Are You Ready For An Adventure?
Apr 10th, 2004 by Brian
Josh’s Diet 2004: Team A List
Somewhere south of Charlottesville, VA
RACERS WANTED
for hazardous journey.
No fees and no wages.
No race director.
No manned CPs.
Bitter cold and blazing hot.
Potential long periods of
complete darkness.
Safe return possible.
Honor and recognition in case of success.
JOSH’S DIET 2004
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hat did you do this weekend? A fairly standard question. But how do you explain a weekend spent racing through the woods for 12 hours straight?
This past Saturday I joined Jon, Chris, and Lorie, and competed in Josh’s Diet, my first adventure race.
Some background information. Josh is the younger brother of Jamie. Jamie is an ultra competitive man who enjoys races of all sorts. If he can’t find an organized race he’ll put one on himself. The story goes that four years back Josh was looking to get into better shape. Jamie, being the ever helpful big brother, decided that training for and participating in a practice adventure race would make a terrific exercise program. Josh’s Diet was born.
The first year seven people raced. The next year more gave it a try. Year Three saw teams racing up and down the mountains through various levels of snow so deep it made walking difficult and bike riding near impossible. In 2004, around 30 people started the race. Josh, to date, has never even made it to the starting line.
Josh’s Diet is not an adventure race. An adventure race has a race director, entrance fees, permits, insurance, volunteers, manned and unmanned check points, t-shirts, swag, awards, fame and fortune. “Diet” has become the ubiquitous word used to denote an adventure race simulation that contains none of the logistical headaches mentioned above. Josh’s Diet was just a group of people who happened to show up at the same place, started running at the same time, and for some reason, all headed in the same direction. Oh, and some hoped to complete the running and biking and “cross the finish line” before others.
Pre-race.
I do not quite have the hang of training yet. There is a concept called tapering where a racer will exercise less and less before a big race in order to keep their body healthy. No need to burn yourself out. This concept I have mastered.
Another important pre-race skill is having the right gear. I efficiently spent my tapering time shopping for those last minute AR necessities. Light weight pack, energy bars, water bladders, new compass, bins to store gear, new front wheel to replace the recently tacoed and now old front wheel, bright lights for the bike.
I told the race director that I was going to race but other than that I had no clue what was going to happen. Would I race solo? Finding a team with the same goals is one of the most difficult aspects of adventure racing. Interpersonal dynamics play such a crucial role in the success of teams. For me my goals were pretty simple… 1. Show up. 2. Start the race. 3. Don’t die.
Out of the blue Chris asked if she could be on my team. Chris? Chris who has participated in well over 100 races? To my 4 races? Um, yeah. She could join my team. No problem.
Chris brought on Jon, another experienced racer and then our friend Lorie, another newbie like me only with actual cardio conditioning, joined too. All of a sudden I was on a team of four. Things were looking good. Then somehow I became navigator.
I actually love looking at maps. And I have this fun mapping software on my computer. When the course was announced I entered the coordinates, plotted the checkpoints and began to figure out routes. I’ve learned that another important pre-race activity is to ask the race director as many questions as possible. One night I went over and received a great tutorial on how to plot UTMs manually by Mr. Webster himself!
The whole course came out to around 63 miles in length with over 8000 feet of elevation gain. We would have about 12 miles of trekking and 51 miles on the bike. My team figured it would probably take us 15 hours to complete the course. With a race start of 9am that would put us across the finish line around midnight. A long day for sure.
Using my trusty mapping software I geeked out and printed off a map and elevation profile for each segment of the race. Then I put all of the pages into plastic sheet protectors and then into a three ring binder. This I brought with me wherever I went. My new safety blanket.
Race Day.
They say that a good night’s sleep is important before you race. But this did not happen. Thanks to Jon and Caroline we had all of the creature comforts of home but I still had the pre-race jitters. And I did not sleep well.
Morning came and alarm clocks shook me from my light sleep. Not a morning person I ambled downstairs, had a glass of orange juice, a pop-tart, and packed my bag. Then I headed back up stairs for a shower in hopes it would revive me. And it did, sort of.
We went through our gear and figured out what we needed to start the race with and what we could pick up later at the bike transition. Chris introduced Lorie and me to a product called Hydropel, a sports ointment that prevents blisters. You apply it liberally to your feet and then pull on socks and shoes. Then spend five minutes trying to wash the stuff off your hands. This is not an easy task. As the name implies, Hydropel repels water.
It took longer to drive over the mountains and find the bike drop than we had planned. Along the way we listened to Lorie’s great AR mix CD until the road became too bumpy. For the bike drop off we were to look for a white gate. Two cars with five racers drove up and down dirt roads searching for the great white gate. It was not to be found, there was no white gate. There was however a yellow gate. And after a while we figured it out… Someone painted the gate.
