Open 5, Scotland, 4 Nov 2012

The opening race of the Haglofs 2012-2013 Open 5 Series is now in the books.  Many of us have been waiting immpatiently all summer for these races to start up again...short, sharp, great competition, and smooth organization.  What more can you ask for in a race, really?

Since Open 5 series races are spread around the whole of the UK, the first one required the long drive up to Scotland.   This would only be my 4th visit up there, and Tom was willing to share the drive up, so the time went fast as I saw more new scenery.  Even the weather cooperated, sunshine and calm winds making us squint up at the hills as we arrived at the start hall.   Come to think of it, the weather for these events is either really good, or really, REALLY bad....perhaps that's the nature of a winter series.  There were chunks of ice in all the mud puddles, so although the sun was shining our feet were very cold. 

The Pentlands is a tiny area of wildness on the edge of Edinburgh, barely far enough way from the motorway to be quiet, yet rough and tough as any fell I've run on.   Rosemary Byde was the guest course planner for the event, commuting from her flat in the city to find exciting places to hide the controls.   And a wonderful job she did too (especially as I ended coming back on time!)

I had a bit of a panic at the starting line, when I really just didn't want to start.  I think mentally it just meant the line between when I was studying the map and all things were possible, to the time when I could potentially get lost, muddy, crash, come back late, or even have perfect race.  Perhaps I was used to racing these events with Sarah, and something just didn't feel right about going out solo!   I got past that "failure to start" moment, and headed off up the narrow lane into the hills, sharing it with cars, bikes, and a few ponies.   The run went really well, I have to say.  I collected all the controls I planned on getting and was back within 2 hours.  Although I came back a little dirtier, after butt-sliding down a steep hill on the grass, and then slipping in the mud.  After regaining my feet I must have looked like I had rolled in red clay....and I wasn't the only one. 

Back out on the bike, I choose the hardest sections first, knowing that I could always zoom home on the roads on the back half of the circle if I was late.  Unfortunately most of the high value controls were on the backside of the circle too!  The trails started out really terrible...steep, boggy, and mostly unridable.  I was pushing my bike, cursing the mud, and wondering if it would ever get better.  Where were all the nice trails everyone was raving about?!?!   In the meantime, I spent 1 hr 40 minutes of my remaining time on the first 1/3 of the bike circle.   The math really didn't add up with that, meaning that I then had 1 hr 20 minutes to do 2/3 of the circle.  Impossible?   I started wondering how many HOURS I would be back late to the finish....

Luckily for me, the trails improved when I reached a reservoir, and I sped along on tarmac and level trails to the bottom half of my route and the highest value control of the day.  Whew.   Although there were still a lot of controls to find and I couldn't afford to make any mistakes.  The land continued to be pretty flat, with fast trails, and I found myself with with possibly enough time to everything I wanted.  Well, not everything I wanted, but everything I could realistically collect!   However there was one off-road section remaining and if it was boggy I knew I would get back late.  I skipped a control immediately, to make sure that I could get back on time, which I did with 4 minutes to spare.

I felt like I had done really well, and I was happy with my route choices in the end.  Much happier than I had been 1 hr 40 minutes into the bike section, that's for sure!   Unfortunately two other female solos were able to best me by just 5 points to push me down into 3rd place.  Kudos to them and the race is on for next month!  

Round Rotherham 50 Mile, 20 Oct 2012

Third time's a charm, and this will be the only race that I have managed to do every year since moving to England.  (I really just do it for the T-shirt although this year it was bright orange, making it virtually unwearable unless I find myself running through hunting season!).

As a side note, the streak will have to stop with just three, as I won't be around here next year.  I am switching careers and trying out something new. Finally I will also have a job that I can talk about without getting thrown in jail, but even better will actually have something to do with the outdoors.  A lot actually.  More on that later.  Hmmm.  Anyway, we are moving out of the UK in March 2013, to Utah in the States still known as the Colonies for some of my teammates.  Really excited to move out west.  Sad to leave the UK and the wonderful racing scene here.

Back to the race, I was feeling rather unprepared for this year's Round Rotherham.  50 miles is a long way, and with my big adventure races and a few niggling injuries, I hadn't run more than 6 miles at a stretch for almost 6 months.  But I had done a lot of walking.  I hoped that walking fitness would carry me through. 

It didn't.  As I write this a few days later my legs are still terribly painful, and the last 20 miles of the race was a lesson in the value of proper preparation.  An acute, painful lesson.

