The anticipation of the
Moab Xstream Adventure Race has been a long time coming with months of training in preparation. My confidence in my training and my projected outcome of my performance in the race greatly differs from the final results. Come take a journey with me on a play-by-play recounting of the race.
I left Idaho Falls Friday, March 26th about 45 minutes behind schedule. According to my GPS I would arrive in Moab, UT at approximately 10:00pm; one-hour after the designated check-in time closed. And just after entering the freeway I realized that I had forgotten a couple of items, but with negative time to spare there was only one way my truck was pointed - South. Not a very good way to start off my weekend adventure. But, thankfully for little traffic on unmonitored back freeways and a V8 engine I was able to make up the time and cruised into Moab at 8:45pm. (Don't ask). Check-in took a mere 3 minutes tops where I received my racing jersey, map, and race booklet. Oh, and I can't forget the complimentary visor as a souvenir for participating in the race.
Before heading to my luxurious Moab weekend accommodations for the pre-night race preparations I made a quick stop to the local (and only) grocery store to pick up forgotten items - sunglasses, Alieve, and a cheapo-camera. I then made my way to my weekend home,
The Lazy Lizard Hostel.
Yes, I did stay in a hostel. Not only was it a very cheap alternative to the high-priced touristy hotels that line main street, but I was able to get my very own room in order to have privacy and security of my belongings instead of sleeping in a common area with several other people. The only concern I had about staying at a hostel was how comfortable the bed(s) would be. It's not 5-star rated (or rated for that matter, so you don't know what to expect). To my surprise the mattress that I slept on was very comfortable! But you must take into consideration that I slept half-awake the first night due to race anxiety and the second night I was dead asleep due to race exhaustion. Judge for yourself.
Once settled in as much as possible into my room I began to make the necessary preparations for the race. Each team or solo participate of the race received a map of the area and given coordinates to plot on the map in order to determine the route of the race. Gratefully drawing on my ANASAZI experience I plotted the check points of the race without a problem, except one. A good friend of mine who participated in the race last year took time to go over his map and experience with me prior to the race in an effort to help me prepare better and reduce my anxiety. He gave me the assurance that the same route had been the same for several years from talking with returned-racers. When plotting the coordinates I was given I realized that they were quite different from his map. This threw me for a whirl because my training had been geared to follow the same order of disciplines as his from last year. I had been focused on this specific order and realizing the route was different the night prior to the race definitely increased my anxiety. All of my notes, planning, mental and physical preparation for what items I would have at each transition and how each transition area would play out crumbled. I had to start over, change the gears, and quickly recreate the race in my mind so I could figure out a new game-plan without losing precious sleep-time.
My thoughts were pretty scrambled and I just ended up throwing all of my race gear into my ActionPacker that would be left at a transition station to sort and figure out in the morning. With sleepy-eyes I slipped into bed just after midnight. I quickly drifted off to sleep with one eye open and perked ears picking up every sound made in those four short hours before my alarm went off. 4am? Isn't that a little extreme? For all of you non-racers out there, I learned in my race nutrition research that the body takes about 4-hours to digest and store the carbohydrates that are needed for extended high-endurance races. It was recommended to eat approximately 1000 calories four-hours prior to the start of the race. So, when my alarmed went off at 4am I got up and had my pre-race meal, which consisted of two 8oz. bottles of Ensure, a large banana, a whole wheat bagel with natural peanut butter spread, and a protein bar. I was also planning on eating a bowl of oatmeal, but after the above listed items of food were consumed I couldn't get anything else down. I was done. I went back to 'sleep' for another hour and a half before my alarm sounded again, but feeling the lack of a full-nights rest I kept pushing snooze until the last possible minute. And it really was the last possible minute.
I threw on my race clothes with an extra layer for warmth and then headed out to make my way to the transition area to drop off my bike and ActionPacker with my gear I would need for the remainder of the race after the first leg was completed. Observing other racers and following their lead I was able to determine what to take and what to leave. Once that transition point was taken care of I was off to the finish line to make the final preparations before beginning the race.
The order of the race went as follows: Kayaking, Biking, Rappelling, Trail-Running, Biking. The route is approximately 50 miles long. To see a map of the route,
click here. The breakdown of the route is approximately as follows: Kayaking - 7 miles, Biking - 20 miles, Rappelling - 300 vertical ft., Trail-Running - 6 miles, and Biking - 20 miles.
