Rick Eastman, the Race Director, billed this race as a short training race for beginners. Well, a few of us intermediate racers (I may be over stating my skill level a bit, but it’s my report) were given a nice opportunity to relearn a thing or two ourselves. First and forever, trust only your map, your eyes, and those of your team mates.  Don’t be a lemming and blindly jump to your death behind the other lemmings (metaphorically speaking of course).

Eastman set out a really nice race with good maps and clear, easy to follow directions (it really helps to read them too). The heat wasn’t extreme, but it was plenty warm and the race was challenging.

The race began with one of those annoying little decode the message puzzles to find out what the first leg of the race would be. Where’s that Rhodes Scholar when you need her? As I struggled with the decoding, I could see that the first leg was the trek because racers were running past me leaving the Transition Area (TA) on the way to Check Point 1 (CP1).  I finally finished the blasted code and was off on my way with about a third of the racers still working through the puzzle (maybe it was a quarter, or less, suffice to say that I wasn’t last).  It was easy to see which way to go to CP1 –– follow the stream of racers heading south.

CP1 was in a little drainage/trail head on the south edge of the park and easy to find.  A quick glance at the map told me that CP2 was in a small saddle to the east of CP1.  The passport (rule book) said that we had to ". . . get the name on the bench."  Put the two together and it was clear that we were looking for a bench in a small saddle.  I could see the stream of racers climbing up the trail on a hill to the east.  I followed them.  Soon (too soon) we were at a bench in a small saddle and people were busy writing the name noted on the bench.  I blindly jumped off the cliff behind them.  Remember we are talking in metaphors here.  I wrote the name too.  I failed to confirm for myself that this indeed was CP2.  Had I taken ten seconds to check my map I would have seen that there was a saddle in between CP1 and the saddle containing CP2, and that there was a small drainage between the two saddles. This saddle pretty much opened east-west where the CP2 saddle was north-south. Three major clues that this was the wrong saddle were screaming at me from the map, but I could not hear them because I was not listening.  I was too busy lemming-ing.

I left the wrong saddle with the wrong name from the wrong bench and ran back to the TA.  At the TA, I dragged my body through the "crawl under the picnic table" torture test (I’m way too old for that kind of crap).  Then I tossed the basket ball through the hoop and was ready to start out on the bike leg when I heard comment that made me question my CP2 location.  I checked my map.  Oh #$%$!  It took about two seconds to see what happened.  I muttered a bunch of unmentionable things to myself.  I remembered reading Rule 1 in the passport: "All checkpoints must be completed in order from lowest to highest.  If a checkpoint is missed, your entire team must return to that checkpoint and re-complete all remaining checkpoints in order."  If I did not return to CP2, Rule 1 would cause me to DNF (Did Not Finish - a fate worse than death).  But returning to CP2 would put me way behind the time curve and probably cause me to DNF anyway.  Metaphorically speaking, I was a dead lemming walking.  I thought about quitting, but I drove all the way from Tucson in the dark, I wasn’t about to quit.

I found the race director and advised him that I missed CP2 and was returning to get it - just in case anyone wondered what happened to me.  I left the TA heading back to CP2.  As I was jogging down the trail I kept remembering my grand mother’s favorite saying, "What you don’t have in your head you have to have in your feet" so very true.

After locating the correct CP2, I headed back to the TA to begin the bike leg.  I passed a few other racers on their way back to CP2 to correct their boo boos.  At the TA, I tanked up on water and began my lonely journey to find the bike CP’s.  By now, all the other racers had to be miles and miles ahead of me.

The first Bike CP was pretty easy - some graffiti in a tunnel under the freeway.  From there it was single track bike trails to find CP4.  The bike trails were not marked on the map so I had to stop constantly and check my position vs the surrounding mountains.  The maps were good quality and it was easy to keep a good fix on my location.  When I got in the vicinity of CP4 (a yellow sign) I could see what appeared to be the correct sign in what appeared to be the correct location.  The requirement was to get a number from the back of the sign, on the post, near the ground.  I looked at the back of the sign and saw nothing.  Hmmmmm.  Note: I had a preconceived notion that I was looking for a government stenciled number or sticker.  Consequently, I saw nothing because I didn’t see what I expected to see.  I noticed another yellow sign about 20 yards away.  I rode to that sign - nothing.  I saw another sign a little farther - again, nothing.  I kept going and checked five signs - nothing.  I re-checked the map. I clearly had gone about a quarter mile too far.  I started back double checking all signs.  Finally, I made it back to the first sign (the one that matched the CP plot on the map).  I got down on my knees, took off my glasses (I have a new prescription, I just haven’t bothered to buying new glasses) and examined the post . Ah Ha!  There it is, a tiny little number 6 written in what looks like red sharpie pen.  Rick, you dog. That’s two times today you’ve got me and I’ve pissed away over 20 minutes looking for that $%#ing number.