The race started off kindly enough.   I met up with Karen, Nick, Roger, and Mike before the race, in the tradition of friends who only meet a few times a year before and after big runs! 

It was a beautiful day with a great forecast.  Not cold, not windy, not rainy, why do I always feel the need to list all the things that could be bad? and quite sunny.  Once the sun came up, anyway.  It was warm enough that a light shirt was perfect the entire day, and I never got hot or cold.  With no required kit list to speak of, my lightest pack contained only food, a few bandaids, and a windshirt.   After the heavy packs of adventure racing I hardly knew this one was there.

Since the job change requires me to move, I will essentially saying goodbye to all things British over the winter as I make my last visits to my favorite places.  I found myself doing the same during the race, but this time I was noticing all of the places where I got lost the first year!   There must have been at least 5 or 6 locations where I added a little mileage to the already long 50 mile route, including the major detour which made it 60 miles instead of 50.  Ouch.  I managed to stick to the route (even in my head I now pronounce this word as "root" like the Brits, thanks Gavin!?!) this year, although it still seemed like a long way around.

I was faster through the first half this time, even with the added mud and sticky clay from all the recent rains.  My shoes acquired a layer of the goo which managed to stick on the entire race, I'm sure it must have weighed a pound or two per foot!   I'm not going to rave about the field crossings...they were slippery as snot and quite a few people were sporting muddy spots on their bums by the end of the race.  I managed to fall only once but keeping my balance in the mud took extra effort. 

Still, a very pleasant route (root?) by streams, canals, neighborhoods, overlooks, parks, etc.   I was starting to think of a PB at 30 miles when we got our halfway bags.  Perhaps I felt faster than I really was, after seeing Nick Ham at the checkpoint, as he is usually far in front of me.  Unfortunately I left my pain medication in that bag, thinking I wouldn't need it.  About 10 minutes out of the checkpoint, I realized that I really did need it.  There went my PB and here came the needles in my muscles with every running step.  Ouch. By the last 10 miles I couldn't run a lick, the best I could manage was a fast walk.  The volunteers at all the checkpoints were always very cheerful and helpful, (and well stocked with good eats) but by the last one it was all I could do to say "thanks" before continuing to the last 3, painful miles.  Finally time was 10:46, which was almost 45 minutes longer than my time of last year.  But still 3 hours faster than when I got lost in 2010! 

After Nick posts his photos (I'm sure that's what slowed him down so I could catch him), I'll borrow a few to add to this post.  It really was a gorgeous day, and luckily I even finished in full daylight because I forgot my headlamp in my halfway bag, too! 

Nidderdale Bike Orienteering, 13 Oct 2012

How cool is it to have a checkpoint near my house! 

This was the last race in the summer series of the North Yorkshire Mountain Bike Orienteering club (NYMBO) (although I missed all the rest of them).  The race was held in Dacre Banks in the Nidderdale valley, which is only a couple of miles from my house, so I rode my bike to the start as a little warm-up.   The race map, I was excited to see, covered the area including Brimham Rocks and my own backyard to the south!   Due to my accumulated forays on foot and bike into the neighborhood, I knew all of the roads and trails pretty well.   I figured this would help me out with my route choices. 

It was another absolutely gorgeous weekend in Yorkshire, sunny, calm, and not too cold.  (Two in a row, I know that's almost unheard of!?!)  It was really muddy from all the recent rains, though, so I rapidly got my feet wet and my bike muddy and stayed that way for the rest of the 4 hour score course.   There are plenty of hills leading out of the river vally, and the course designers put controls on what seemed like all of them!  I was able to plan a route that seemed like it would avoid at least a few, plus get some high value controls on the edges of the map.  (Plus I was able to avoid a really nasty muddy trail near my house). 

Time got away from me at the end, and I was a few minutes late into the finish, but I had a really good day out.  Guess local knowledge really does help, as I ended up first lady overall, and 13th out of 85 participants. 

Results are HERE

Rab Mountain Marathon, 6-7 Oct 2012

Sarah and I are back together again for the 2012 Rab Mountain Marathon.  After all, we did win the Elite class last year (although we actually aren't that fast).  Not that we were gunning for it again...our summer activities had been pretty energetic and we had agreed that walking might be a more fun way to see the area.  However, we had still entered the "Elite" class, only because the extra hour each day of competition meant that we had less time to be cold in camp.  (Rab, if you are reading this, please rename the Elite category as Long, instead.  After all, it's just the same course over 13 hours instead of 11 over the two days).  Perhaps then more people would enter this category and we would have some, errr...competition.  Yup... newsflash... we won our class again this year, but this time because we were the only entries.  Bummer.

