker was enviable. We worked together comfortably, compatibly, and consistently throughout the 13 hours on the course, and the time surrounding the race.  His realism combines with my irrational optimism and keeps our goals obtainable and realistic. My optimism keeps him moving forward, just occasionally with a few choice words of grumbling. 

The weather was indisputably ideal. Honestly, I've lucked out the past few races I've entered and have been spoiled with meteorologic racing perfection. Following a slight sprinkling of rain early in the morning, the skies were clear, the sun was bright, the temps were fall-level perfection, and the breeze was nearly always at our backs. The few times I started to feel overheated we were either on a refreshing river that could dish up some cooling waters, or we were at the top of a mountain with life-giving gusts of wind that were so welcomed. 

The vacation can't be overlooked. Planning out a few days before and after a race for family fun makes these Adventure Racing trips a highlight for the whole family. With the race being on Saturday, we opted to arrive in the area on Thursday and set up our commune of tents and trailers along with my 73 year old mother, who would hold down the fort with the kids while we were out racing. Our good friends the Offen family and the Huber family also booked sites in the park. While we had really wanted to have our sites together, so many other racers and fall enthusiasts also had the forethought to stay at the campground, so sites were limited. Thankfully, the Dolder clan was able to get the sites we always love to call home.  

Now, onto the race. 

As I mentioned earlier, our beloved Brunswick Campground was the gear drop off site for the night before the race. How easy was it to pause in dinner prep and walk our bikes and gear over to the pavilion and check in for the race. In a welcomed surprise, we were also given our maps the night before the race. I've only ever been spoiled with such an advantage by Rev3 races, so this was a coveted treat! Being able to delay an alarm on race morning will always make me happy. While our beef stew simmered in the Dutch oven over an open fire, Chris and I chose our routes and plans of attack. I don't think the smile ever fell off my face that whole evening. I went to bed in our tent that night bubbling with excitement for the adventures of the next day.

Chris and I were the first to leave the campground on race morning, other than race staff that were also calling the campground home. We arrived to Harpers Ferry National Park as the sun was just beginning to peak out from the eastern horizon. Racers were twittering here and there, race staff was hanging twinkling lights, and there was the standard electric energy that surrounds a race start. We walked over to the tent for Adventure Enablers and claimed our e-punch and tracker. With a comfortable time cushion before race start, we headed back to the warm van to do some last minute coffee sipping and pack adjusting. Eventually, we spotted a few familiar faces and we emerged from our cozy car into the brisk morning air. Allen and Jeremy made a few updates and reiterated key points for the course. We were treated to a crash course in rafting safety and tips by a true river rat of a rafting guide. Finally, we were corralled over to two waiting buses that were going to transport the teams in waves over to Boliver Heights, just across route 340, where the race would begin. 

We were able to make the second wave of buses and climbed to the back of the bus where our buddies Jonathan, Andrea, and their oldest son, Jonny, who were representing the Delmarva Adventure Sports team, joined us. After a less than 5 minute ride, we emerged into the brisk morning breeze whipping across the open fields of Boliver Heights. Racers gathered in clumps discussing what Allen may have in store for us with his inventive prologues. A few racers paced around getting a lay of the land in preparation for the race start. It all looked just as the map laid it out to be, I love it when it works out like that. There have been races that I still hadn't found myself in the map when the gun went off. 

The prologue ended up being pretty straight forward with a lock for each team whose code could be found by reading clues off the plethora of historic info boards along the open foot path in front of us. Once everyone had their locks in hand and understood the assignment, it was unanimously decided to begin the race just a hair early at 8:55am. The mass of racers shot out across the open noll and claimed their copies of the clue sheets and then dispersed among the 8 info boards. The prologue did its job of spreading the field out, and by the time Chris and I were heading toward CP 1,  the pack had thinned out and we all had room to breathe. 

Leg 1- Trek 7/7 CPs

The first trek covered approximately 6 miles of open battle fields and winding punchy forest trails. We ping ponged with a few teams and punched all 7 CPs hidden among cannons, an abandoned lodge housing a 8 foot yogi bear inflatable and a bowl of candy, along with a few CPs hidden off trail. It was a great warm up, and Chris was even willing to jog a few of the miles. We caught up with a team of familiar faces I had seen at countless other races. I knew the team to have a combined experience level beyond nearly all the other teams out on the course, and I felt like just being along side them gave me some sort of osmotic AR knowledge. After cruising along for some distance together, the woman, Diana, on their 3 person team suggested our teams link up for the upcoming whitewater section where we would need to form "super teams" of anywhere from 4-6 people for the rafts. I eagerly accepted her suggestion, knowing they were sure to be a great team to navigate with along the low waters of the Potomac.  This serendipitous alliance proved to be clutch in our paddle performance.

Leg 2- Paddle 7/7 CPs

As we were trotting to the TA where rafts, paddles, and PFDs waited for us, I heard an unmistakable "KoooWee" coming from the river. The entirety of other Delmarva Adventure Sports teammates had linked up together on the paddle and were calling out a greeting to us! Jonathan, Andrea, and Jonny had timed their arrival perfectly with Dennis and his son Dawson to the TA and were a good 15 minutes ahead of us. I knew they would clear any trek section faster than us, but I didn't think they had gained that much of a lead on us. It didn't phase me all too much with the knowledge that we are strong paddlers, and while they had youth and vigor on their side, we had paddle experience. While our co-paddlers had chosen the team name "Old and in the Way" they proved the point that AR is more about experience and grit than brute force. (Though they had that too!) Within less than 2 miles of river we had passed our Delmarva teammates and sailed off with Jeff calling out perfectly orchestrated instructions to the rest of us in the raft. We didn't miss every rock and hang up on the Potomac, but we maintained a hearty lead on our friends, and passed no less than 7 other boats along the 9 mile route. I loved chatting with them and taking in their tales of AR legend. 