I parked at the starting area of the race with 10 minutes to spare. I quickly got my kayak set up near the water's edge, checked in, and then went back to my truck to make last minute preparations before meeting all of the other solo races behind the start line for the horn to blow at 8:15am.
When the horn blew everybody raced down to their kayak to try to be one of the first racers to hit the water and start paddling. With the number of bodies with their kayaks and the limited space to enter the water it got pretty clogged. Watching the racers ahead of me frantically trying to get into their kayaks and ending up getting submerged in the water I decided that I would take my time to enter the river to ensure that I would not get wet or else I would be cold and wet for 7+ miles. Taking the extra time to do so was well worth it for me. I was really surprised at the kindness and helpfulness of the other racers; the racers waiting behind the ones entering the water would give them a push to help them avoid having to get into the river and getting wet making an easy entry into the river. An older gentleman did the same for me; to him I say, 'Thank you!'.
The Colorado River that weaves its way through Colorado and Utah eventually spilling into Lake Powell is a very slow moving river, thus forcing those who ride it without a motorized boat to paddle constantly in order to make it anywhere at a decent rate. It is a very smooth and enjoyable ride which tempts riders to sit back, relax, and enjoy looking up at the big red cliffs that rise high on either side. Although this was a temptation for me I kept my focus on the race, my kayak in a straight ahead course, and a rhythmic paddle stroke. I felt good. I could tell that my training was kicking in and that I was making some headway. I don't know how many female solo racers were behind me, but I passed 4 on the river. My competitive drive was kicking into gear. I reached transition/check point one at 1 hour 20 minutes. A little slower than my training on the row machine at the gym, but comparable since I don't have the option of using leg strength in a kayak as I do on a row machine. Overall the kayak section of the race went close to perfect. Wouldn't change a thing except maybe a more direct path closer to the shore than towards the middle of the river. But as far as I was concerned I was on course for a great finish.
After checking in with the transition staff I switched out of my Chacos and into my race shoes that would serve me for the rest of the race. I threw on my North Face camelback that contained everything I would need and was required to carry for the remainder of the race: water, bike repair tools, first-aid kit, harness w/ caribbeaner and rappel device, energy gels, and a few other miscellaneous items. I jumped on my bike and cruised to the bathroom, which was a much needed stop since I didn't get the chance before the race started. After a quick deposit and a downed energy gu packet I was on my bike retracing three miles of the kayak route on pavement towards the turn off at Long Canyon. I noticed that almost immediately after I began the biking section of the race I was experiencing pain in my lower back for unknown reasons. This pain continued to worsen the longer I was on the bike to the point of being debilitating. It greatly affected my performance on the bike section both ways.
The first mile or so of Long Canyon was a steady climb, but then became a steep climb that continued to get steeper and steeper with each switchback. With my determination and competitive drive in full throttle I hit the steep hills with all I had not allowing myself to stop short of the top of each switchback. Finding strength in my training, working through the pain, and relying on my friend's reflective words that one could make it to the top of Long Canyon without stopping I kept peddling hard and strong. I made it up three steep switchbacks but was forced to stop in order to control and prevent everything in my stomach from spewing out. Putting my head down and providing my body with exceptional amounts of oxygen brought the state of my nausea to a decreased state. While trying to keep myself together a couple of solo female racers passed. I knew each moment I stayed there I was losing ground against my competitors. Still feeling a little nauseous I decided to walk my bike to try to walk-off the nauseous feeling.
I realized the more I walked up Long Canyon the steeper and steeper it became. I rode every section I could and for as long as I could, but there were sections that were nearly impossible to bike up. I felt better when a male competitor who had huge rock solid leg muscles got off his bike to walk. I didn't feel like such a wimp. At sections when it was a struggle to even push my bike up the canyon trail I realized that although my training prepared and helped me a lot, it was not nearly the training I needed to make it up this beast. In the picture above I attempted to capture how steep the trail was, but the grade here is nothing compared to what lied around a switchback or two.
Getting near the top of the canyon felt like it took forever, but it opened up to offer great views of southern Utah's beautiful landscape. This picture captures the trail below that I had long since covered and way off in the distance the Needles area of the Canyonlands with the La Sal mountains as the backdrop. Nature is one of the many great rewards of outdoor adventures. Taking a moment to appreciate the surrounding beauty seems to breath life into the soul giving renewed energy and motivation to continue to give your all.
