Ken
What's Ken's story?
That is a good question. Ken started really taking to the mountains and valleys number of years ago. Although always have had a fascination and enjoyed hiking and the like prior he didn't start to intensify things till a little later in life as many do. But when he did, it came with a bit of intensity! He just jumped right in, he backpacked for several days in the Grand Canyon on a number of occasions solo. Climbed a number of local mountains and hills here in the Oregon Cascades, hiking in the back hills of Hawaii and seemed to pick up a bit rock-climbing and scrambling along the way. He's been an active supporter of the Hood 2 Coast in the past and is looking forward to some new adventures to add to the resume of many accomplishments. We have been taking on snowshoeing, backpacking and our new toys are street bikes. We are hoping to take on some bike trips from time to time. Otherwise Ken's been looking forward to expand his local awareness near Mt Hood and the parts of the PCT with friends and family.
This is Ken's "Wicked" race story
“If you’re going through Hell, just keep going.” This thought had been rehearsed and then put to good use during all eleven hours and forty six minutes of my first “Wicked Adventure Race", but let me elaborate on that just a bit.
The threat of rain loomed as we packed the last few items into the 4runner about six am race morning. All of us were anxious but ready. After we arrive, we made our way to the staging area. Adrenaline was flowing and I felt good and strong. I was nervous more about the route-finding and letting Karin have time to plot our course than anything else. As start time neared, we were informed that we would not need to plot our course because of the weather – whew, what a relief, now I was really ready, “no worries mate.”
I’m a big believer in managing “expectations” – in other words, that doesn't work, so don’t even let expectations get started, just deal with reality as it comes, “Yeah, right!” I had it in my mind that we were going to be hiking during this “Wicked Adventure Race” for miles on soft mother earth – “DIRT” as it’s commonly known. Which was just fine by me because having stress fractured my right foot TWICE in the past eighteen months, I was still not at all confident in the strength of my foot. In fact, I had not run on hard surface, I had not really even walked on hard surface for a year and a half. I had been training inside, walking stairs, riding the bike – no pounding my feet – none at all. In a way this set my mind at ease, because I would know what to expect, and I knew that I could deal with dirt! 20 minutes before the start we gathered for the pre-race meeting. There and then I heard the most dreadful words that could have been uttered from the man’s mouth – “morning RUN”. There aren’t many things that I am afraid of, but when I heard we had to “RUN” - I was mortified. There must be a mistake, a BIG mistake. This is not a running race dude, this is an adventure race! You don’t run in these things, you hike, RIGHT? Wrong, today…, in this race you RUN. There were just a few things going through my mind at this point…
I was “expecting”… (see don’t set expectations ) I was trying to decide to wear my light-weight hiking boots or tennys - boots were obviously NOT going to work.
and, “what happens if I break my foot again?” That thought kept running wildly through my mind over & over. Let me tell you something – I am not talking about just a passing thought, I am talking about being afraid, very afraid, incredibly afraid, madly afraid, insanely afraid – get the idea? Having a broken foot had cost me – hobbling for two summers, two Munson Madness races, trips to the Grand Canyon, playing with my kids, foot pain, foot pain and more foot pain. NOT something I want to go through again – EVER!
I had just on a whim thrown in my running shoes – which I had not worn for exactly eighteen months – I don’t know why I brought them, they hurt my feet - but I did, and am I glad that I did. However I was totally freaking out at this point, asking Karin what I should do, should I wear my boots (stupid question) or should I try these shoes – I really couldn’t believe these words were coming out of my mouth. Of course I shouldn’t wear the shoes; they were the same shoes I wore when I fractured my foot, I was afraid to wear the shoes. The start time was now only 5 minutes away. I tried to run for about fifteen seconds on the hard surface in my boots and just shook my head – I couldn’t wear “BOOTS”! I took my Superfeet insoles out of my boots and put them in my running shoes, changed socks (which I also threw in for some unknown reason) and walked up to the starting line. The race started and my legs moved, fortunately my feet moved along with them – I was….rrruunnniiinnnnggg. Thankfully I was created with a desire to compete, to lead, to be strong, to do my part, to finish this race, even if that meant running. While my focus was on the race itself, I battled those fear and anxiety thoughts off and on for the next 11 hours and forty six minutes.