Anyway, this year's Rab MM was up in the Cheviots, near the border of Scotland.   This would be a first visit to the area for me, and I was prepped for it by friends with horror stories of the bogs, which must be running full given the large amounts of rain falling this year!   But the weather forecast was good, actually great...my fingers were crossed the whole week that the sunshine would actually stick around.  The stars were out for the drive up, which went fast as Sarah, Tony and Paul kept me awake and entertained. 

The Rab is a score event, meaning that each control is assigned a point value, and the more controls you can reach in the time limit, the more points you finish with.  The challenge is to choose a route which nets lots of high value controls while still reaching the finish within the time limit.   Unfortunately the highest value controls are also some of the hardest to reach, for example a hilltop, a boggy valley, a steep climb, or just tough, nasty tussocky ground. 

We managed to get lost trying to find our first checkpoint.  Yep the very first one.  I guess we weren't mentally switched on to our navigation yet.  In any case it took the first hour to get to any points to our name, which was quite pathetic.  We picked it up a little after that, making good progress towards the highest point in the area, known as The Cheviot.   Very original.   However, our progress bogged down (literally), when we hit the steep climb to Hedgehope Hill, and then the peat hags that followed after.  It was several hours of slogging through terrain that was sometimes boggy, often very bumpy, and covered with heather or dead ferns.  Tough going.   Hours of tough going.  I managed to faceplant myself at least 3 times, luckily always when I was carrying the camera so Sarah couldn't record my indignities.  She did laugh...and then always gave me a hand back up!

Finally we reached the Pennine Way on top of the Cheviot at about 800 meters.  We felt rediculously speedy running on the sections of large paving stones, which somehow hadn't sunk into the bogs below them (yet).   The control with the highest value of the day would have required us to leave the nice stones and take off back into the bogs.  Luckily for our feet, we were running out of time and couldn't get to it.  Instead we picked up a couple of easier points, and made it into midcamp with just 3 minutes to spare.






It was a nice evening in camp, with my tiny alcohol stove cooking away (it really isn't meant to cook meals for 2 hungry people, as it took about an hour of constantly cooking water to get us both warm and fed.)  Well, fed anyway.  By the time the sun went away, we were wearing all of our clothing and starting to get chilled despite the hot chocolate. Paul was especially cold as he had forgetten any spare socks!  We were happy to climb into our tents for the night at the late old time of 6 pm.  Yes, we went to bed at 6 pm...and happy to be there.   We hadn't gotten much sleep the night before so being horizontal felt great.   Although my Klymit sleeping mat had developed a slow leak, so I slept basically on the grass with no padding...that wasn't so nice. 
 

Last year's prize kept us warm overnight!

12 hours later, we forced ourselves to crawl out of the warm (but wet) tent and start packing up.  It was still dark, as the later date this year for the Rab meant that we had a full HOUR more of darkness than last year.  Yup, we are losing 4 Minutes of daylight every day in October here.  The tent, soaked from dew and our own breathing, had made our sleeping bags damp as well.  It's hard to stay away from the fabric walls with two people inside a tent really sized for one.  As soon as we were out of the tent, the wetness cooled quickly, and as I was taking it down, it all suddenly flashed into ice.  It was cold.  The grass was frosty and my fingers were freezing.  Good motivation to get going and warm up out on the course. 

Despite the cold, we knew it was going to be another beautiful day of sunshine.  As we ran, the layers started coming off one by one until we were down to just a shirt and tights.  A few more degrees and we would have been wishing for shorts, with no wind and the sun actually adding warmth to the day.  We had learned a little from our route on Day 1, and chose controls on Day 2 which would keep us to known tracks and roads as much as possible.  As we went back east to the finish, the lumps and bumps (translation: hills and peat hags) got smaller and smaller.  Our traveling speed actually got faster on the level terrain, despite the tiredness in our legs, and we picked up more points on the second day than on the first.  With an hour less of racing.  Yay.  It was nice to finish but I could have stayed out in the sunshine a lot longer, given that we don't actually see that much of it here. 

Rab put on a great race as usual.  I'm sure they order up good weather months in advance for this!