As we neared the take out and second TA of the race, I started singing out the family call to alert Mom and the kids that we were arriving to the campground. Owen, Arthur, and Christopher waved to us from the shoreline and further in the distance the  remaining entirety of the Offen/Dolder kid clan enthusiastically Koowee'd out greetings to us. We hauled up our raft to the top of the boat ramp as Mom came skidding up on her bike, phone in hand to snap pictures of us in our hasty transitioning. I know I was all smiles to tell her we were currently ahead of the rest of the Delmarva pack. Chris and I thanked our new friends Diana, Jeff and Eric for such a wonderful and adventitious paddle and we headed over to grab our bikes and sped over to our campsite where we had our own transition area set up. As we rode down the gravel road to C5, I caught sight of Andrea and Jonathan pulling their raft up to the top of the ramp. I knew our lead was coming to an end as quickly as it had began. But man! It was fun while it lasted! Chris and I dried off, changed, and refilled as quickly as we could and headed over to the bathhouse to pee before storming out onto the first bike leg. While I was waiting for Chris to finish up, the Offen crew came running out of the bathrooms and careened off from the TA ahead of us. We were all smiles and enjoying the fun competition!

Leg 3- Bike 8/10 CPs

Leaving the campground, we headed left, choosing to drop our first point of the race. Although it would have been an easy grab, just a mile or so down the flat and fast tow path, we figured it would take more time than it was worth to get it. I would say about half the field chose to drop the point. In hindsight, I kinda wish we would have grabbed it, but honestly, our race turned out so well, I think we made a good decision. 

Having vacationed in the town of Brunswick for years, I didn't need to follow the map to get to the first point on the leg. We caught up with the Offens and a pretty large group of other racers at the newly groomed trail of Brunswick City Park. I chose a less direct route to CP 16 and by the time Chris and I popped back on the roads, we could see other racers hauling up to the top a STEEEEP hill ahead of us. Through a few alternative route choices, we all arrived to the trailhead of River's Edge MTB trail system nearly simultaneously. After punching the initial CP at the trailhead, we swooped, skidded, and shredded our way through CPs 18, 19, and 21. Chris and I opted to drop 20, which was located in a known fun section of the system, but didn't seem time-cost-effective to us at the time. We had actually considered dropping CP21, and had decided to eye a possible bushwhack to the point from a trail intersection. My plan worked perfectly and we punched the CP faster than we would have if we had gone over the trail we had initially thought about using. When we emerged from the park I felt hot, flushed, and shaky. I knew I needed to prioritize nutrition more than I had so far, so we paused under a tree, swapped out my maps, and downed nearly an entire bottle of tailwind. 

We hauled it back to the Tow Path, thankfully missing any interference of trains as we crossed the tracks at the Brunswick Train Station. Knowledge of the tow path worked to our advantage on our ride back to Harpers Ferry. While I didn't immediately know where all the CPs were along the way, I was able to think clearly on where to keep my eyes open for small side trails that lead to the points. Like I said earlier, Chris had bought a new bike, and so, I inherited his Trek Xcaliber, a serious upgrade from the Cannondale Trail I have been riding for a few years. Between his Superior XF, and my new-to-me Xcaliber, we were able to maintain a pretty clippy pace for the 7 mile ride back to the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah. I had a mild snafu at CP 25 due to my inattentiveness and forgetting the flag was a mini-itty-bitty version of the normal flags, but with the clue "lock tunnel" it was indisputably where I thought it had to be. And it was. 

Leg 4- Trek 7/9 CPs

After battling though the dangerously oblivious crowds, we made it to TA 3 and dropped our bikes. Leg 4 boasted a major elevation factor. Like more elevation in that one section than the entire Spring Bloom event, and it came through with that promise. We've climbed the Maryland Heights trail for years and years, many times with one or more children strapped to us, so we were no strangers to the trail. I had suggested a short cut from the tow path up to CP 26 by following a reentrant. Once we arrived to said reentrant, Chris shot that idea down hard. While it would have saved us like half the distance, the boulders, fallen trees, and rapid elevation gain at the bottom of the reentrant was not a welcoming sight. We chose to follow the well maintained trail and hop into the reentrant further up. The plan worked out well. Even though I over shot the CP and came dangerously close to crossing into private property, a moment of reorienting myself and taking in all the geographical clues led me back to the CP we had trouped directly past on our way up.  We reconnected with the main trail and picked off CP 27 without a hitch. We maintained the counterclockwise route for this leg and braved the crowds at the lookout point for CP 28. As we slogged back up the steep ascent we had just descended for that CP I voiced out loud how we probably should have dropped that point. I think it took us at least 30 minutes to grab it. Chris very honestly answered "There is no way you would have left a CP at point lookout." And he was right. Not that I am a deep deep traditionalist, but it would almost be sacrilege to not go out there while being on that mountain for any reason. I am thankful we did it, even with the quads and hamstring misery. 

We went on, further up the mountain to CP 29 where I shot a bearing from the closest trail intersection. I kept the heading well, but when I reached the cliffy- bouldery site where I assumed the CP would be, it was not. I looked around in desperation knowing I had veered off pretty far from the trail when ta-da! There was that cute little orange and white flag dangling from a rock about 30 meters west of where I was standing. It made me realize I was fighting with a faulty declination setting, yet again. If I would just take the time to REALLY understand it, it would pay off in leaps and bounds. As soon as I punched the CP, I called out a KooWee to find Chris and was surprised to hear a definitively feminine Koo-wee returned. It was Andrea! They were attacking the same CP but from a clockwise route! I love crossing paths with other racers on different route choices. 