I think with the relief and happiness that came with getting to the top of that dang canyon gave me a boost of energy, but that was short-lived once I realized what the top of the canyon brought - an open flat plain with bitter cold high mile-an-hour winds. I had taken off my long-sleeve thermal layer before the climb in the canyon so I wouldn't die of heat. Once I got to a stopping point I quickly threw the long-sleeve thermal top back on so I wouldn't die of hypothermia. Unfortunately, I did not have any long bottoms to keep my legs warms. For the next x number of miles until I reached the transition area for the rappel I was frozen; I couldn't feel my face, my legs, or my hands and fingers for that matter, which made trying to use my breaks a little scary.
This is a view looking up of the 300ft vertical cliff that I had to rappel down. This rappel was actually optional, but there were time disadvantages placed on you if you decided to skip it. I have done enough rappelling in my days to know that this was something that I could do, despite my fear of heights. I had even recently overcome or at least come to terms with my fear of the rope breaking. This fear is derived from a childhood experience and has continued to be a real fear for me my entire life. When I was in my pre-mature years – um, let me rephrase that – when I was still a child (age perspective) my dad was swinging me in huge, fast circles on a tire swing attached to the tree in the backyard of my cousin’s house when in an instant the rope snapped and I went flying head first into the trunk of the tree (and yes, this does explain a lot of things, I know). Ever since then I have been afraid of ropes breaking while being attached to them at great heights. I was telling this fear to the secretary at work and she unsympathetically stated that the rope wouldn’t break. I contemplated that for the rest of the week and came to the reality that ropes, especially as thick as a rock climbing rope, don’t just snap or break. It would have to be severely cut or frayed for that to happen. When I had that reality check and mentally decided that the rope snapping was not a possibility I felt so much better and more confident that I could zip down that rappel without a problem.
I knew that the ropes guides at the rappel station were certified, in whatever certification that is, and qualified to make sure that everything was safe for me to rappel, so I didn’t have a problem trusting them. I got my harness roped in and was set to go. I knew I would be really nervous walking backwards off the edge of this 300ft. cliff but there wasn’t time to be a pansy or take my jolly little time. I had a race to finish and was only halfway through with 5 hours already behind me. I didn’t let my fear get the best of me and I took going over that cliff like a champ. Once I got over and was hanging with a little less than 300ft. between me and the ground the thought went through my head, “What if my harness fails?” Fear immediately surged through every fiber of my being. The harness that I was using was recently purchased for Search & Rescue, but had not been used in a rock climbing situation, nonetheless had more than 10lbs. of pressure placed on it. Basically, I had not established a trusting relationship with my harness yet, which is kinda important when you’re dangling nearly 300ft above solid ground. I was terrified. To help myself remain somewhat calm I began giving myself ‘uppers’ like, “You’re doing great Rachel! You’ve come this far. You’ve got this. Just don’t look down and feed the rope through the rappel device; it’s as simple as that. Look at you Rachel! Look at what you’re doing! How many people get to experience this in their life? You’re doing it! Keep it up girl.” Call me crazy, but I had to do something to distract my mind from thinking that I was about to abruptly come to the end of my life.
I was kind of in a hard spot too mentally; I wanted to zip down the line quickly to reduce the distance I would fall if my harness were to break, but I also didn’t want to go fast because I was afraid of losing control and being unable to regain control. I guess either way I was plummeting to my death it was just a matter of deciding which style I wanted to go out on. Well, needless to say I made it to the bottom without my harness failing on me or the rope snapping. Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever did a workout in all my training where I was able to get my heart-rate up to the same speed it was while hanging on that rope. A new standard…?
The least looked forward section of the adventure race was the six mile run. I’m not a runner. My body isn’t built for it. Yes, I can force myself to run (I did run a half marathon – 13.2 miles) but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it. I love doing adventure races and triathlons, but it always comes with a price – running – that I have to pay in order to be able to do everything else. So, here I am looking like I am enjoying my six mile jaunt through creek beds and on dirt trails. I did pretty well for the first two-thirds of the run, but once I hit mile 3.5, which was a checkpoint, my body gave out. It said ‘no more’ and it really meant it. No matter my efforts in attempting to what I would call a ‘pathetic jog’ I wouldn’t last more than a few strides. I knew that the majority of the bike ride to the finish line was downhill and so I downed the remaining energy gels I had in my pack. That should do the trick and get me going again, I thought. Nothing. Not even a little surge of energy. I couldn’t believe it. I wasted the energy gels and had no more ‘fuel’ for the rest of the race. My body went into survival mode. With 20+ miles still yet to go it needed to preserve whatever energy it could. I was left to walking the remaining 2.5 miles of the running section. I think everybody else behind me was feeling the same way because nobody passed me.
