“Who Are You Guys?”

By Ken White

As we nosed our kayak toward the front of the pack at the starting line of the Boston Balance Bar 24-Hour Adventure Race, I felt a slight twinge. Did a team of amateur athletes really belong here, amid some of the world’s best adventure racing professionals? Turns out, I wasn’t the only one asking that question. Only 70 miles of paddling, mountain biking, climbing, cross-country running, continuous map-and-compass navigating—and cold rain—would provide the true answer.

The rules of the Balance Bar races are deceptively simple: teams of three (mostly coed) stay together the entire race. Every team carries at least a minimum amount of safety gear, as well as their own food and fluids. And every team devises and follows its own course, using a map and compass, to link together 15-20 “checkpoints” scattered across the race course. Teamwork and efficiency (besides fitness and experience) are the keys to success.

Unlike many of the professional teams that have trained together for years to compete in this five-race, $110,000 national championship series, our team—part of a larger venture called “Team OneWith”—met up the afternoon before the race.

For our first foray into the pro/elite division, Alyson Denk, an artist and social entrepreneur from Santa Monica, CA recruited Jay Pichard, who owns a medical staffing company in Tallahassee, FL, and your humble correspondent. Team OneWith (www.onewith.org), adopted a Native American ideal by racing in honor of the environment and the people that inhabit the planet. Team OneWith partners athletes, environmental groups, and corporate sponsors; raises funds for pertinent issues in the regions where team members compete; generates media attention; covers race costs; and helps “preserve the playground.”

E-mails beforehand confirmed that the three of us shared the same goals: fun, more fun, and a top ten finish. And we agreed on personnel management: if a team member is not making stupid jokes (like defining portage as French for “carrying this &^$%# boat is dumber than pushing a car uphill”), check to make sure he or she is OK. Otherwise, full steam ahead. But racing on only three hours of sleep (travel logistics and heavy Boston traffic conspired against us), the jokes were more stupid than funny, and our steam power was still unproven.

After Mariah Carey warbled the national anthem (on disc, alas) into the dawn’s early light, sixty teams portaged their kayaks across Fan Pier and pointed into a clammy wind for a 12-mile kayak leg that wove through Boston Harbor.

Jay set the pace from the front, while Aly navigated, steered, and gave a paddling clinic/commentary on the fly. I heard a constant stream of “watch your rhythm,” “rotate around your spine,” and “more weight on your left cheek.” It really wasn’t funny after a while, but it did work. Through the first checkpoint on Peddock’s Island, we kept the three lead teams (eventual podium toppers SoBe, Earthlink, and Balance Bar) in sight as we portaged the kayak across a sand spit.

We beached at Nantasket around 9:00, portaged our kayak to the checkpoint, and quickly transferred to our bikes. It was my turn to lead through 23 miles of rooty singletrack through Wompatuck State Forest. Teams darted in and out of view, poring over maps and heading in all directions as they chose different routes through the maze of dense woods trails.

A few of the other elite teams seemed a little surprised and slightly miffed to see us racing with them. Hmmm. But with a combination of “local knowledge” of the trails and hard riding, we stayed in the hunt.

Back to the kayak, we unfurled a sail to improve our pace. However, the bailer ultimately proved to be more useful in the choppy waters criss-crossed by fishing and pleasure boats. There followed another portage across the traffic on Quincy Shore Drive. Fun—not!

A steady three-mile road run took us up to Quincy Quarries, where we donned our climbing gear for a quick session of rock climbing and rappelling, and then plunged into the woods of the Blue Hills for 12 miles of cross-country running and orienteering. Near the end of this scenic section, a miscommunication about fluids and food (at a burn rate of hundreds of calories and a liter or so every hour, resource management can be critical) cost us precious time. I was “muling” much of the team gear and supplies, but had shared the wealth a little too generously. Suddenly I was too busy dreaming of cookies to make jokes. Uh-oh. Fortunately, Jay hooked me to a length of surgical tubing and “towed” me up the last few climbs.

Down from the Blue Hills in seventh place, we fueled up on the water and food we had stashed in the boat. Outdoor Life Network stuck a television camera in our faces and asked: “Who are you guys?” Lacking a short answer, we chose to show instead of tell.

Darkness and steady rain closed in as we portaged our (two-ton, minimum) kayak across a l-o-n-g tidal flat for the last eight miles of paddling—and a critical navigational decision. We headed around and under the Long Island bridge, while two other teams portaged (God knows how) their boats across a causeway as a short cut and pulled ahead. Swinging into the checkpoint on Thompson’s Island, we saw the lights of another team about five minutes ahead, and set out in hot pursuit.

We passed Team Hi-Tec just as we rounded Castle Island…and promptly ran aground. However, we recovered quickly and pulled away under the jet wash from arriving planes at Logan, and past a half-dozen party boats blaring live music and drunken hollering.

Back at Fan Pier, we portaged the (lead and concrete) kayak 200 yards to the finish where the announcer hailed “Team Hi-Tec” for claiming eighth place. Sigh. We were still “Who are you guys?” At 9:42 pm, we dropped the boat (gently but decisively), hugged, and sprinted for the warmth of the medical vehicle.

Ken White, a nonprofit consultant, lives in Somerville, MA, the home of Independent Fabrications (whose bikes he gleefully rides).