I reconnected with Chris and continued on the trail to the CPs at the 100 pound battery and Old Stone Fort. We opted to drop the CP that was located about 100 feet down on a questionably recognizable old logging road. If time weren’t an issue, and I had more navigational confidence, I would have loved the challenge of shooting for that CP, as well as the two point CP to the far west of the trail. But time was, indeed, an issue. As we were traversing the western portion of the old stone fort trail, I was hit with some deep hard belly pains. I can say now that it was the gummy fruit strips I was shoving into my face, three at a time that caused my woes, but I was starting to think it was a dreaded GI bug. My discomfort was enough that I was totally cool dropping even the next CP that while not on trail, didn’t look all too far off. As we walked along I kept thumbing the map, keeping a rough idea of how far along the trail we were traveling. At one point, and I’m still not sure what hinted me to it, I decided to veer off the trail and start edging over toward the obvious drop off in elevation. I think I was assuming that by walking the edge of that ridge I would be able to spot the CP more easily. I could still see Chris on the trail, so I knew I hadn’t gone too far off when suddenly I had the distinct instinct to start heading further into the woods. As I came toward a cluster of rocks I saw another racer pop out from behind them and knew some sense had lead me in the right direction at the right time. I’m still not sure whether I would have really succeeded in that find if we hadn’t arrived just as another racer was leaving the CP. However it happened, it gave us another point. 

Leg 5- Trek/Bike 10/11 CPs

We followed the trail back down to the main trail and headed back toward the TA. As we came upon the distinct bend in the trail where we had veered off for CP 26 I couldn’t keep from speculating a clutch move. The race director had given us all the green light to grab a cluster of 3 “bike points” while we were out on the trek section. With that permission, all we had to do was hop the reentrant in front of us and maintain a heading directly toward CP 37. While we were standing there, another 2 person team ambled up near us, obviously contemplating the same thoughts. I looked over at them and we both kinda winked at each other and set off on a bushwhack that would serve us so well. Not only did that little move save us at least a mile of travel and no less than 200 feet of elevation, but somehow we literally dropped right on top of the CP. I wish I could say I totally knew it was going to work out that way, but again, it was a slight surprise to see the CP hanging from the branch of a tree along a wisp of a trail I barely even noticed. We went on to grab the two other points on this little tract, albeit not nearly as directly as we grabbed the first. 

Prior to the race start, we were told there was a time cut off for returning to TA 3 to start the last bike leg. The purpose of this cut off was to ensure everyone was off of Maryland Heights Trails by 7pm, since there was a sort of curfew in place by the national park system. We figured it wasn't a problem if we strolled in a little late since the sun was going down while we were searching for the three "bike/trek" points located off of Maryland Heights Mountain. Juuuuuust to be safe though, we jogged back to the TA down the road and scooted in by 7:10, without any comment from the race staff. We eagerly filled (and chugged and then filled again) a few water bottles and headed over to our bikes. My maps were nearly shredded by this point. I hadn't perfectly sealed the map case while we were splish-splashing along the Potomac River, and the constant changing from map case to map board was beginning to puree our plans.

 I pieced together map 3 and 4 and we took in our options. The road that lead to the next cluster of points looked dauntingly steep when Chris eyed it from the base of the TA. He didn't flat out refuse to head toward that section, but he certainly wasn't eager. I knew we still had a good cluster of points to get on the final trek leg at Murphy Farms at the very end of the race, but we still had almost 3 hours left on the clock. I saw a single bike point blessedly located on the flat tow path just to the west of the TA and suggested we go get that point and then just take a gander at the faint "older or abandoned" trail that could lead us up to Fort Duncan and Huckleberry Hill.

We easily cruised down the tow path and painlessly punched CP 43 housed in a old stone ruin. We rode on the tiniest bit further to a lock that appeared to be at the base of the aforementioned "trail." We parked our bikes along with a smattering of other teams and surveyed the dark hillside. There was absolutely nothing that could even be remotely defined as a trail. But. But, but, but, CP 42 looked to be right at the top of a small-ish incline. I convinced Chris it wouldn't be too hard to leave the bikes here at the base, do a short scramble up the hillside and grab just one more point on this section. He acquiesced, and we started our scramble. It wasn't clear, it wasn't easy, and it certainly wasn't fun, but we dropped right on top of CP 42. As we caught our breath from the endeavor, Chris said "there is NO way I'm going back down what you just drug me up." And with that I formulated a plan to grab nearly the entire cluster of points on Huckleberry Hill. We followed a super faint trail, passed our paddle pals Old and In the Way, as well as the Offen crew and made our way to CP 41 that was housed in an abandoned and dilapidated building literally in the middle of the woods which were reclaiming the structure. We went on to grab CP 40 on the edge of an open field and finally CP 38 located on a pond edge. As we neared the CP an unusually brave deer stood motionless within reach of the path I was fording to the point. I almost wondered if it was debating about charging at me and throwing me into the muck pond just for giggles. Thankfully, it merely observed my antics with a calm, slightly bored gaze. 

We chose to drop CP 39, but later heard it was a pretty easy find. From CP 38 I made the decision to follow the stream which flowed off the pond all the way back down to the tow path and then we would jog back to our waiting bikes at the lock. It worked. It worked out so well I have to thank Chris for his refusal to take the road I had initially planned on using. Seeing everyone up on Huckleberry Hill pushing their bikes through those less than clear trails looked miserable. But we were able to pick our way through all those fallen trees and high vegetation with relative ease. Good call, my love!