So now we were off, we followed the map, we took a shortcut across a park, then a burst of speed to cross the street and beat the cars, within just a few minutes the reality of the race absorbed some of my fear and soothed my thoughts. Now I was part of a TEAM – it wasn’t just about me anymore, it was about my love (my best friend Karin), and our friend Tonya. The first leg of the race was a blur, it was total adrenaline, reaching into the unknown, breathing hard, walking and finding our collective pace. I wondered how Tonya (whom is a competitive Triathlete) would do with walking – I mean the fact that we had to walk at times and not run – would she be disappointed, would she be upset – that question was quickly answered – she was part of the TEAM – let me tell you, that is a great feeling – working together and working in harmony – in synch – tapping into the power of three instead of just what we individually could offer.
Soon, the second leg of the race was on. Now we were hauling rented kayaks down to the river and doing our best to get in without flipping over. In the rush to get in and get going, I didn’t get my kayak skirt on properly. I was sitting on about half of it and all my gear was behind me – oh well, not much I could do about that after we took off. This was, to be exact, my second time in a kayak, period. Karin and I rented a kayak on Thursday and spent a few hours wearing our arms out paddling a warship of a kayak, out and back a few times. This day was different; this was a sleek boat, a dream to paddle. It slipped through the water seemingly effortlessly. I have to say that during the nearly two hours I paddled, my arms were not nearly as exhausted as they were the few days before. And by the way, that’s not because I let Tonya and Karin pull me, not so, I paddled hard.
When we had pulled out into the water the weather was holding, no rain, it was nice and cool. About an hour into our race, we passed the Fremont Bridge and realized that had missed a checkpoint back around the Broadway Bridge, “oops, we'll have to get that later.” It was at that point we could see the rain coming. Fortunately we had just passed another team so I felt strong and was totally in race mode. I yelled to the girls “another 10 minutes and we WILL be at the St Johns Bridge – let’s GO, GO, GO”.
Soon after that the rain unleashed torrent after torrent as the waves and headwind began to slow us substantially. Because my kayak skirt wasn’t right, I was taking on water – fast! And because my pack was behind me I couldn’t turn and reach any water or I would flip the boat, I was thirsty and needed energy. My eyes were burning because the sunscreen I had put on earlier was now totally washing off my forehead. My glasses were making it impossible to see anyway because they were totally soaked. “Onward, row harder, let’s get this done” – and we did – without letting the boats we passed catch up to us.
On the sand now, pulling and carrying the kayaks up to the checkpoint and swap out for Rollerblades. Packing socks in plastic bags was a smart idea after all! The rain let up, we got our blades on and hurried off up the hill with a new map in hand. Scurrying, slipping, screaming, laughing – we did it all trying to get up the first hill. As it turned out that was to be the easy part of this segment of the race.
The map showed a water tower. We found a water tower and felt like we had everything under control – wrong! For the first time in the race, I started to feel doubt and fear as a team - we were now collectively staring adversity in the face. We were lost and really didn’t know which way to go. We had a dose of the mental aspect of the race just minutes ago when we missed a checkpoint – this seemed different though. It felt like we could just self destruct or …. could we figure this out? We were a team, yes listen and work as a team; that was the way out. Karin was lead navigator – and let me tell you – that is not any easy assignment. We couldn’t expect her to do it alone, we each had to look, listen, observe and give her our intelligence as it were. We circled, we went right, back to the left, and then things started to make sense. This was NOT the water tower we were looking for – that possibility had not even crossed my mind – we changed course, we found our way – “thanks Karin, I love you baby”, “thanks Tonya, you are one tough lady.” We spent the next hour or two, skating in periodic torrential downpours, working hard to find our way and working together. We made time to eat, time to drink, time to encourage each other. After a few navigational and ongoing skating challenges (and after Karin took a fall that left a nasty bruise) we made our way to the next major checkpoint. We were having fun, we were doing this and we were not last – that was a good feeling. I knew inside that we would do this, we would finish the race.