Results are HERE

(Several photos courtesy of Dark & White) 

At the finish

Paul, Tony and I relaxing in camp



4 Border Collies waiting patiently for their farmer!

Fastpacking: The Nidderdale Way

Alternatively Titled: The Misadventures of my First Solo Backpacking Attempt! 

For many months I have wanted to get out by myself.  Love it, hate it, don't know until I try it.  The 53-mile Nidderdale Way was an obvious choice for a short weekend round.   The best part?  I could walk out my front door and be down at the trail in minutes.   Oddly enough I hadn't been on any of the trail yet, aside from a few short miles.

Friday afternoon saw me walking down the sidewalk and waving goodbye to Rob.  It was mild, I was in no hurry (yet) and with a small tree-identification book in hand, I was feeling up leaves as I ambled down the trail.  Ripley Castle came and went, along with a lot of unremarkable scenery, remarkable in that it was all rather pleasant, even in a quick rainshower. 

Almost October and the days are short, the coming darkness saw me peering desperately for a spot to hide out for the night, just short of Brimham Rocks and the boggy moors that surround them.  Many likely-looking sleep spots were filled with cows, sheep, in sight of houses, or just plain soaking wet.   Finally, a good spot, hop a fence and set up my bivy bag.  The wind died, the (almost) full moon rose, and I had a wonderful evening cooking over my stove and laying down watching the stars. 

Just short of sleep and short of midnight, I hear a motor (strange for my location), and peek out of my bag to see a 4-wheeler driving slowly around the field with a flashlight waving around.   I hunkered down in my +  bivy bag, which luckily is the color of grass, and realize they were in the field next to mine.  No consolation if they see me, though...the first rule of wild camping:  tell no one where you are.   The lights disappear, only to turn around and come slowly back.  Eek!  The motor exits the field without discovering me, and I am left in peace for the night.  It's warm enough I brave the possible slugs and leave the top open on the bivy. 

I packed up quickly in the morning and around the bend found a concrete pad, which I shared with some mud and random animal bones for a sheltered cooking spot.  Breakfast was an epic fail.  My alcohol fuel was too cold to light, I guess, requiring that I swap to my good fuel.  Trying to pour it back into the bottle (from a holey cat food can stove) was almost pointless.  Once I had a good boil, I failed to stir up my rice (boil in a bag) pudding at all early enough, leaving crunchy bits of rice in the bottom and rendering it inedible.  Uh-oh, my food ration suddenly seemed a little short.  The bag of now-congealing rice pudding went back in the pack as dead weight.

Saturday was sunny, if quite windy, and never quite warm enough.  I stayed on the move, surprising at least 1000 pheasants from the path.  No, I'm not exaggerating, I think there were a few pheasant "farms" near the trail to help out with the population.  Mid day found me still battling a headwind and skirting the edge of Masham Moor, heading for the most northwest point over Scar House Reservoir Dam.  Along the way I crossed a completely dry creekbed, remarkable after the monsoonal rains we had earlier in the week.  I speculated that the water must have diverted into one of the many potholes (caves) in the area.  This would not be a good week to go spelunking. 

The dam overflow at Scar House was really kicking up, putting on quite a show for visitors.  It must have been really crazy a few days earlier.  I was mostly grateful I would now be walking with my back to the wind, over the moor and back down to How Stean Gorge.   It was near there that I accidentally forgot to shut off my GoPro camera after taking a photo...after snapping 1,847 worthless photos at 2-second intervals, it finally beeped to complain that the memory card was full.  Given the limited field options of the GoPro, and no spare chip, there were no more photos to be taken.  Into the pack it went.

After 11 hours of walking for the day, I hopped another fence on top of a likely deserted hill, and found a lush pasture just past a "private road" sign, with no hint of animals, poop, soggy ground, people or unwanted 4-wheelers.  Aren't I particular. I had just dumped my gear all over the grass when I heard a woman walking by yelling at her dog.  Luckily she was so busy watching the dog (who probably knew I was frozen behind the rock wall), that she didn't notice me then, or again when she walked back a few minutes later.  It was windy in my little rock corner, the moon was soon obscured by clouds, and my stove fuel (warmed by a few minutes in my armpit) still went out at least 7 times.   I managed to eat and then burrowed inside the bivy, which kept me surprisingly warm even if the wind was whacking the cloth into my head. 

