My very first Adventure Race ever was a Two Rivers put on by the renowned Rootstock Racing. It's kinda the race to which I'll forever compare other races. This year's edition was also unparalleled. It still had the standard challenging and deliberate navigation, along with a sweet sense of true community, but it had something altogether aberrant. It had a metropolis. Not just any urban spread, but an American classic of a true city. It had Philly. I can honestly say I was more nervous about the sights and scenarios that could play out on this race than I have been since my first Two Rivers four years ago. I’m so glad I can say I came out alive, well, and with squashed fears surrounding the City of Brotherly Love. It was still totally wild, but a different kind of wild.
Being held just over two hours from home, the trip to Philly became a teeny tiny get-a-way, and Chris and I got a hotel room for the night before the race. With a race check in time of FOUR AM there was no way we could make the drive from home that morning. Our hotel of (economical) choice was nice and kitschy with all the tacky flavor one can expect for less than $200/night. Still, it was clean, semi-quiet, and warmer than camping out in a tent.
On Friday evening we grabbed some dinner from an unsuspectingly nice ramen restaurant just down the street from our hotel, and headed toward the Discovery Center for check in. After some sobering traffic and rerouting, we arrived and parked right next to my good friend Becky. The more I immerse myself into this community of AR, the more I love every chance I get to see my fellow racers. In the short time we were there dropping off our bikes and grabbing our course manual, I enjoyed multiple conversations with our competition. This was going to be a great race, if for no other reason than the opportunities to rub shoulders with some of my favorite athletes out on the course.
Our
night was short and restless, and before we knew it our alarms were clanging us
awake at three AM. We heated up some Starbucks we had bought the night before,
dressed and were out the door by 3:40. The front desk attendant was kicked back
and snoring as we passed by, but called out a “Have a great day!” as we passed
through the door. Who said Philadelphians weren’t pleasant?
Arriving
back to the Discovery Center we set to work dropping off our paddle bag and
gear bin and grabbed our precious maps. I, like the rest of the race field,
had suspicions about where Brent and Abby would send us over the next 26 hours.
No part of me had considered being sent over state lines to New Jersey. Arm Pit
state or no, the course looked fantastic. They announced we would get two
additional maps out on the course, but from the maps I was excitedly marking
up, it already looked like a heck of a feat to conquer. With 166 checkpoints
for the taking, Chris and I quickly decided to tailor down our plan. We
strategized getting all the mandatory and roughly half the optional CPs on each
leg. With 11 teams in our division, we didn’t see the possibility of a podium
finish, so we looked more toward the fun of the experience and enjoying the
ride.
At
just before 5:00, two classic school buses came cruising up to the parking lot.
We all filed on and claimed seats. I had planned out our routes and goals so
all I had left to do on the bus was organize the maps into my case. Folding,
shuffling, and aligning nine maps in a seat designed for school children with
my husband and our two heavily laden packs was no easy feat. And yet, by the
time we arrived to Cooper River Park, I was as organized as I would be for the
remainer of the day. Our driver was apparently less familiar with New Jersey
than she was with Philadelphia, because after about 10 additional minutes of
lefts, rights, hard braking, and curb jumping, we arrived at the start.
Climbing
off the nice and warm bus and into the cool, brisk, dark morning sent my body
into immediate shivers. It was probably a mixture of adrenaline as well as the
35-degree air, but I was totally questioning my choice of clothing. 4 hours out
on the water, in an inflatable pack raft, with temps in the 30’s wasn’t
sounding very enticing. I had one of those moments where you can’t help but
think “why didn’t I get into pickleball instead of this craziness?!” I knew a
few minutes of paddling would warm me up, and by the time the sun made its
appearance, I would probably regret the multiple layers I was already wrapped
in.
Brent
and Abby made a few quick announcements, answered a few questions, and began
the count down. Chris and I clicked on our watches and started our race. Well,
we strolled over to our paddle bag as we watched the majority of the field
sprint around. I’ve learned from the many races I’ve done with Chris, there is
minimal running in his racing, and none to be had at the start, unless it’s a
prologue. We easily found our paddle bag and set to work like a well-oiled
machine. Wordlessly, we fell into our jobs; him inflating the raft and me
organizing the dry bag, assembling the paddles, attaching the glow stick, and
repacking the paddle bag. I don’t think we had discussed our jobs for this, but
I love that we were able to get the tasks done efficiently and quickly. Maybe
racing does showcase just how well you can work with someone. Especially your
spouse.