I got back to my bike with a lack of thrill and excitement to once again ride in the cold wind. Can you tell how exhausted I am in this picture? I was just glad to be done running (or walking) and be on a mode of transportation that was faster than a walking pace. The faster I went the faster I would get to the finish line. I got on my bike and rode for about 15ft before stopping to figure out what the ‘knocking’ sound was that my bike had been making the entire time I had been riding it. I have this paranoia that after taking off my front tire and putting it back on that I won’t tighten it tight enough causing the front tire to come off while riding it. And with this bike, it is the same story as my harness. It was my first time riding it since purchasing it (due to Idaho’s bitter winter months) and so I did not have a trusting relationship with my bike either. I was paranoid that the knocking sound was a loose front tire just waiting to come off. While checking it out a gentleman not apart of the race stopped to make sure everything was ok. I told him about the knocking sound and he kindly offered to take a look. He grabbed the front tire and shook it back and forth. My jaw dropped when the tire wiggle back and forth. The guy took my tire off and figured out that the bolt in the middle of the tire that runs through the pipe was loose, causing there to be a space between my fork and the bolt, which was making my tire wiggle back and forth making a knocking sound as the fork hit up against the bolt. He tightened the bolt as tight as he could with his hands but stated that it really should be tightened with a tool. He reassured me that my 4 mile ride uphill out to the road would be no problem. I hesitantly asked him about riding downhill. He responded with caution in his voice telling me to make sure that the bolt is tight before going down anything or there might be the possibility of the tire coming off or the breaks failing. Great! That is exactly what I needed to hear to boost my paranoia!
Groaning, I got back on my bike and began the 4 miles uphill trek to the road and last check point of the race. I couldn’t see anybody ahead of me or behind me. It was just me and the dirt road. My back pain was worse than it had been all day which caused me to get off and walk my bike to find relief from the pain. I was regretting forgetting to take Aleve before the race and leaving it in my truck instead of putting it in my pack. I was long past any type of competitive drive. I just wanted to finish the race alive and in one piece. I knew there were others behind me because there were still bikes lying around at the transition point, but I could have sworn I was in last. And so be it if I was. They could call for a search team for all I cared.
I got to the check point at the end of the dirt road and my hope for some type of support vehicle being there was quickly shattered when I saw that there wasn’t a car or person in sight. My stomach was almost done eating itself and getting ready to move onto my vital organs. I was hoping somebody would be there to give me something to eat – a stale PB&J or a rotten banana – anything would do! I was also hoping that the support vehicle I was dreaming about just happened to have a pair of pants I could wear to protect me against the frigid wind. Well, no such luck was in my favor. I just wondered how long it would take for my lungs and heart to be consumed by my fiercely hungry body.
At each check point there is a hole-puncher that you use to punch a hole on your check point card to verify that you had made it to each of the seven check points along the way. Missing a check point punch would mean disqualification. With the thought of 16 more miles left to go, the possibility of my front tire coming off or my brakes failing, being freezing cold, having no energy, and nothing to fuel my body with I had a little of frustration, which I took out on my check point card with the hole-puncher. Instead of one hole on check point seven you will find a fury of scattered holes. Surprisingly it made me feel better. I was ready to get those 16 miles behind me.
I crossed the road to begin my way toward Long Canyon where I was planning on stopping to check my tire one last time. As I began peddling up the hill I notice that somebody had littered their Clif Bar wrapper on the ground, which was the first piece of garbage I had seen all day along the route. Then the realization hit me like a whack on the side of my head, “If that was a wrapper the wind would be blowing it across the road.” I quickly spun my bike around to investigate further in hopes that I wasn’t having hallucinations. I bent down and to my GREAT joy it was an unopened but incredibly squished Clif Bar. I sang HALLELUJAH giving much praise and thanks to God for this found life savor and praying that whoever dropped it would be blessed with the energy that the Clif Bar would have given him or her (even though most likely they had long finished the race). A Carrot Cake Clif Bar has never tasted as divine as that one did. My body was rejoicing with this new found source of fuel. As grateful as my body and I was for the Clif Bar the 240-calorie treat didn’t last very long, but the rest of the way until the bottom of Long Canyon was low-energy output because it was all downhill.