Off I went, slipping and sliding over the single track heading back to find CP5.  I walked a lot of the single track on the west side of the freeway.  It was a little steep and rocky in spots.  I get overly cautious when I’m riding alone.  Many years ago, I launched myself over my handle bars and planted my face firmly in the ground.  It made a lasting impression (I think that might be a pun).  Anyhow, I guess one can say that I get pretty timid when I’m biking alone in unfamiliar single track. Whatever, that’s all pretty irrelevant.

When I arrived at CP5, I found that the "metal and masonry structure" mentioned in the passport was a pedestrian bridge across the freeway.  I began searching the east end of the bridge for a three letter code on a white sticker.  I couldn’t find anything.  I read the instructions again.  I searched some more - still nothing.  Ok, I read the instructions one more time. This time, the words jumped off the page at me,  ". . . the handrail directly above the center of Hwy 51. . . " Jeeze, I was searching the wrong part of the bridge.  If at first you don’t succeed, read the instructions very carefully.  I found the code in the middle of the bridge right where the instructions said it would be, but only after pissing another 10+ minutes down the toilet.  I promptly set out to CP6.  Time was my enemy now.  I cussed myself all the way to CP6.

There was nothing weird about CP6.  I found it easily and dashed off to find CP7.  By now I was paying more attention to "reading the instructions." That was a big help!

CP’s 6 and 7 are along the north edge of the park where the trail runs right outside some very nice homes with really nice pools [If I lived there I’d put up a wall to keep the grungy mountain bikers from ogling me in my pool. That by no means implies that anyone would want to ogle me.  It’s simply a matter of principle.]   CP7 like all of the CP’s was right were the map said it would be.  I met a cheerful volunteer at CP7 who was giving away free water.  He also advised me that I was not last.  He had three other teams yet to come through CP7.  I figured that those poor souls were either lost or they quit and went back to the TA to get food.

Here’s where Rick got me a third time and my race went to hell in a handbasket.  I was riding away from CP7, scouting the trails to see which one was most likely to take me toward CP8 when I thought I heard someone call my name. It’s really odd to be out in the middle of nowhere and hear someone yell your name.  I screwed up (again).  Curious to see who might be calling my name, I stopped and looked around.  I saw that it was that nice man at CP7.  How did he know my name?  He was waving at me to come back.  Perhaps I dropped something.  I started back and he yelled that Rick said I was to return to the TA by the most expeditious means.  "Children, put down your pencils and close your books. You are out of time."  Nuts. Nuts. Nuts!  30 more seconds and I would have been out of ear shot and on my merry way to CP8 (and Rick would have had to wait another 40 to 60 min +or- before closing up shop). Nuts.

All in all, it was a good race.  Fun? Yeah, I had a good time in spite of all my screw ups.  I got to reinforce some basic principles for future races when it errors will count for more than humiliation points.  I scored enough of those today to last quite a while.  Next time anyone yells at me in a race, I’m just going to duck my head, pretend I didn’t hear them, and go faster.  And, regarding that little map thing . . . . I’m gonna get so much crap when Jim and Jane return from Utah.

 

Lessons learned:

 

1. Don’t get up before 5:00 AM for anything..

2. Read the rules/directions carefully.

3. Only follow the lemmings when they are going where you are going.

4. Trust only your map, your eyes, and your team mates when navigating.

5.   Train, train, train  (it really helps if you have to run the trek twice)

Saturday morning, I got out of bed at 3:15 am to drive to Phoenix for the Extreme Heat Mini-AR Summer Series Race at Dreamy Draw Park.   I should have my head examined! 

 

Rick Eastman shamed me into posting this report as a learning experience.

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Gerry doing his pre-race stretches.

After driving to Phoenix from Tucson —  finally sunrise!

Pre-race group photo.  The sun is finally up.