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A SORCAR report by Elena Bulakhtina

I liked playing in mud when I was a kid. Needless to say, my old-fashioned parents gave me hell for ruined clothes. Fortunately, sweet childhood is over but old habits die hard: most of my so-called hobbies involve conquering the mud. Alas, there is no real 4-wheel off-road racing in Pennsylvania. (Let me explain myself before you get angry. I am Russian. There are no roads in my home country, only directions. Go and see for yourself). Luckily, there are plenty of trails for running and biking. And it is more fun to wallow in dirt in an organized fashion. That’s why I was singing “let it rain” on Friday before the SORCAR race. My colleagues did not understand why someone is willing to wake up at 4.30 on Saturday morning in order to drag a bike along messy paths trashed by horses. They decided I had a bad case of “pre-traumatic stress disorder” before the board exams. I decided not to argue. Meanwhile, my teammate Max lost no time. Having been traumatized by our performance on “Two below duo” in winter, he took action. He spent a half a day checking the bikes. He prepared two gallons of water and a bag of energy gels. Since a gear list included a knife, he packed an extra one on top of two multi-purpose bike tools we always carry. He watched twice “map and compass 101” on “youtube” to refresh his memory. I caught him practicing “sudoku” – he has heard some races have “cerebral” tasks before the physical challenges. In retrospect, I should not have made fun of him for that…

The race took place at the Raccoon Creek State Park, which is about 40 minutes by car from our home. We have been there a couple of times, and I assured Max that it would be easier to find the Recreation Hall than a barn in the woods of Warren. Indeed, we did not get lost and arrived an hour before the pre-race meeting. Max did not quite like what was going around. There were about 50 teams, and unlike us, most of them knew what they were doing. In his opinion, there majority of the participants looked intimidating: hi-tech clothing, special adventure racing gear and a look of professional athletes. We wouldn't stand a chance. He is always optimistic, my teammate.

Upon entering the Recreation Hall, we were puzzled. Literally. The instruction sheet said that each team had to complete a jigsaw puzzle before the start. In other words, you don’t start until damn thing is assembled. I asked melancholically whether Max had practiced jigsaw puzzles by any chance. He did not. No sweat, I told him. It is not a neurosurgery, we have plenty of time and we did it before. That’s what the knife was for: to opened a box of puzzles:). While Max was fetching it from the bag at the transition area, I managed to open the box with nails and teeth:). We finished two minutes before the briefing. Moral: when the evil organizers say “give yourself plenty of time before the start” you’d better pay attention.

This time the race format was the following: 3 loops of running (“yellow”, “green” and “red”, about 3 miles for smart participants) and a 10-mile bike course (“blue”). Each leg had a number of check points (CP), which we were supposed to collect in no particular order while running and in a strict order while biking. The maps provided by the local orienteering club were given to us about 20 minutes before the start. We even had time to develop a “strategy” for each stage, which didn’t help us anyway:).

As usual, at the beginning everything was going just fine. I even started to believe that we may not be that hopeless after all. As soon as I shared my thoughts with Max, we found ourselves in a “green loop conundrum”. Just like the rest of the racers we discovered a discrepancy between the map and the reality: CP8 and CP7 were switched by the wicked organizers. What do people of the reasonable intelligence do? They say something nice about Grass Root Racing club, correct their course and continue the race. What do the idiots like us do? They spent 40 minutes running around before they acknowledge that there WAS a mistake. I recall, we crossed this bloody stream at least 4 times and returned to the “CP8” at least twice… In spite of good advice to wear long pants, both Max and I were in shorts and low cut socks. When we finished the running part, we were cold, wet and bloody. Of course I blamed Bethann for everything: she had to listen to my poisonous tirade. Bethann, I’m sorry for that!

I was not particularly surprised then I saw a largely deserted transition area. There were only few bikes left. Max’s spirit was getting low (and so was mine) but we decided to do our best. There was no mud at the beginning of the bike course. There was a downhill gravel road. One of these where you can gain a considerable speed. You know it would hurt if you fall but you go fast anyway. So did the guy whose helmet crushed like an eggshell – we saw the remnants of the “protective gear” along the road. The body was nowhere seen. I figured it either had been carried away or continued the race. Later on we met a survivor: a guy from the team #59. Apart from the abrasion on the left cheekbone and torn shirt on the left shoulder, he looked well-preserved and was even helping his teammate to carry a bike uphill. I observed him for a while and decided not to bother him with stupid questions. I was having a second thought on the way home: what if he had a lucid interval? Some head injuries can be deceptive…

We could have been terribly lost on the bike route. We almost persuaded ourselves that we don’t need to turn to messy Appaloosa trail. At least two more teams decided not to do it. We all were saved by a guy who was on a “home run” – he confirmed that Appaloosa is the right way to go. I studied the map at home: indeed, it was the only way to go! It was so obvious AFTER the race. Anyway, that’s where the real fun began. In several minutes our bikes looked like blobs of mud with wheels. There were parts where even Max had to go on foot (he always tries to bike no matter what). After a couple of downhills I realized that I had made another mistake: I forgot my cycling glasses in the car. It is fun then your eyes are plastered with wet, soft, sticky earth, but it obscures vision:). Meanwhile, some kind of freezing rain had started. But it really did not matter because we finally were on the home stretch: last three CPs were no brainier even for us. Quite a number of people noticed a “certain improvement” in our performance. I told them we do better if no shooting is involved. They asked: “How about paddling? There will be TURFF in May”. Sure, why not. I hope I sounded confident. We have three weeks to find out the difference between a kayak and a canoe….