Stage
A: Cooper River, 4/4 mandatory ½ optional
I
wish I knew our exact timing, but all I can say is that we were on the water
toward the front of the pack. We pushed off from the dock with Chris in the
front and me at the helm. While this arrangement works flawlessly for us in a
canoe, it didn’t seem to work well in a packraft. With a majority of the weight
toward the front of the raft, there was an ominous crease in the center of the
vessel. Not enough to take on water, but it made me nervous looking around at
all the other rafts and seeing smooth sides. Still, we made it work and paddled
well to the first CP. As I was crawling out of the back of the pack and over a
small revetment, I heard Chris mumble something under his breath. I looked down
and noticed I was standing directly on his hand as I was scrambling up the
wall. Oops. I called out a quick apology as I ran toward the memorial to punch
our very first CP. Instinctively, I searched for an orange and white flag and
quickly remembered that not a single one of the 166 checkpoints would be
flagged with a traditional control. Instead, we were searching for the tiny 1in
x 3in punch that normally hangs below the bright flags. Being within reach and
view of the public made our CPs prime targets for kleptomaniacs, so Brent opted
to be a slight bit forgiving with the placement of CPs, but still with the
intent to not be obvious. I got to the punch just as Dennis, a fellow Delmarva
Adventure Sports teammate, was punching his passport. We did our standard
heckling and continued on our ways. I returned to the boat as Chris was
finishing up topping our inflation off with the automatic air pump.
We transitioned well and were
dressed and heading to the secret mini-stage within minutes. Just beyond the
Marina a huge battleship was looming at the end of a dock. We were given a
small map with a handful of checkpoints hidden in the nooks and crannies of the
USS New Jersey battleship. With the explicit rules to WALK, we scurried to and
fro on the deck and compartments of the warship and cleared the stage in less
than 15 minutes. It was actually a really fun, and giddy experience! Chris
mentioned he wished we would have had a chance to really look at the ship, but
I’m not as much of a history/military buff as him, so the quick escapade was
just perfect in my opinion.
Stage
B: Downtown Philadelphia, 2/2 Mandatory, 3/6 Optional
We returned to the TA, handed over
our mini passport and headed out on our bikes to the awaiting chaos of the
city. After a few moments to truly orient myself to the map, we crossed the
Benjamin Franklin Bridge we had glided under roughly an hour before. Over the
next hour or so we scuttled through the streets of Philly from Franklin Park to
Franklin Fountain and from Chestnut Street to Jim’s Steaks. We glided past the
stadiums that held all the city’s beloved sports teams and ended up at the FDR
park where we were greeted by bubbly volunteers and some coveted Wawa pretzels.
Stage
C: FDR Park, 14/14 Mandatory, 3/6 Optional
This
O-course held 14 mandatory points and 6 optionals. We stuck to our plan of
getting all the mandatory and half the optionals well. While we found ourselves
on the wrong side of a fence for about a mile, a quick fence jump and thick
bushwhack landed us only slightly off course. We had to try for one of the
points twice and were sorely befuddled by a multi-gated tennis court, but
overall made out well on the course. Returning to the TA, we were instructed on
an unplanned alteration to the course around CP 23. It seemed simple enough.
Stage
D (Bike): The Long Ride, 19/19 Mandatory, 11/21 Optional
The next few miles of biking took us through a
new area of Philadelphia. The maps were clearly marked with routes that were
more bike friendly than other options, but none of them seemed to be efficient
to get us to the trailhead of the Schuylkill River Trail. Instead, we opted for
a route that took us along a makeshift road that traversed underneath an
elevated set of train tracks. While I was positive we were on a direct route,
it was obvious it wasn’t the most bike friendly of areas. Blind intersections,
moody drivers, and a neighborhood that was reminiscent of “The Fast and the
Furious” made us feel as though a slightly less direct route may have been a
better choice. While people hidden behind their windshields weren’t fans of our
presence on the bikes, everyone we passed that I was able to make eye contact
with and smile to quickly returned a smile or some sort of sign of pleasant
acknowledgment. It was both surprising and relieving. In my mind, a
prerequisite for living in a city was to be hardened and cold to everyone you
come in contact with. Philly proved me wrong.