I woke to a light rain in the morning, and wondered what to do about it.  With no small amount of contorting, I was able to stuff my sleeping bag away and slip into full rain gear before I opened the door to the bivy.  The sad news was that I didn't feel like fighting with my stove for a hot breakfast.  Sadder still was the contents of my food bag.  Congealed rice pudding, uncooked couscous, and a few gels.  They would have to last me the last 15 miles to get home, which was looking like a long, soggy way.  Raiding all the pockets of my pack only turned out a few squares of leftoever chocolate.  I guess 6000 calories (minus rice pudding and couscous) wasn't enough for a 45-hour tromp through 50 miles of valley trails.    (Yes, I could have stopped in one of the many villages I passed through for additional supplies, but I wanted to be self-sufficient.)  No, gels don't even taste good when you're hungry...why did I even pack them?  This wasn't a race. 

I had managed to keep my feet mostly dry for a day and a half, no mean feat in a country where I usually measure my first soaking in minutes, not miles.  Not today.  The grass was already wet, and this section of the trail relied heavily on cow pastures.   At some point, once water has soaked into every crevice in my shoes, I stop caring where I step.  I think this helps me go faster, but at times when I hear that sucking sound, I wonder which will win out for control of my shoe...my feet or the mud trying to suck it off.   And then I wonder why I didn't tie my shoelaces tighter BEFORE the diluted cow poop got smeared all over them?!?

Let me just say that a little rain is no fun.  A lot of rain ruins even the strongest wish to stay outside.  Yet driving rain or not, the high moor trail south of Pateley Bridge was beautiful.  In the fog, the deep crevices in the cliffs held green ferns, and the damp atmosphere transported me straight to the rainforest in New Zealand.

The last few miles of trail were along the River Nidd.  A few days before, it had been raging at the highest flood levels in recorded history, due to heavy rains over just a day and a half.  Sure, that only resulted in a couple inches total of rain, but around here in the UK that's a month's worth, and enough to send everyone rushing for needed sandbags.  The river was trickling along nicely enough now, 15 feet below me, but there was clear evidence that most of the trail had been underwater in the flood, with some of the path rather washed out. 

I arrived home close to noon on Sunday, soaked to the skin, looking like a drowned kitten and ready to raid the kitchen.   In short order I was washed, dried, fed, and watching football on the couch.   Amazing things, houses.  I really like mine sometimes.

So did I enjoy going out solo?  Well, yes.  Well, no.   I would have prefered it to be warmer, and sunnier.  Then I would have packed more food, and walked slower, and nosed into my book for a few more tree discoveries.   Then again, I always say I want to slow down...perhaps in a warmer climate I even would.   It is nice to have friends on the trail, too...I don't think I'll audition for a hermit anytime soon!

Near Ripley Castle

Moon Rise

Home for the night

A sunrise (failed) breakfast spot

Brimham Rocks



Scar House Reservoir

Book Review: Your Brain On Nature

Ever wonder why you suddenly feel happier when you stand next to a waterfall, walk through a forest, or see ocean waves crashing onto the beach?  Well, that goofy grin on your face is no accident, our brains are hardwired to admire nature, and we get physical and mental benefits from it that go far beyond the time we are spend outdoors.  There is fascinating research to prove this, all laid out for easy reading in: Your Brain On Nature: The Science of Nature's Influence on Your Health, Happiness and Vitality by Eva M. Selhub, MD, and Alan C. Logan, ND.

Studies now conclusively prove that just being able to see green trees through a window (vs. a view of other buildings) helps make:
Students retain more knowledge;
Hospital patients recover quicker (and use less pain medication);
Jail inmates get in less fights;
and Office workers more productive.               

Just a view of nature can do this!

So while seeing trees from inside a building is a good start, even better would be to get out into the wilderness more often.  But even for urbanites there are small ways to do this, which include; adding plants to the office or home, getting a pet, gardening, escaping to a park for lunchtime walks, eating healthy fresh foods, minimizing screen time (TV, video games and computers), and/or using aromatherapy.  Something is definitely better than nothing in this case! 

Intensive use of nature for people with health issues has also proven to be more beneficial than prescription drugs.  In fact, nature has proven to be such a health benefit that some doctors are now writing prescriptions for Vitamin G(green). In other words, a prescription to go for walks out in in the woods!   This remedy has been positively used for people with all sorts of health problems, including stress, depression, and anger issues.

I highly recommend this fascinating book.  It is easy to read, easy to understand, yet speaks strongly to anyone who finds themselves relying more and more on technology, but less and less content with the results.  The book presents facts about our growing reliance on technology as a troubling issue, yet lays out options to combat our changing world in a way that is hopeful, rather than negative.

