So I was an hour or so into the 2009 edition of the December Chill, Infiterra Sports’ fun cold-weather race, when yet another person wanted to make a comment on my brand new fabulous pink kayak. I said, “Yeah. Santa got it at a great discount. And ain’t nobody ever gonna steal it. Plus, if anyone makes fun of me, I’ll beat them up. Any more questions?”

I should admit that most photos don’t do justice to the pinkness of the kayak. It is quite pronounced. And good for that very reason. I’ve reported on it before; this is now a report on the first competitive setting in which the kayak was used.

The short of it is that it was an incredibly fun race and that I did somewhat poorly. I was fortieth out of 91 competitors (teams or solos): a true mid-packer. The mistakes were all mine, the lack of fortitude also mine, but as it was my fourth adventure race, I will happily take it all as a valuable learning experience.

We had an incredibly balmy fall; only the last week did it get cold, in anticipation, perhaps, of a bunch of people running around in Michigan swampland. The race took place in the Huron Meadows Metro Park and the Brighton state recreation area. Its disciplines were orienteering, paddling — in a canoe for teams of two, in a kayak for solo competitors — mountain biking, and a surprise climbing event. The climbing thing, from the perspective of a recent initiate of the joys of climbing, was sheer fun: a 25′ portable climbing wall holds so easy even I could scurry it up in no time and punch my race passport.

The rules for this race were pretty complicated, and probably not of great interest to most. Let’s just say it was the best organized adventure race I have done so far, in terms of inviting strategic thinking (you could choose for many checkpoints whether to pursue them by paddling or hiking, and you could choose between carrying your bike through shortcuts or biking the long way). Those really interested can check out the race site, with the relevant instructions and maps. Also, the race organizers had designed it so that despite the ninety-one teams, the choices right from the beginning separated the group in a way that didn’t make it seem like a mass race on the streets of Boston or some such, but got individuals all alone in the woods.

So let me offer a couple of observations.

Icy swamp. It was 15°F when I got to the race location, and although sunrise — and glorious sunshine — made things much warmer soon, it never got above freezing. The river was sufficiently fast not to have frozen, but the numerous swamps around had about a half-inch layer of ice on them. This came in somewhat handy, I thought, when about fifteen minutes into the race I had to cross a swampy area between two checkpoints. I tried to step carefully onto logs or tufts of turf, but that didn’t last too long: I went clean through the ice into that lovely Michigan swamp mud, knee deep for both legs. Here’s an interesting report on durable gear. I was wearing four layers on my shins: Seal Skinz waterproof socks, Skins calf socks, bike tights, and adventure racing pants. The breaking ice did nothing to these, but it did scrape the skin off my calf and produce a gnarly bruise. The socks and my GoreTex shoes made the water and mud contacts not as unpleasant as they might have been.While there was some toe coldness during the race, and after, it was pretty much fine.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. There’s a lot of gear you are required to carry with you in an adventure race, and there are always threats of gear check to make sure you really do. Much of it is safety stuff you actually hope you don’t have to use, but some of it is actually something you do want to have on you all the time. A compass is of the latter kind. So imagine my frustration when I realized, as I was biking toward Brighton and more orienteering, that I had left my compass into the pocket of my personal flotation device when I was done with the kayaking. Imagine, further, the further frustration that resulted from my realizing my backup compass — it helps to be anal, or should! — was in my other backpack. Oh well. Orienteering in Michigan in the winter mainly doesn’t require a compass: you can generally get your bearings from looking at the map and  the landscape, but it was still frustrating. Especially as the sun, which I thought I could rely on for direction, decided to get covered by clouds. Fine, screw you, too! Fortunately, I connected with my friend Bob, who was racing with a newbie teammate Emma, a fabulously fast XC runner, and decided to tag along with them. Still, the stupid part also involved a couple of ridiculous wrong turns while biking on roads. They amounted to probably no more than a mile of wasted distance, but they sure reminded one of one’s fallibility.

Team work. Adventure racing really is a team sport, but I have mainly not taken advantage of that, at least officially. Still, racing the second orienteering course with Bob and Emma, and a bit later also with our friend Sue, was great fun. For example, when you are in a team, you can talk with the people, and you won’t get annoying songs stuck in your head for hours. And you also find things better.

Which is what makes adventure racing so much fun, really. It’s a sport in which, I would say, it is absolutely impossible not to be frustrated by errors, conditions, forces majeures, etc. several times in a race. New challenges — challenges you thought you prepared for but didn’t — arise all the time. But cool people, team work, and interesting observations about yourself and fellow humans help you overcome the frustrations and challenges. Which is why I’m looking at the calendar for the next challenges.