When we returned to our bikes, we saw that many other racers had taken the same approach and bikes were scattered all along the lock clearing. We hopped back on the bikes and hauled off into the dark heading towards Harpers Ferry. We passed a few other teams while keeping a brisk pace. By the time we got to the foot bridge, I felt like we were pushing our pace a little too aggressively. We cruised through the sleepy streets of downtown Harpers Ferry and easily nabbed CP 44 which I had assumed would literally be "cliffside" but was elated to see it wafting in the late evening breeze at the foot of the cliff. We completed the final bike by bopping CP 45 and serendipitously scaling a small dirt path that lead directly to the back of the final TA before our last trek leg.

Leg 6- Trek 4/6 CPs

We dropped our bikes in the make-shift corral and immediately headed back out into the night. It took me a few seconds to clear the cobwebs out of my head and return to navigation mode. Seeing the finish line and all the yummy food and relaxing tables set up for race end was hard to walk away from with creaking muscles and tired eyes. But on we marched to both CP 46 and 47. Once we emerged from the woods and out into the open fields of Murphy Farms we met with Becky, a dear AR friend who is always a welcomed sight. We commiserated for only a few moments before Chris and I headed out for a few final points.

 I had originally thought all the CPs in this leg looked navigationally challenging, none appearing on trails or with obvious geographical clues. However, at some point during the race I found out the 5 hour racers were also using this section as their trekking leg, so I had to assume the points would not be quite as difficult as I had assumed. We decided to grab 3 out of the 4 points, leaving the one that looked to be a good haul out into the distance. We had less than an hour left on the clock and refused to fight for a point we might lose because of poor time management. As we were walking down a trail that wasn't making sense, we met up with Dennis and his son Dawson for the first time in hours. They asked how we were making out and I told them "we're doing well enough." Can't give away our exact CP count at that point! Especially with them heading to the finish.

We eventually realized we were on a gravel road that paralleled our intended trail, but it would work out better for us than our original plan. We grabbed CP 51 across an open field by shooting a bearing from a trail intersection and headed on to 49. I was nearly dragging myself to go forward at this point. Between another bout of stabbing belly pain and just pure exhaustion, I was hurting. We dove into the woods at the end of the trail we were on in hopes of stumbling upon CP 49. Alas, I ended up converging with a nearly vertical foot path, so steep it was lined with a fire hose to help hikers ascend and descend the less than ideal trail. For the first time in the race, I checked my altimeter and saw that I was roughly 45 feet shy of what I thought was the plotted elevation of the CP. Probably shouldn't have relied on my uncalibrated watch for such info. I descended further and further down the fire hose trail until I was nearly on top of the train tracks located at the base of the cliff. Weeeeellll dang. I finally goofed. Like goofed so bad I was ready to give up. But I still had to turn around and now pull myself up, hand over fist back to the top of this ding dang vertical trail of doom. With no other option, I started back up. By the time I could see the top of the trail I was so spent I could have sat down and waited for daylight. I called out to Chris "I give up. Lets call it and head back." As I glanced to my right my headlamp caught the slightest reflection. Are you serious?! There, less than 50 yards from the ding dang trail of doom I had just pointlessly subjected myself to, was the final CP I was going to punch for the race. I giggled as I beeped the e-punch and slowly finished the climb to the main trail. I reached out for Chris to pull me up the last bit of incline. He was kind enough to guide me and together we walked hand in hand back along the Gravel road that traversed the farm. We left 2 CPs out on that leg, and no part of me regrets it. I was almost totally spent. We returned to the final TA up the same steep sandy trail we had ascended with our bikes and saw a table full of our friends chowing down on pizza and sandwiches. I weakly and pitifully called out our greeting "Kooooooweeeee" and they all turned to see Chris and I shuffle to the finish. We crossed the line with only minutes to spare. I gave Allen a high five and told him it was an absolute blast of a race and I enjoyed every minute of it. Of course I could say that! It was over and we had done our best out there.

We trudged over to the Adventure Enablers tent, downloaded our e-punch, handed in our tracker and stood back to see where we were lining up divisionally. I couldn't believe it. We were currently in 1st with only minutes to spare! We had gotten 44 out of 52 points! There was a team ahead of us with 48 points, but they were apparently disqualified for bending some rules a little too aggressively. Over the next few minutes our ranking dropped to 3rd, but it was still worthy of elation on our part. In the end, after close inspection by race staff, we were given the final results of 2nd out of 12 teams in our division and 26th out of 88 teams overall. I. Am. STOKED!! While I've been on teams with higher overall standings in the past, I think this is the highest ranking Chris and I have had as a team to date! Our buddies on Delmarva Adventure Sports also got 2nd in their division but 21st overall! 

We filled our plates with pizza and Panera sandwiches and headed over to the table with all our friends. After hearing a few stories from their races I realized Chris and I had done comparatively well out there! Jonathan and Dennis both have a few more years of navigational experience on me, so I naturally compare myself to their abilities in these races. To know I had come within 2 points of the Offens was awesome! I know I have plenty of room for improvement, but I'm exceedingly happy with how we did out there. Chris and I enthusiastically accepted our ever so fashionable Fall Foliage baseball caps as prizes for our podiuming and congratulated the others. Our paddle pals also podiumed in their division so I gave Diana a big hug and thanked them yet again for our clutch alliance on the river. 

