Olaf and Charlie are hands down the best adventure racing team possible. I think I'm going to ask them along for the New Orleans race. If I can draft off Charlie in the bike and Olaf can encourage me along in the run like at Natchez Trace, I'm winning this thing. My job requirements during the entire 12 hours of racing only consisted of carrying the team ovaries and trying to keep up. Oh, and not complaining for at least the first 6 hours, which I think I did pretty well, right Charlie? The vocalization of my butt bruising was mere fact, not a complaint. I think I kept up pretty well, except that first leg of the bike when the brakes were so tight on my front wheel that I couldn't spin it but 2 inches before it stopped. I tried not to get too stinky by tiptoeing through the mudholes, but that all went out the proverbial window as we trekked through the knee-deep creek. The water was strangely oily-filmed, which I attributed to the underground crude oil pipeline that was coincidentally within a mile of us at all times. I think it helped seal off the thorn wounds on my thighs and shins. No infections arose from all of that good clean dirt being ground into my skin. It was much like a healing mudbath. Or really not so much.
But back to the upcoming race. The only preparations I've made so far, with 5 days to go, are collecting my GUs and various other nutritional aids, and.. um.. well that's it. But it seems so simple to pack for a half ironman after that adventure race and all its required gear. Nobody is going to stop me along this race course and ask to see my knife and matches. But it IS New Orleans, so they might ask me to see something else. At least maybe I'll get some beads out of it.
On the agenda for this week is to find my wetsuit, get down my race wheels, change some cassettes, and pack it all up. Party time!