So go ahead, push back from whatever screen you are reading this on, and head outside for a walk in the woods.  It will do your brain good. 

I'll see you out there.

Adventure Racing Poem

...and now for something a little silly

Adidas TERREX Sting In Stirling AR 2012

Bang! Goes the gun, and we’re off like a shot,

Oops, running too fast, better that we’d not!

A long race awaits, a true test of skill,

Reaching the finish, is a force of will.

Racers spread out over hill, fell, and dale,

Near the beginning we all feel quite hale.

As days pass unending, pace starts to slow,

Without any rest, how far can we go?

Food is our fuel, so we constantly eat,

Gummies and shot bloks, are all so sweet.

Hand me some chocolate, to melt on my lips

I’m craving the sight of some fish and chips.

Time on the water can be a nice change,

We paddle in pairs and rest tired legs.

But rivers throw rapids around each bend,

This race is continuing without any end!

Help! We’ve tipped over, what’s to do now?

The bailer, I’ve lost it!  Pick up the bow.

Dump out the water, hope our bags are sealed,

Where’s the next rapid, keep your eyes peeled!

Our moods come and go, about like the sun.

With warmth on our face, then wow this is fun!

More likely, though, is a faceful of rain,

Soaking wet clothes are a consummate pain.

When darkness falls, we continue along,

The world is sleeping, this just seems so wrong.

A beam breaks the darkness, to show the way,

Some trails stay hidden, and we go astray.

It’s 2 am, can’t we stop for some sleep? 

My eyes are half-closed, I try not to weep.

Not on your life, we’ve got deadlines to beat,

I slump, uncaring, against my bike seat.

At last, a transition, a really nice sight,

With shelter and food, and welcoming light.

Spare bags give us shoes, dry clothes and some socks,

A place to sit down, and dump out the rocks.

Now for a wetsuit, a harness and lid,

Jump in the waterfall, act like a kid.

Canyoning cools down our muscles just right,

The largest leap, is an adrenaline spike!

Back on the bikes for the longest bit yet,

Puddles soon show us we’re gonna get wet.

Glen Tilt pulls us up the smooth valley trail,

Oh, more hike-a-bike, I let out a wail!

The orienteering is optional, right?

Instead we’ll just sit with antlers in sight!

Food from Clive Ramsey’s, some pasta and veg,

Warmth keeps us from tilting right over the edge.

We’ve chosen the long route, our bums rebel,

We’re biking a Munro, that’s something to tell!

O-k, we’re hike-a-biking a Munro?

Bums get a break, but progress is so slow.

Time to box up bikes, get them out of sight,

Let’s get up on the hills while there’s still light.

The long trek before us, how far can we go?

I don’t know, but we’re traveling so slow!

Teams travel in packs, just the four of us,

Alone on the horizon, from dawn ‘til dusk.

My feet are so wet, it’s boggy out there,

Where’s my dry socks? Our toes deserve some care!

Can’t go on forever, asleep on our feet,

We break out the tent, when we’re really beat.

Where to erect it, I see rocks and slopes?

Wind tries to steal it, we crawl in and hope...

For moments of stillness, a second of sleep,

A chance to lay flat, dry our feet and eat.

All too soon chimes my watch, beep-beeps your watch,

Get up, tired bones, we’ve controls to catch!

Rock scrambles loom above, so dark in the night,

We’re tired and cold, we wait for first light.

Volunteers in blue jackets point the way,

Thanks for enduring such winds without pay!

Transitions again, again, and some more,

More biking, more paddling, what’s in store?

Packs crammed with gear, may explode in a pile,

That wet shirt stuffed inside, smells terribly vile.

Hold on, I’m thirsty, my bottle is dry!

“A stream up ahead”, soon comes the glad cry.

Maps fly all over, where’s the one I need?

To tell us the turns, the hills we should heed.

Late in the race, our muscles are so sore,

Sleepmonsters beckon, with visions galore.

In stillness the midges come at us again,

Speed through transition, only way to win!

Teammates tell jokes, lend a hand, or a drink,

There when needed, to save us from the brink.

Carry our packs, and pull us up the hills,

Push bikes unceasing, pick us up from spills.

Now drop the bikes, to the finish line run,

Hand-in-hand, we will cross the line as one.

Medals and cameras stuffed in our face,

Only one thought, that we’ve finished the race!