We accessed the SRT and scooted along the
forgiving paved path for the next few miles until we came to the detour that
had been perfectly explained to us at the previous TA. Perfectly explained, and
then perfectly forgotten. We managed to figure out a route after a few wrong
turns and dead ends, but we lost a few more precious minutes in our
adventuring. We eventually made it to the Lemon Hill bike trails and finally
across the West Girard Avenue Bridge.
Stage
D (Trek): Philadelphia Safari, 0/0 Mandatory, 0/16 Optional
As we cruised into the Philadelphia
Zoo entrance we were greeted by my friend Dave, who was volunteering for the
race. We knew we only had until 4pm to grab as many points as we could within
the walls of the Zoo, so we quickly made it through security and scurried as
fast as we could to the gated off area where we would drop our bikes and check
in. As we passed through the gates, we crossed paths with Becky and Dan who
said the stage was super fun and quick. I was so excited to blast through (but
again, at a walking pace) the paths of the zoo and lay eyes on all the awesome
exhibits that we had time for. Alas, Brent came to us with some tragic news.
Although we had made it to the Zoo before closing time, we hadn’t made the
cutoff imposed by Zoo staff that all racers had to have started the o-course by
3:30 to be allowed entry. It was 3:38. For the love. As soon as he said those
words my mind flashed to the many instances where we had lost a minute here, or
five minutes there making silly little mistakes over the previous few hours. It’s
such a truth that even the smallest things in AR can make or break your race. I
confirmed that there were no mandatory points within the zoo, and was able to
swallow the painful pill that although we lost the chance for 16 easy points,
we hadn’t lost the opportunity to be official finishers.
We took the chance to eat a good
chunk of calories, chug down a refreshing amount of water, and catch our breath
for a few minutes. Dennis waddled over with a big smile on his face saying that
he and Wilo were having a great race. They had cleared the Zoo o-course and
really done well on all of the previous stages. I knew we had accomplished
everything we had set out to do up until this set back, so we also were having
our own great race. But man, it really sucked missing such a fun stage in the
race.
Stage
D (Bike): *Still* The Long Ride
We dawned our lighting systems, adjusted our packs, and headed back out into the streets of Philadelphia. We grabbed a handful of points tucked between museums, water fountains, and signposts. Eventually, we found ourselves back in the woodlands of Philly as the sun gave off its last remnants of illumination. Some CPs nearly jumped out at us, others put up a persnickety fight, but we grabbed everything we went for. After clipping CP 39 that was housed at the top of a rather slippery-slidey waterfall, we were faced with a navigational crossroad. The next CP was along the same river we were facing, but the concept of crossing the river, then recrossing it back, never honestly occurred to me. Rather, I eyed up a route that would take us through a bit more urban sprawl and then we would hop on a lovely "bike friendly" path that would drop us directly onto the Cynwyd Heritage Trail.
We kept on the route I had planned, committed wholly, even to the point of bombing down a long descending road that no one would want to have to climb back up. We had to climb back up. The "bike friendly" route, come to find out, went through a cemetery that was closed for the night. We weren't alone in our miscalculation and were able to put our heads together with another 2-person team, and in allegiance, we devised a plan to correct for our locked-out lane. After grabbing up CP 40, we crossed the beautifully lite and clean Manayunk Bridge. It was wild how quickly we went from a pristine, bike-friendly overpass, to the shady, old-mattress lined, gravel paths that dropped us onto Umbria Road. Looking back, there was a trail that paralleled the river for a while longer that we must have missed, so our sketchy route was our own doing. We found our way to CP 41, though not nearly as directly as possible, and eventually descended into the Wissahicken bike trails of doom.
Stage E (Bike): Wissahicken Pairs, 7/7 Mandatory, 1 Bonus Pair Point
Over the next nearly 4 hours we trudged up and down, back and forth, over and under the trails of this surprisingly remote feeling park in the outskirts of Philly. We rode what we could, prayed down some trails we certainly should have walked but opted to try our luck on, and hike-a-biked up more rock-laden paths than I care to remember. We crossed the Wissahicken Creek at least 3 or 4 times, traversed trails with names like "Forbidden Drive" and "Death Drop" and eventually made our way to the much-anticipated TA 4.
