I know this blog isn’t about hunting or fishing but it’s my blog so you get to read about what I did this weekend. It was outside and there were boats involved so there is that.
This weekend I decided to run in an adventure race. That’s right, an adventure race. One of those events where you subject yourself to the elements, running yourself until your legs stop working just so you can get a t-shirt and water bottle. Yes, I realize how old I am.
I usually don’t get up at 5:00 in the morning unless I’m going hunting or fishing but since there is no water in the local lake and bow season is a week away why not go run and ride a little? Nobody every accused me of being smart.
The parking lot of the race TA (that’s transition area, yes I had to look it up too) looked like a spandex store exploded. The racer next to me was clad in a racing jersey with his team name and sponsors logos, bicycle shorts, some funny looking racing socks and you could measure his body fat in teaspoons. His bicycle helmet costs more than my bike, and his bike costs more than my truck.
Me, I’m wearing basketball shorts that look like Shaq’s hand-me-downs, a shirt that says “Welcome to Alaska, bring a compass because it’s awkward when you have to eat your friends”, and have the physique you normally see on the “before” pictures in a P90X commercial. Luckily, I brought a teammate who is as equally as non-athletic as me (long time buddy Chris Jenkins) so I won’t get lonely at the back of the pack.
The race started with a mountain bike ride that I’m sure has been labeled cruel and unusual punishment by 24 states. My legs cramped so bad that I couldn’t bend them. Note to self…get funny looking race socks to help alleviate leg pain. Second note to self…get in better shape.
Two hours later we put away the ancient Chinese torture devices on wheels and started the paddling leg or the race. This is something we can do since both of us kayak fish often. Luckily this was an easy leg, we only ran over one scuba diver training in the lake and didn’t tip the boat at all. I just wish we would have had a fishing pole.
The last part of the race is called trekking, which is a fancy way of saying you’re running around lost in the woods. Or as I like to put it, a typical hunting trip with Chris. Luckily, this trek had none of the elements that are usually inherent to one of our trips. We never really got lost, there were no bugs, and we had no need to wish we had a concealed firearm.
Five hours after the race started we jogged into the finish line, placing 9th out of a field of 29 teams. Not bad for a couple old guys who normally hunt and fish instead of bike and run.
But now we’re onto more important things. Deer seasons starts Saturday.