Taking so long to find the bike transition was not helping boost any sort of navigational confidence I might have once held. That it made us late for the announced race start time was also not a good thing. Luckily for us the race director wanted to see everyone start at the same time. He patiently waited for us to arrive before beginning his race brief.
Since this was not a real race, but rather a gathering of like-minded individuals set on enjoying a fun day in the woods of trekking and biking there was not much for the race director to say. Or maybe there was, but I really wasn’t paying attention. Race directors always say the same thing and it always comes out sounding like an adult in a Peanuts cartoon.
Then, just before 9:30, it started.
The racers were off and my team was a little slow out of the gate. To be fair Jon was ready and raring to go, but I had to put away my camera and we had to do something with Lorie’s video camera and then I had to lock the car without leaving keys inside. So many last minute things, but then we too were off and running. Er, walking fast.
The first bit of trekking involved a stream crossing followed by bushwhacking. Jon led the way and set a brisk pace. Not ten minutes into the race someone approached us heading in the opposite direction. It seemed that they’d left their map back at the start. This put them at a slight tactical disadvantage. My team had an extra map and after a little coaxing our friend took it and ran back ahead to catch up with his teammate.
Check Point 1 (CP1) was the Priest Summit. It was only 4.91 miles and 2582 feet of positive elevation gain away. A long haul. The hike began at the base of
It may have been pretty, but it was a chore to climb. The trek involved lots and lots of steep stairs and switchbacks. There was little time to take in the view. We had mountains to climb! At the summit you could look out across the valley and take in much of the racecourse. Especially prominent was the infamous Dog Hill. But that was not to come for quite a while and it was better to keep thinking of only the next segment ahead. It is so much easier to psych out the mind by telling yourself you only have 4 miles more.
During the trekking phase of the race I discovered something that would hold true all day long. I was so much better at going downhill than up. At times while going downhill we affected a sort of running shuffle that was actually sort of fun. I just let gravity work for me and made sure my legs kept up.
Uphill was a different story. You could say that I am cardio-challenged. I never did wear a monitor to check my pulse, but I am quite certain my heart rate was peaking somewhere around 200 beats per minute. Moving uphill you could find me towards the back, always within eyesight of my team, but taking my time just the same. The good news is that I seemed to have a decent enough recovery time and after a short stop could keep going again.
Chris was very good at calling out when it was time to drink and time to eat. For me drinking was not a problem, though I ended up a little dehydrated just the same after the second checkpoint. Eating was more difficult. I just wasn’t hungry. And so I forced my self to eat parts of an energy bar or some of the salty blue potato chips Chris carried. Somewhere between the second and third CP we all ran out of water. But luckily we were not too far from the bike transition where we had plenty of extra h2o stashed.
We were at bike transition for ten or fifteen minutes. We all filled up on water, ate some food, and got ready for biking. The next check point was about three and a half miles away. We’d be riding on a narrow, two-lane country black top, uphill almost the entire way.
What is slower than slow? I was slow during the uphill trekking portions, but I was even slower for the uphill biking. Starting the climbs I would quickly shift into easier and easier gears until there was nothing left to click. Then it was just a matter of keeping enough momentum so the bike wouldn’t swerve like a drunken sailor. Still, I had to stop frequently and let my heart rate slow down. This stop and go presented another challenge. Some of the hills were so steep that getting back up on the bike and moving forward again without popping a wheelie was a real challenge.
Throughout my uphill ordeals I never let myself become discouraged. For one thing there were three other people to help me out and who were somewhat dependent on my knowledge of the course. I’d committed to this race and I was going to push on as far as I could go. At this point, on our way to CP4, there was no way I was going to quit. It wasn’t an option. I just had to suck it up and keep going.
What goes up must come down and eventually we were cruising fast as gravity began to work in our favor. It actually became a little chilly. As we blew under the
Stopped on the side of the road, looking at our maps, a guy pulled up in a truck and offered assistance. Did we need directions? Sure, why not. So we started asking him questions like, “Is this Tye River Gap?” and “Do you know where 685 is?” These seemed fair questions but he didn’t know the answer to any of them. It quickly became apparent that we actually knew the area better than he and so we thanked him and watched as he drove off, probably a little confused about his encounter with the spandexed and helmeted foursome.
Riding to the next two check points would take us downhill for nearly 10 miles so we switched clothing and added layers. This section was my most favorite of the entire day. We spun down gravel roads as fast as possible and slowed down only when wind driven tears made seeing the next twist or turn impossible.
During this downhill section I sort of overcompensated for my previous slowness. Several times I found myself way out ahead of my teammates and had to stop to let them catch up. This wasn’t the best practise on my part, as I should have stayed within eyesight of everyone as often as possible. I waited at key turns and tried to eat more of my
After one such break our team started back up the road in the direction I had pointed out. We went maybe 100 feet before I realized the problem. We were going uphill again! And that wasn’t right. A quick consultation of the map showed to proper route and soon we were once more heading downhill.