Transitioning in a beautiful residential area, in the middle of the night, with dozens of other delirious racers is a strange event. Once we checked in and were handed the next map that held our upcoming overnight trek-quest, I had only one thing on my mind. I couldn't get to my coveted cup-o-noodles fast enough! I had been dreaming of that salty, ultra processed, life-giving gunk for hours! While we were flitting about trying to be as efficient as possible in our current states of near exhaustion, Brent came to check in on us. I can't sing the man's praises enough. Even with a field of over 40 teams, he still finds the time to pour into all his little racers. He assured us that we had plenty of options since we had checked off the required 7 points on our previous ride. He also stressed that we shouldn't go into the upcoming trek with thoughts of speed and nimbleness. Many of the trails and routes out on the overnight trek would be slow going, some even treacherous. He is a man of his word.
Stage F (Trek): The Wiss, 17/17 Mandatory, 0/17 Optional
With bellies full of warm sustenance, Chris and I headed off into the surprisingly not too cold night. This trek section boasted two different "stream challenges"; one mandatory, the other optional. We went straight for the mandatory to check that one off the list. It proved to be one of the most fun sections of the race for me. I love to hop, skip, balance, and scale around like a kid. Whenever I try to explain adventure racing to someone, I always have to say, "it's the only time you can play around in the woods as an adult and it's not too weird." Although I had countless near misses, and I ended up with a tear in the butt of my leggings so big I had to wrap my long sleeve shirt around my waist for modesty's sake, it was an absolute hoot! Chris eventually had enough of the slipping, sliding, and scaling, so he traversed the high route and kept an eagle's eye out for any CPs that might reflect his light from the higher vantage point.
Once I punched all 8 CPs on Creisheim Creek, we set off in search of the remaining mandatory points. I tested the waters once or twice, throwing out the idea of grabbing one or two optional points, but Chris was at the point of just wanting to complete the race. It didn't hurt my feelings. Multiple times we came to a CP at the exact same time as other teams, but from different directions. I always think that is so cool. Multiple lines of attack that all work. We helped other teams find a few points, and others helped us. We fell in line with a few teams and enjoyed listening to their stories and tales. After we punched the final CP of the stage, we headed back to the TA, ready for a moment of rest.
Stage.... something: Another chance to grab more points 0/whatever we left out on Stage D
Arriving back to the TA, things were quieter and less busy. Those who were there sat in quiet groups or snoozing around the ever so tempting fire. We checked in and then out within a few minutes. The only thing left in the race was to make it to the finish line alive. The intended route was probably through more single track and picking up a few more low hanging fruits, but Chris and I opted to take solid roadways instead. We overheard another team talking about this same plan and conferred.
Chris and I set out just as the first slivers of morning light were dancing on the horizon. As we cruised down side streets and then crossed over larger ones, we stopped to check our maps again. Just then, the other team with the same thought process glided up beside us. Together we wondered the streets of Philly for a silly amount of time until we finally found the familiar Schuylkill River Trail. Once we were on an assured route to the finish, Chris and I thanked the RAC team and headed off to our finish. We passed over streets we had driven down the day before when life seemed totally normal and routine. And while I hadn't really changed physically, aside from an uncanny amount of sodium and lactic acid in my body, I knew I had changed, yet again. Because every race has a way of rewiring my brain. It can be increased resilience, or patience, or humility, or even humor, but without a doubt, every race changes me.
We stormed into the finish to cow bells and cheers. Familiar faces smiled and cheered for us as we came to a stop under the Rootstock arch. We paused for our picture to be snapped and headed straight to Mary and Abby to trade in our passport and tracker for our finisher medals and t-shirts. Over the next hour and half, we saw friends cross the finish line with everything from smiles to grimaces to tears. We told stories of our escapades and laughed with friends over theirs. The race was over, but reliving the race through stories was almost as much fun. The morning came to an end with the awards ceremony and within minutes we were packed up in the car, nuzzled down in our heated seats away from the blowing winds that stormed into the city.
Philadelphia will never be the same in my mind. Hardened city dwellers have been replaced by smiling faces. Mazes of trash lined streets have been replaced by Oregon Avenue and Belmont Avenue. Video clips of Kensington have been replaced with FDR park, Wissahicken, and Lemon Hill. I don't think we'll be selling our little plot of land on Little Hill for any real estate within 50 miles of Philadelphia, but my memories of our race will give me the warm fuzzies when I think of the City of Brotherly Love.
No comments:
Post a Comment