A 24 hour is a big undertaking - finding a crew at late notice is difficult. So, race day brings a whole new dawn of teammates. This totally awesome group of women, have signed up to be the only women's team in a tough 24 hour event, and they are pretty much novices to AR. Lauren has done ONE 12 hour event. Lyndy and Tracey have done a handful of 6 hours. That said, I've done my research, these ladies have a pedigree of long distance events, in triathlon and running; and word on the street is that they have the most important X factor. Attitude. I've basically convinced them, assured them, sales pitched them to get them to agree to do this. As a result, I'm taking the start line feeling very nervous and very responsible. Responsible for their enjoyment. Responsible for their safety. Responsible for the navigation. Whew!!
Anyway - we look good!
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| Lyndy proving very capable helping with the route planning |
The race starts with a bang and a fast foot race through the (3) streets of Marokopa to the beach. In true form to being the only women's team, I run all of 300 metres and am rapt to be able to stop at the public toilets. As a result we are back packers when we hit the thigh deep river crossing which is WAY deeper than our thighs. Also, my sealy bags of snacks aren't sealed properly so I now have manky salty frooze balls and scroggin. Blearrchh!
Mystery Activity - Shooting. Nailed it. One of the best scores. Woop woop.
As we run down the road we contemplate that we've been racing for 5 hours, and we are now comfortable enough to squat in a little row and wee right beside each other. No point delaying the inevitable, there is going to be no room for any preciousness.
The remainder of the trek is on farmland. Bloody hard to navigate on farmland, the only handrail features are fences, half of them are wrong and they other half aren't on the map. Lyndy is obsessed with bees and wants to go past all of the hives, and trying to constantly go around all the fields of dangerous looking Bulls is trying my patience and nav skills. After skirting 3-4 paddocks, we come to a gate with a big looking bull within 20 m of the gate, glaring at us. The ladies say no, and I'm ashamed to say that I just opened the gate for them and made them walk through the paddock with the bull. After reassuring them the night before, that they could tell me any time they felt unsafe, I basically herded them into the paddock, no doubt with a grouchy look on my face. I did walk closest to the bull on my left, while they all scurried through on my right. This is probably the worst captaincy I've ever shown, sorry ladies!
We move solidly through the rest of the trek, and our nav keeps us up with a couple of other teams who are moving faster, but sometimes in the wrong direction. It's always a good feeling! We have a hairy river crossing which we underestimated slightly, and are pleased to be hopping on to our mountain bikes while the kayakers will paddle the same route in the river which the road is following.
Totally gutted to get to the next CP, clearly marked on a bridge, to find that the bridge is broken and the CP is on the far side. Obviously no problem for the kayakers, but nearly a 10km round trip for the MTBers to go back for it. I'm totally not biking back! No way! I'll swim. And then Lauren, who is a competitive surf life saver feels obliged to offer to swim as obviously the strongest swimmer amongst us. I really wasn't hinting Lauren, but gosh you swim well!
We hit the transition after the long trek and short MTB, right on dark. That's a long day so far and a lot still to be done. Back on the bikes and there is a clear route choice to head around the beach and cut off a BIG, LONG UPHILL bike ride to Kiritehere Beach. We decide to give it a punt. I can confirm there is nothing quite as scary as trying to walk through thigh deep water, on a rocky reef, carrying a bike, while wearing bike shoes, IN THE DARK. We made it around the first point and chose to skirt up through the farm for the next. Overall, we caught up with other teams so it was a good option, but it felt pretty dodgy.
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| A shot of the reefs we were trying to walk over in the dark at nearly high tide - with bikes! |
The big boring bike ride up kilometres of gravel road took a big toll out of us. Tracey had been fighting a bad virus all week, and was really digging deep here. I was working hard to stay close on the map and rapt to be hitting all the CPs spot on, even when other teams were riding back down the hill looking for those they had missed.
3am. I'm tired and cold. It's drizzling, hails on us for a while, and I realise that I'm paying for my lightweight gear choices. I don't want to stop and have to strip and stand in the cold to add extra layers, so I push on but I'm starting to get a bit incoherent. Tracey, bless her, is feeling so unwell, when I stop to navigate she just sinks into a weary crouch and stays there motionless until we start moving again. However, in her own pain she is still able to recognise mine and eventually makes us stop and while I strip and wait, they each hold a layer ready for me to get back into as quickly as possible. Nothing like having your newbie team take care of you to humble you back into a good place!
We've kept up with a few teams here, and for a while all of us are milling around and going back and forward unsure of the next step. It's late, dark, wet again, we're cold, and I contemplate pitching the tent and waiting for dawn. Is that what the team needs now? Morale is pretty low. Lyndy is still thinking clearly and suggests we walk up the hill again to look for the airstrip as an attack feature, she sells the idea in that walking up the hill at least we will stay warm! She's totally right, and once we get there, it quickly falls into place and we head off quickly in the right direction.
8am Sunday morning, we wander into transition to be met with hot pies and milos. Mate, we could have kissed that bloke who kept the food hot for us even after allotted time. Best food I've ever eaten, and a good representation of the hospitality of the event, where even the prizegiving came with a delicious meal just right for sensitive stomachs after 24 hours of abuse. We get a truck drive home, out of time to do the bike ride to transition or final rogaine. Technically this is a DNF, but it really doesn't feel like a failure.
This crew. Wow. Ladies, that was tough. Really tough. So tough, there were long periods where I really wasn't enjoying it. But you had awesome attitudes, dug deep, and I'm super proud that we were brave enough to put ourselves out there. Thanks so much for answering my calls!
It's hard to sum up a race in a ten minute read. 24 hours of sometimes repetitive nastiness. Sometimes boring, sometimes scary. Sometimes exhilarating, sometimes hilarious. I'm not sure I can express how our bodies were feeling, or how taxing it was trying to positively lead when I felt so responsible. This was not fun. Mostly. But we managed to have some really fun times, and some awesome adventure. Those are the bits I'll remember.
Learning:
Appreciate the bravery of people prepared to take on a 24 hour race.
Back myself navigationally - take the shorter option, just take it carefully.
More straight line deep bush compass work required - still not sure how I got the night bush bash wrong, still relieved it turned out ok!
Captaincy - this was probably both my best and worst race. I'm not sure now what I'd do in hindsight about the bull. Did I need to explain better how hard it was for me to continually navigate around them? Follow through on my word that I wouldn't let anyone feel unsafe. Reassure them? Dunno. I'll keep thinking on this.
River crossings - always link up, even if it looks easy.