We slowly gathered up our belongings and headed to the van. As we were packing up the bikes on the rack, I struck up a conversation with a young girl parked just to our left. She was a highschooler who had taken on the race with a few of her classmates. I asked her all about their AR club, which is the only one in the country, and was in awe of her enthusiasm and excitement for the sport. While we all share a love for one of the coolest sports, it isn't exactly mainstream. Her excitement, along with her classmates and the entire next generation of the Delmarva crew, are ensuring this AR thing will continue on. I can't wait to see where we all go next.

Buff Betty 2025

 If you want to get to know someone, you have a few options. You can invest loads of time meeting up casually for coffee, or playdates with your kids. Maybe have them over for dinner a few times. You could work alongside of them for a few years or go to the same gym for an extended period of time. Or you can race with them. Racing with someone strips away a whole lot of silly fluff we all like to prop up around ourselves. You can see how they deal with stress, pain, annoyances, and even glee, victory, and defeat. And while the longer you race with them, the better you get to know them, even a short little 10-hour race will get you pretty well acquainted. 

Brittany and I had a crash course in each other's company this past weekend, and it was a hoot. Originally, we met last year at the 2025 Sea2Sea in Florida. Both in the 2-person coed division racing with our husbands, we were each other's competition. We chatted at the prerace dinner and ping ponged with each other over the 72-hour course. They were upbeat, fun, and jovial. I enjoyed every time we crossed paths out there. A few months after the race, Brittany reached out to me asking what my plans were for the Buff Betty in Virginia. I had toyed with the idea of racing with my daughter, which is always a good time, but the thought of racing with a totally new teammate had its appeal. Only ever having really raced with my main teammates from Delmarva Adventure Sports, in varied combinations, the lure of a new pool of teammates was enticing. (Certainly not to say I don't enjoy my solid crew on the shore!)

After talking with Chris, I decided to go for it. Our team would consist of Brittany, Kylee, and myself. Kylee is the niece of another racer Brittany was familiar with, and she had raced alongside her a few times. We each had multiple races before Buff Betty was scheduled, so we were in a holding pattern for planning until the race was almost upon us. After a video chat (truth be told, it was the very first time I had submitted to anything remotely like a zoom call. Ever. Be flattered, Brittany.) we had our game plan in line. We hoped to be competitive, ideally clear the course, and certainly planned to podium. High aspirations lead to improved outcomes, right? Logistics were worked out well. I was the closest to the race event with a 5-hour drive. Brittany would have had a 10-hour drive and Kylee was totally cool with her 16-hour haul. Wild. The plan was for me to swing over to BWI and pick up Brittany on my way around Washington and together we would make the trip down to Yogaville where Brian and Michelle, Kylee's aunt and uncle, had rented a VBRO. 

As is the case in life, a snafu hit just before race day. Kylee had succumbed to a dreaded, and vicious, GI bug and would not be leaving the state, let alone her bed, for the weekend. As sad as it was to miss out on meeting and racing with a new teammate, I was thankful she made the wise decision to recuperate at home and not on a 16-hour drive across the country. 

And then there were two. BWI was absolutely user friendly and straight forward. We were headed south within minutes of loading Brittany's gear into the back of my 15 passenger hoopty van. We chatted easily and enjoyably the entire 4-hour ride down. After swinging over to grab a few last-minute race items, we arrived to the VRBO and had an endearing evening with Brian and Michelle. 

We popped up bright and early around 5 am and were pulling into James River State Park by 6:15. After grabbing the maps and Rules of Travel, we scurried back to the warm van and poured over the beautiful cartography compliments of Mark Lattanzi. There would be 5 legs: Trek, Bike, Paddle, Trek, Bike. We only were provided with 2/3 of the maps. Deviously, the third map, which had the big trek stage, would be distributed at a TA later in the day. We planned our attack and maintained the optimistic hopes of clearing the course. Michelle, the race director, had made mention in the prerace briefing that the course was, in fact, clearable. (I'd like to see the image of the "Buff Betty" she had in mind who could perform such a feat.) 

There was to be no prologue, but the first trek was a small orienteering section with 3 CPs dispersed within a kilometer or two of the start/finish. When the countdown ended, half the teams went south and half the teams went east, with just a few clever ladies heading north. We were in the East pack, and within a few seconds, we were in the lead. We had agreed to do an "AR shuffle" as often as we could on the flats and the downhills. Cool cool. What Brittany was pacing at was more like my 5K race pace. If at any moment in the race I had a thought that it might not all be sunshine and swimming pools, it was then. I peeped up with a breathless "This isn't an AR shuffle; in case we have a skewed definition of it." She piped back "yea, but this is a road, so come on!" Ok. We're leveling up here. Challenge accepted.  We kept up the tempo down the hill and around the corner to the first CP located on a small creek. I felt like we were doing amazing things, leading the pack, until I saw other women popping out of the woods from the other direction. It hit me that I hadn't even considered their plan of attack. But, we were all hitting the CP at roughly the same time. They were just a little less breathless than me. Route choice. It all goes back to route choice. I'm learning, forever learning. 