Riding down the road, again leading the way, I heard a sharp noise and saw a rapidly moving blur out of the corner of my eye. A good-sized dog, breed unknown, was giving chase. Adrenaline pumped, my heart pulsed and my legs peddled as hard and fast as possible. Turning my head I watched the dog drop back, but I kept peddling. Feeling safe again I let my team catch up, made sure they too were ok, and then decided that maybe I should stick around. Or maybe Jon suggested that I stick closer. In any case, from then on I stayed nearby and enjoyed the camaraderie of riding along side and talking with everyone.
Team A List reached the White Rock checkpoint without even realizing it and headed on down to the thriving metropolis that is Nash. And by thriving metropolis I mean a single house at a road junction. And I’m not even sure that lonely house was even occupied.
Nash was the last of the downhill checkpoints and we reached it around 7pm. At this point we’d been going for about eight and a half hours. Next up was Dog Hill.
Dog Hill. Infamous Dog Hill. It’s an appropriate nickname. Houses line the country road for a couple of miles on each side. And each house it seems is either a kennel or sled dog training camp. Without too much exaggeration anywhere between 2 to 10 dogs gathered in the yard of each house.
The locals in these parts seem to subscribe to the old classic Roy Roger’s tune “Don’t Fence Me In” because their dogs are free to roam as they please. Leash law? They don’t need no stinkin’ leash law! How surprised would you be to learn that these dogs, like the one encountered earlier, don’t take too kindly to folks on bicycles?
I’d heard so much about this stupid stretch of the race that I was much more worried about the dogs than the 10 miles or so of uphill peddling that stood in the way between us and the next CP. As it turned out I should have been more worried about the hill because that’s what kicked my butt. Yes, many dogs barked, and a few thought about some close up investigating, but no one on my team got to have a close encounter of the dog kind. Maybe that’s a benefit of “running sweep” (as we liked to joke about our dead last position in the race). By the time you get to Dog Hill all the dogs are just too tired to care.
Dog Hill. Man is that a tough climb. It got to the point where I could walk nearly as fast as I could ride. And somehow walking seemed easier. At least then I had something to hold onto and keep myself from falling down.
Chris and Lorie continued on until they were out of my sight. Jon hung back and made sure I was doing ok. I alternated my activities… walking, resting, riding, resting, walking, walking, walking. Ever upward. My goal became making it to the top.
The sun was well set and it was just about pitch black dark when I finally made the summit. I could not have imagined a more welcome sight than finding Chris and Lorie waiting there on the side of the road. I was so spent I just sat down on the ground, dug into my pack and ate the first thing I reached… a pop tart. It was delicious! The next CP was still about four miles away. After that we’d face some pretty technical single track. If we pressed on we’d have to race another five hours or more.
My team was awesome and we all agreed to head back to the finish line. It meant riding back down Dog Hill and then another four miles uphill on the main road. By the time I reached the finish I was overheating in my Gore-Tex and just plain whipped. The first thing I did was drop my bike, pack, helmet, and ditched two layers. Then I drank most of a Nalgene. I was happy to be finished but could not reflect upon the day very well. I was more fried than I realized.
Post Race.
The drive home was quiet and the hot shower and soft bed were heavenly. Needless to say I slept much better that night.
In the morning I awoke and attempted walking downstairs only to find my knees not properly working. No other part of my body was very sore, but my knees were killing me! Advil helped. So did another shower. Jon and Caroline made a wonderful breakfast of eggs and bacon and toast and potatoes. And then it was time to head back to
Once home I unloaded my car and went straight to sleep. I slept like the dead for nearly five hours and then woke up with an amazing hunger. At Safeway I bought food for dinner and more Advil for the knees. In line I went to swipe my discount card but found it missing. So I tried to enter my phone number, but I could not remember it. Finally it came to me, but the machine would not accept it. Frustrated, I swiped my ATM card and went to enter my PIN number. Nothing happened. The PIN number was gone and no amount of recall could bring it back. I paid cash.
I had expected to be sore for a few days after the race but was very surprised at the mental fatigue that followed as well. Eventually I did remember my ATM number. And my knees stopped hurting by Tuesday.
Before Saturday my race experience consisted of the 2003 Wednesday At Wakefield mountain bike series (three races in July) and a cross-country ski race this past January. I had not participated in a competitive sport since losing interest in soccer back in the second grade (too much running).
Now that I have drunk the AR Kool-Aid I wonder where this is headed?
The Team
Chris • Jon • Lorie • Brian
The Race
Trekking: 12.19 Miles
Biking: 28.38 Miles
Total: 40.57 Miles
Elevation Gain: +6955
Elevation Loss: -6954
Check Points Reached (Out of 9 Total):
CP1, CP2, CP2, CP4, CP5, CP6, CP7b* (*reached
Hours on Course: ~12