This picture is supposed to give a general idea of how steep the canyon was, but it lacks great justice in doing so. Use your imagination; it really was super steep. Stopping at the designated area before beginning the steep downhill ride of Long Canyon I checked and double checked my front tired. While stopped a solo female racer caught up to me. I was surprised to see another human being again. I didn’t think I would see one of those again until I crossed the finish line. And to have it be a competitor of mine was even more surprising. We had scaled a lot of Long Canyon together but after reaching the top I left her in the dust, only seeing her briefly again leaving the rappel section as I started my run. I had thought she passed me when I was taking a bathroom break during the run. We formally introduced ourselves to each other even though we had exchanged conversations several hours before. I pleadingly asked if she had an extra pair of pants I could borrow, but she didn’t. Instead she gave me a fleece headband to wear to cover and keep my ears warm. I graciously accepted her offer. We planned on riding down the canyon and to the finish line together, but with my front tire paranoia causing me to take it quite slow, and with her heavier weight causing her to go faster we separated. She stopped to tell me she couldn’t go as slow as I was going; I told her I couldn’t go as fast as she was because of the situation with my tire. She said she’d stop every now and then to make sure I still had two tires on my bike. She kindly stopped but eventually she just got too far ahead of me to make it worth it for her to stop and wait around for me.
I made it down to the bottom of Long Canyon relieved and grateful for my safety. With 5 miles left ahead of me to the finish line I could almost taste the food and warmth my truck was waiting to offer me upon arrival. I hit the road at a good 18mph pace and kept it strong until I crossed the finish line. I was SO happy to be done! WOOHOO!
I was beat. I was beyond beat. I trailed in 3 minutes behind my fellow competitor coming in last place in my division of solo female racers.
Click here to see the unofficial results of all competitors of the Moab Xstream Adventure Race.
Here’s a breakdown of my time:
Start time – 8:15am
Kayak/Bike Check-in: 1 hour 21 minutes (9:36am)
Bike/Rappel Check-in: 3 hours 29 minutes (1:05pm)
Running/Bike Check-in: 2 hours 14 minutes (3:19pm)
Finish line: 3 hours and 7 minutes (6:26pm)
TOTAL TIME: 10 hours 11 minutes
Not even CLOSE to the time or place I had anticipated or expected to finish in. This was my second Adventure Race, but first ‘extreme’ race I’ve ever done. It was an incredible learning experience if nothing else. Here are my thoughts, feelings, and lessons learned from my grueling experience:
1. This race was 100 times harder than I had ever thought it would be. My training was nothing what it needed to be in preparation. My training was beneficial and I believe I would have been one of the 12+ hour finishers without it, but I realized my training was better suited for an Olympic-style triathlon, not a 50-mile adventure race.
2. I partly blame the race creators for the lack of information given about the race that would be beneficial if not crucial to racer’s preparation. They don’t give you a map until the night before and you never know the mileage or elevation gain/loss for each of the disciplines, which leave the racers with only guesses on how to train. Had I known how freaking steep that canyon was going to be I would have training COMPLETELY different! There isn’t any weather condition averages from past years coupled with suggestions on how to prepare clothing-wise. I would have brought biking pants and a wind-stopper jacket with me had I known previous weather conditions! The lack of information is pathetic and it sits under the justification that they want the route to be kept ‘secret’. Their secret is detrimental to the racers because nobody can properly train for a race like this unless they’ve done it or similar races like it.
3. Even though you may think that you are going to finish a 50-mile race in 5 or 6 hours it is still wise to pack real food with you instead of strictly energy gels or drinks. At the check point before the rappel a couple of guys were pulling out PB&J sandwiches to fuel up. I had nothing and the energy gels I had did absolutely nothing for me. Pack food, but don’t go overboard.
4. Take a pain-killer before any race. If you don’t or forget to at least make sure you have some on your persons so you can take it when you remember you forgot to take it when the pain starts to kick in.
5. Having a race partner always makes the race so much more enjoyable! It’s hard motivating yourself to push harder, longer, and stronger. A race partner can do this more than you can on your own. Or even having somebody at the finish line could boost your motivation a lot. Make it happen wherever possible.
6. Have a trusting relationship with all of your gear/equipment by using it frequently prior to the race. And try to overcome any fears you may have; take the challenge head on.
7. Celebrate! Whether you come in first or last you finished and accomplished something great. Take the time to celebrate your hard earned achievement and stay focused on the positive aspects of the race while learning from the negative ones.
8. Drink more water!
With this adventure race completed I look forward to participating in three less intense triathlons in the coming months. After a week of rest and with 8 weeks until the first triathlon, it’s back to the gym for training! Stay tuned…..