We nabbed the other 2 CPs without a hitch and came trotting back to the start/finish with the first wave of racers. Nearly all the bikes were still glistening in the morning sunlight, albeit a few power women who were already speeding off. We transitioned rapidly and headed off to grab the 4 points on this initial bike leg that would bring us to the boat ramp at Bent Creek. I had unpropitiously forgotten my map board, and so Brittany was nominated lead navigator on the bike legs. She did well getting us efficiently across the map and with 4 more punches on our passport. On one of the long straight-aways we were gaining on another 2 person team and the competitive minion in me reared it's ugly head. We kicked it up a notch and passed by the team Some Assembly Required. I didn't recognize their faces, but I knew their team name and knew they were heavy competition. We kept up a lead in front of them for a while until I blew past CP7. Had we thought about it, since Brittany had the maps, I should have been in charge of the clues. Cause had I been on top of the clues, I would have known to NOT LOOK FOR A FLAG at said blown-by CP. Well, at least we deduced that we had to work a little more efficiently from here on out. We realized I missed the point, back tracked, and Some Assembly Required scooted on down the road as we bopped the punch. I wish I could say we ended up flying past them again, but I think our lead on them ended just as quickly as it began. 

We arrived to the TA, checked in and loaded our bikes onto a blessedly nearly empty U-haul. While I think we did well, we didn't transition as fast as other teams, and at least 2 solos and our rivals were out on the James River before we got situated and pushed off from shore. I have to say, we were pretty stellar as a paddle duo. After a little learning curve, Brittany was awesome at steering the canoe and learned to read the river really well. When I race with Chris, we always have him in the front paddling strong, and me in the back navigating. The problem is, I can't always see around his big man-shoulders, and he isn't quick to read the river. Brittany and I were a well-oiled machine by the end of the paddle. We may have unintentionally beached on a few rocks here and there, but overall, we could have earned our back woods river boat captain licenses. 

There was one sole CP on the paddle, which had no flag or punch. All that was required was a picture of at least one teammate physically ON the island. Say no more...

We kept the lead 3 boats in our sights for a majority of the paddle. By the time we arrived to the paddle take out all 3 teams were still pouring over the newly acquired trek map. We hauled our canoe up, packed up our paddle bag, organized ourselves, shoved some food in our faces, and sat down to plan our trek. 

The sheer amount of checkpoints on this leg was daunting. We had a little more than 6 hours left on the clock, and we had planned to have at least 2 hours for the final bike, that left us with 4 hours for the 20 CPs on this trek. We had cleared the course so far, why wouldn't we keep it up?! There was an obvious general flow to the trek, but the question was in the route choice. Always the route choice. We had a loose plan for the first handful of CPs, so we set off. As is nearly always the case, hindsight is 20/20. While we were able to find the first 4 CPs without a hitch, we got sucker punched by CP 11. After twirling around in circles in the woods like a couple of hippy hobos we finally got serious and used all the navigational tools in our little box and finally found CP 11. Unfortunately, we dropped at least 45 minutes on that doozy. Deciding to hit CPs from the road, things went whole lot better for the next few points. We turned back into the park after CP15 and headed on what looked like the clearer path to CP 16. After some time spent with nearly impenetrable baby pine trees and massive pricker vines, we came to a much clearer area of the woods and found CP 16. We then set our sights on CP 17, but our luck ran out. Like ran out the door, down the road, over the cliff and headfirst into the deep sea of "your navigation abilities mean nothing." We searched and searched, reattacked, searched, reattacked, and searched. Whatever time cushion we thought we had was but a whiff of mist in the woods by the time we threw in the towel on CP 17. Disgruntled and realistic, we realized we had to drop a boatload of points. We figured we would only go for the on-trail and super obvious points. But then. How could we NOT go for that one CP that looked so easy peasy? So we went for 18. It took a few attacks, but we got it. We then high tailed it and trail-ran/shuffled our way to 23, 24, 25, 29, and 28. Looking back, out of the 20 CPs on this leg, only 2 of them were on trail CPs. They did not hold back on navigation because this was a female-only race. I can say I feel like a more experienced, humbled navigator now. 

We ended the trek with a steep drop down a reentrant and emerged from the woods with a smattering of other teams to the final TA and our awaiting bikes. I had run out of water in the last 20 minutes of the trek and eagerly refilled my bottles at the TA. The RD and volunteers at the TA were super encouraging and fun. We were in and out of the TA within 15 minutes. We had planned to have at least 2 hours for the final bike leg, but between our navigational snafus, and needing to completely refill our hydration at the TA, were down to about an hour and a half. We started out the leg with some steep uphills and quickly realized there was no way for us to clear this final stage. Thankfully, we had planned to save the final push to the finish on the flattest part of the leg. We grabbed the first 2 CPs on our planned route and decided to try to take a more downhill trail toward the last clump of points. While we did continue relatively downhill, the direction we took was far longer and slower than we had thought. Looking back, we should have turned around, dealt with the little bit of uphill, and capitalized on the tight group of CPs that were nearly on top on each other, and then make our way down to the flats. Hindsight is a huzzy. Still, we picked off 10 out of 16 points on the leg. We ended the bike coming up the field behind the finish line. I regret not digging in deep and riding our bikes to the end, but near exhaustion caused me to hop off my bike and push it up the last tenth of a mile up the hill. Finish line cheers and high fives are a beautiful thing, especially when they are all genuine. I like racing with and alongside men. I'm not a man hater. But there is something really cool about feeling like you are on a level playing field when you're in an all-female race. I don't mean totally level, cause some of those women were next level navigators. But we all think similarly, we have solidarity, and we are pretty dang sensational. 

The post-race feast hit the spot. Soda, sammies, shrimp, and sweets. What more can you ask for?! I wish I could have connected more with such a beautiful and awesome group of women, but I really enjoyed hanging with my fantastic teammate and chatting with a few familiar faces. 

