by Jess Evans
April 10, 2018
When a race director sets the race time frame to 8 hours, or 12 hours, or 4 days (96 hours), that is the maximum time you have to get as many checkpoints as possible and get to the finish. Those times are not negotiable – which can be pretty nerve wracking. There have been a few times where I have missed the cut off time for an adventure race, but it has been rare. Always an hour before the cut off I begin to get this foreboding feeling of the looming deadline. As I gauge if I can get a few more checkpoints, the fear of being late rises steadily in my mind. If I am with a team, I resist the urge to press my teammates to start heading in. But I really want to start nagging… “Let’s get back. Forget about that checkpoint. We need to get back!”
My most recent late experience was Frigid 2017. I was racing it as a solo, working on my navigation skills. Earlier in the race I had gotten myself turned around and missed a checkpoint I should not have missed. I gave up on it and headed for the northern section of the course picking up checkpoints as I went. When 1 hour before cut-off time hit, I turned south towards the finish.
I moved along quickly and came to a point where I could continue south to the finish or veer to the west and pick up that one checkpoint I missed earlier. I weighed my options, and then took off at a break-neck speed down the creek valley to the re-entrant where my missed checkpoint hung. I knew I could get it this time because I was approaching it from a better angle. As I turned the corner up the side re-entrant, there it was on the hillside. I was making good time, but the minutes were ticking away. I moved quickly up the hill, punched my card, and stopped for a few seconds to think through the fastest way to get back to the finish. Traveling on the trail was the fastest route for me, so I took off for the trail at the top of the hill. I hit the trail and increased my speed. My legs pumped under me with all the fear of being late to the finish.
Suddenly, I skidded to a stop! I was confused. I was at a crossroads and did not know which trail would get me where I wanted. Panic rose up in my chest. Which way? I chose a trail and went for it. With the trail twisting here and there, I realized this was not the most direct route. Time was wasting away! I knew the direction I had to go and jumped off the trail into the woods, going up and down hillsides – slowing my pace on the rough ground. As I approached the building, I saw that I was literally 1 minute from being late. I ran into the building, trying not to be rude to those racers who were finished and lolly-gagging in front of me as I ran between the tables to where Dallas sat. “Move out of my way!” I bellowed in my head.
Reaching out my hand desperately, I handed my punch card to Dallas. He clearly did not feel the immense urgency that was pulsing through my veins. He sat calmly behind the table jotting down my finish time without a care in the world. In a casual voice he said “you are one minute late,” as if it was no big deal. “Noooo!” was my anguished cry internally. That last checkpoint and my reckless flight back to the finish were worthless. One point taken away for being late! But… there was a sense of pride that I had given it my all. Wow, I love adventure racing!