The next checkpoint was when we jumped on the Max train, yep that was also part of this race. We waited for the train to depart – it was nice to get off our feet and sit for a while. As the train pulled away we realized we didn’t complete the checkpoint properly – we needed the name of the manufacturer of the bumper stop at the end of the tracks. “What to do? Go back and lose more time? Ask another team?” I figured it was worth a try to ask the conductor. He didn’t know. We would have to go back, or would we? The conductor decided to call the HQ – after a few minutes of waiting on pins & needles the answer to our needed question was provided – “SWEET!” Now we needed to find the answer to our other missed checkpoint question – so decided we would get off the train and go figure it out.
At this point in the race, we were aware that there were at least three teams behind us. After searching out the Broadway Bridge answer that we needed, we caught the next Max train & guess what? Two of the three teams that were behind us were on the train – “yikes”. Oh well, we had a few laughs together and then made our way back to find out what adventures were yet ahead.
We next had a choice as to what we wanted to do, the ropes or trek section. We had already decided before that was the ropes that we wanted to tackle. Tonya was sketched about doing it she had good reason, having nearly done a 360 practicing the day prior. Things happen and it really is about how you handle it all that determines who you really are, so this was next. We found our way to an unnamed parking garage and looking up 10 stories saw our next challenge. Elevator anyone? Not! Unless that is, you want to be disqualified. Take the stairs with a smile. I would be first on rope, we had this all planned out in advance.
Once at the top of the garage, the volunteer was first class, let me tell you, I have rappelled dozens of times, but my mental capacity was dulled somewhat. I clipped into the safety by mistake, dumb stuff, part of it because I was trying to hurry, but mostly because I couldn’t think quite straight. The rappel itself was fun, and I felt totally fine about it. The height didn’t even cross my mind; I was very focused on getting this done and moving on - quickly. I yelled up 10 stories “off belay” and waited for Tonya to come down. It seemed like an eternity before I saw her back onto the ledge – it wasn’t hard to figure out that she was struggling with this – this was her moment of truth. Fact is that it takes time to set up safely, check everything and more than anything I wanted Tonya to be safe. As she committed to the rope, I yelled encouragement. I didn’t know if she could hear me, but I yelled my heart out. Between floors I could see her swinging into the opening – bad idea. I tried yelling “push back! push back!” hoping she would drop a little faster and miss those openings. But she couldn’t hear, and she was doing it her way – which was cool. When she made it down it was a big relief – I was so happy for her. Karin was next, I had a little fun, I yanked the rope when she was about 20 feet from the bottom, which stopped her cold, just to be sure the safety worked – it did. Now off to the next challenge, a “wicked” surprise of some sort, was next; let’s get there as fast as possible and deal with whatever it was.
A mile run away we were handed a piece of paper with a bunch of instructions, we started reading – 15 flights of stairs – timed. Oh and don’t forget to read three sayings on the way up and be sure to repeat the complete saying when you reach the top, or you get to start over. This sucked (the phrase was "do you... feel the... wicked burn yet?" We made it, Done!
Back to race headquarters to find our next assignment. Disappointed, but at this point I was not surprised that the “trek” was completely urban. Mentally I remember taking it up a notch and gritting my teeth – my foot was just going to have to cooperate, that was all there was to it.
Our trek started off on the wrong foot. We decided to walk along the promenade to reach the Morrison Bridge – oops, we had no way to get to the Bridge approach because the Rose Festival was in full swing. We tried to cut through but were unable to. This meant backtracking – this was another situation that could have turned negative – it didn’t, we all put our heads down and did what we had to do – this after all is adventure racing, it is supposed to be hard, right? Checkpoint after checkpoint, mile after mile, block after block came and went. We were tired, yet pushing forward. Small goals, small victories – fueled our determination and desire to press on. My foot was a concern with each and every step. I knew I was over compensating and would likely regret that later, but I felt better knowing I could somehow save my foot from another fracture. Thirty nine blocks from the river we reached the turn and made a mad dash back to race headquarters.