We had goals. Be competitive, clear the course, and podium. We ended up accomplishing 1/3. We came in 11th overall and 4th in our division; so close!  We got 36/50 points, meh. But I think we were wonderfully competitive out there. Standing around at the awards, Brittany leaned over and said, "You know, neither of us have been doing this for all that long. Imagine how amazing we would be if we were like 20 years in." And in that, I have confidence we're only going to get better. A race where you learn something that can improve your abilities is a bigger win than podiuming and not learning anything. And, a race where you come out with another amazing teammate on your personal race roster is a huge win. So, I can say I solidly won from this non-traditional win. 

Shenandoah River Adventure Race 2025

     If I would have been able to see 15 years into the future when Annika was born, I don't think I could have imagined the relationship we share. Her being the oldest, and the only girl in our lineup, has helped forge an unspoken alliance between us in the household. Our shared love of the Lord has kept our hearts threaded on the same cord. Homeschooling has maintained a close connection (and caused many of the squabbles) between us.  But it's our mutual enjoyment in adventure racing that has provided us with some of our absolute best shared memories. 

                                   

    I first introduced Annika to the awesomeness of adventure racing 3 years ago at an event that was almost literally in our backyard. Our great friend and AR director, Jonathan Offen of Delmarva Adventure Sports, put on a 4-hour race at our beloved Trap Pond State Park, and through a series of serendipitous mishaps, I ended up on a team with both my daughter and my mother. That race was almost perfection in multigenerational glee. The three of us goofed our way into 2nd place in our division and solidified both Annika's and my mom's enjoyment in a sport I adore. 

    Since that race, Annika and I have had the chance to race in multiple races together. Sometimes on the same team, but often even competing against each other. It's been such a thrill to pass her on the course and know she is rocking it out with her teammates. And as much fun as that is, it's so much more fun to be on a united front with her. Last year we chose to tackle the 6-hour edition of Rev 3's Shenandoah River AR in Bentonville Virginia. It was an absolute hoot! We nabbed 1st in our division for that race. Little did Annika know, I was already scheming on bringing her up to the 12-hour level the following year. I knew after racing with her for the 6-hour that she was totally capable of a longer race. After a few well-timed suggestions and a whole lot of convincing and reassuring, she agreed to my little plan. 

    The Friday we were leaving for the race, I was coming out of a nightshift. After a painfully short nap, Annika was waking me up with a cup of coffee and pushing me to get myself together to get going. We hugged all our men and departed perfectly on time. After less than 20 minutes in the van, we both decided we absolutely deserved bougie drinks and gas station snacks to get us through the arduous journey ahead. A few iced coffees and Swedish fish later, we were west bound on route 404. Being as the race was about 4 hours away and wasn't scheduled to end until well into the evening on Saturday, we decided to make a full weekend out of the trip. Chris had been kind enough to book us a 2-night stay at one of the many "murder motels" of Front Royal. Spoiler, no one was murdered, but Annika was convinced we were going to get shanked whenever we came or went from the establishment. 

                                                  

    We opted to swing over to the race start to sign in and grab our maps before heading to the hotel. As much as some may think this little jumpstart to the race isn't in the spirit of the sport, I personally LOVE getting my hands on maps the night before. Maybe it's because sometimes I just want time to stare blankly at all the options before I commit to a plan, or maybe it's because planning the night before gives me the chance to sleep in just a little later in the morning. Either way, it's a sweet little perk to racing with Nick as the Director. We chose to indulge in some comfort food at the Cracker Barrell followed by a few last-minute items at Wal-Mart, and then we headed over to the homicide hotel for a restful, and non-lethal sleep. 

    On race morning we were both up and ready to go without a hitch. We arrived at the race start, unloaded our gear, and tucked our massive 15 passenger van into a tight little assigned parking spot. I recognized just a handful of the racers and Annika quickly spotted our divisional competition. We finished some last-minute drink mixing, and packing organizing before Nick conducted a quick pre-race briefing. We loaded two slightly dilapidated but still functioning school buses and were heading south by 8am. Neither Annika nor I do well with motion sickness, and the jarring, bumpy school bus didn't serve us very well on that 45-minute ride, but we survived. 

    The drop off location was at a small river access parking lot at the end of a roughly 1/4-mile gravel road. The prologue of the race was to run, with the whole team, down to the beginning of the gravel road, bop the CP, and run back to knab a boat. Annika and I maintained a light jog and let all the adrenaline filled racers elbow and bob and weave to their hearts content. We returned to the boats, grabbed up our gear and a canoe, and launched into the river. 

     Our first leg was a 7ish mile paddle down the ripply and slightly rapidy Shenandoah River. I had done a longer version of this same paddle a few years before on the Shenandoah Epic. I remember them making a big deal out of a river feature dubbed as "Compton Rapids." The race staff had drilled it into our minds at that race that at least a quarter of the field would end up swimming the rapids because it was so serious. My team didn't tip in that race, and we didn't tip in this race. The river company that was supplying boats for this race did give a recommendation to stay to the right of the river, but they didn't make a big fuss out of the rapids. I had the thought it was going to be a significant challenge to navigate the rapid well, but it was over before I realized we were in the thick of it. We made it through unscathed, just a little cooler from the fun little hydraulic waves and splashes. The rest of the paddle had a few smatterings of class I-II fun but was mainly flat and flowing. Annika lost interest in the concept of paddling about 2 hours into the venture. After some coaxing, convincing, and cajoling, we maintained a somewhat rhythmic rowing together to mile marker 25. We also easily hit all 5 checkpoints on the leg. 

The final CP was slightly downstream from the boat take out, so we had an opportunity to eye the water levels at the river where we would have to make our first major decision of the race. The next leg of the race was the trekking section which housed 14 checkpoints hidden within the confines of the Shenandoah River State Park. The very first, and most obvious CP was located just on the other side of the river from the TA. We could either keep our feet dry and trek nearly a mile down the river to a bridge or we could link arms and ford the river and shave off at least 30 minutes of trekking. I completely left the decision up to Annika. I knew it made so much more sense to cross the river, but I also knew a wet and disgruntled 15-year-old wouldn't want to put out much effort on trekking through the hot, humid, and buggy afternoon. Ms. Annika came through and actually suggested the idea before I could formulate my most convincing argument to even consider the thought. 

We found the shallowest, rock riddled path across the river, linked arms, and ever so wobbly and graceful-ish-ly crossed the flowing waters of the Shenandoah. We slipped, whooped, squealed, and giggled until we came to a small pebble beach. We quickly bushwacked the short distance through the woods to the bike trail. Thankfully, we had had the forethought to wear the wet shoes we had from the paddle and carried our dry socks and shoes in a dry bag above our heads. After changing into our dry trail runners, we left our stinky, soggy kicks hidden in the wood line. 

Together we nabbed CP after CP, none of which were putting up too much of a fight. The placement of the CPs played well to my navigation abilities. Many were off trail, but with pretty obvious geographical giveaways. We followed the river trail that meandered through thickets of pawpaw trees
. Annika found irrational joy out of squishing the overripe fruits under her feet. I reached down and grabbed one up before she could trample it and started dissecting it to make sure it was the native fruit I thought it was. Annika could see me thinking and smacked the fruit out of my hands sternly saying "MOM! You CANNOT try one of your hippy foraging foods while we're racing! What if you get bubble guts?! I'm not losing because you want to eat from the woods!" She is my rational voice from time to time. 

 Later in the trek we were parallelling an off-limits road when the heat of the day, incessant gnats kamikazeing into our eyes, and sore feet got the best of my teenage teammate. I knew she was starting to have enough of the trek, but I was taken off guard when she yelled out "I QUIT! THIS IS DUMB! I HATE THIS!" How was I to deal with this little conundrum? Just quietly keep walking while passing her pieces of candy and pointing out weird looking mushrooms, of course! And it worked. After her little tantrum she soon returned to her usual go with the flow self. We had cleared the course up to this point, but I knew we were in need of shaving off a few points to keep our planned times in order. We chose to ditch a few far placed outliers and scurred down a reentrant to the main bike path that encompasses the lower part of Shenandoah River State Park. We trotted back to our stinky, soppy shoes, traded out our dry kicks and forded back across the river to our waiting bikes and the final leg of the race. 

Returning to the TA, we transitioned over to our bikes relatively swiftly and were off on the road from the Low Water Bridge Campground back over to the State Park. We chose to begin the bike with the most elevation gain first and leave the final race back to the finish on the flat section of the River trail. Annika held her own on the punchy ascents and technical descents, occasionally choosing to hike a bike over saying a hail-Mary and winging it like her momma. We passed plenty of other teams and were passed by others. Picking off CP after CP, we quickly realized my intended route left much to be desired. I'm not sure where my mind was when I was route planning the attack for this bike leg, but I had left off so many low hanging fruits it was embarrassing. We reevaluated and grabbed at least 3 extra points that I had assumed we wouldn't have time for. As the sun started its descent and the trails became harder and harder to see, we stopped to dawn our headlamps and down a few fruit strips and gels. The subsequent energy boost gave us the gusto to push hard all the way back to the finish where the light rain began to cover our gear. 

As we came flying under the REV3 arch I heard Annika yelling something, but I was fixated on making it over to the tent where I was sure we had to check in for our final CP. Alas, my daughter was right again, and the final CP was hanging from the middle of the arch I had just flown past. This gave her all the reasoning in the world to voice her absolute frustration with her totally not cool and completely deaf mother. Eh, I'm kinda used to being on the receiving end of that these days. But you know what? If that is the price to pay for having the chance to spend an entire day with one of my favorite people, doing one of my favorite things, then its a price I'm totally willing to pay.  

We had finished about 30 minutes before the official race end, so I took the opportunity to haul a majority of our gear back to the van. After 3 trips, all we had left to haul back was the gear bin. So, we used that as our seat and waited for the awards ceremony as we chugged a few sodas and snacked on some chips. The hotdog dinner didn't draw our appetites as much as our plans for grabbing some more appetizing take out on our way back to the hotel. I had the chance to catch up with a few other racers I see pretty often, and others I had never met before. Soon enough, Jesse Tubbs drew everyone's attention and the awards began. We applauded those who cleared the course and won their divisions. I always have the intention to track those people down and pick their brains on route choices but never seem get the chance. My own laziness, really.  Finally, they came to the all-female division... third place was called, not us. Second place was called, not us. First place was announced as "a mother-daughter team.... Wild and No Longer a Child!" That's us!! We won first in our division! Second year in a row!! We had our picture snapped, congratulations poured over us, and I could have just squeezed the dickens out of that daughter of mine! She resisted my outpouring of affection, but her radiant smile showed she was just as excited and proud as I was. 

After the crowd dispersed, I approached Jesse to thank him for a great event and give him kudos for all the work he does with the youth of our sport. After chatting for a few minutes, we realized Annika was the youngest racer in the 12-hour event, so she was given her own trophy for that honor. Awesome! With plaques under one arm, and hauling the gear bin with the other, we made our way back to the van. After a few quick messages and calls to update family and friends on our race, we headed back toward Front Royal for some well-earned food and rest. We giggled, commiserated, and relived all the details around the past 12 hours over fried chicken and flat sprite. The whole trip was perfection in mother-daughter bonding. And I can't wait for the next one.