It was now five fifteen and the map for our next and final segment looked a little brutal. We consulted with another racer who gave us a few pointers. I asked him how the ride was – and I could tell based on how he answered he was doing his best to play it down. The “wicked” reality of the ride was dead ahead.
Off we went – I remember other racers looking at us like we were crazy. Disbelief that we were still not finished was the expression I saw and feeling I felt. One gal looked over and told her partner, "well they are getting there moneys worth…"
"Enough; let’s get this done!" First checkpoint was easy, second we struggled with a bit – finally found what we were looking for and then started up into the hills. At first we were good, pace & power sustained – that was not to last for long. The climbs became increasingly more difficult; longer, steeper, more exertion, more punishment. I led, Tonya led, Karin giving us direction and some we went on assuming I knew where I was. The area became a maze, we pushed on, slowed down, went left when we should have gone right and before you know it we have climbed another hill or two we didn’t need to and were using up precious energy – both mental and physical. Yet we hung tough, turned around, found our bearings and kept moving. Council Crest at last – the volunteers had been waiting for us; were we last?
NO. Sweet! Now we had a downhill and onward to a part of town that I owned. I knew several ways to get where we needed to go. One way was shorter and likely steeper another was longer but more gradual. I knew that time was getting away from us, we had been on the bikes for two and half hours already and it was starting to show. Follow me I yelled as I pointed downhill and let the bike go. Karin did her best to yell for me to stop – I needed to stay with the team, not get too far ahead. We stopped to talk about our alternatives and decided to take the shorter route. I knew Tonya was tired, we all were, but I felt we had a couple more climbs in us – and a better shot to finish before 9pm.
Up Burnside we climbed, stop for a short break, fatigue was really apparent at this point. We turned up Macleay Blvd and I thought the best way was to turn up Imperial Terrace. I knew it was steep and fairly long, but much shorter. This was almost our undoing. That climb was punishing. Tonya stopped at the top. I had never seen Tonya stop. I asked if she was ok and she mumbled something about that climb and why did we have to do that steep stuff again or something like that. I didn’t know she was having breathing problems – but the coolness of the evening had set in, we all had jackets on at this point and we were sucking in cold air. She found her inhaler; I felt bad, particularly because once we reached the top of that hill I realized we could have stayed on Macleay – the checkpoint was not where I thought it was; it was farther west. I could have avoided this climb – yes there would have been another, but not quite as steep. Fortunately Tonya bounced back, the meds did the job, she climbed back in the saddle and up the hill. We found the checkpoint, we had made it! We were now fueled by an incredibly powerful emotion and drive to complete this race. It was literally all downhill from here and we knew the way.
Tonya asked at this same moment – can we make it by 8:45pm? I said no, no way. Still we began our descent, shortcut here, shortcut there and pretty soon we were on Lovejoy. We knew we had to go to the train station and the more I thought about it the more I thought we might make it. It was now eight thirty five. We stopped at the light on Lovejoy and 23rd and I told the girls – we CAN make this – IF we HAUL, I mean flat out give it everything we have…
We did.
At one point Karin yells at me while we are racing down Lovejoy because Tonya had nearly fallen after her bike tire slipped into the rail road track – I couldn’t believe she got back out without falling – incredible and boy was I ever glad. With determination and renewed energy we sped to the finish, flat out, together, smiling and hoping.
As we reached the race headquarters I looked at my watch and knew it was going to be close – VERY CLOSE! It was eight forty four by my watch. A moment later they told us that we made the cut-off by fourteen seconds.
It was a wonderful day.
Fun, challenging, full of ups, downs and all a rounds.
My wife Karin was all that I knew she was – tough, determined, resilient and resourceful. I knew that at times I had been somewhat demanding of her navigation skills because I kept pushing – particularly on the trek and the ride – she knows how to handle me – thank goodness!
Tonya is a tough cookie. I know where she came from and to have her with us, by our side, competing, pushing, taking it to the limit is a testimony to her sheer will, class and determination. I was proud to have her as a teammate.
Until next year...