“The strength of the team is each individual member. The strength of each member is the team.” Phil Jackson

Less than 5 days after returning home from the Mexico Death Race, I was back in the airport, this time en route to Georgia for my next adventure. With the exception of a few items on the required gear list that I planned to pick up before the race, I took practically everything I cleaned from Mexico and threw it into my backpack. I was pretty exhausted, having worked all week and only sleeping 3 hours the night before my flight, due to last minute packing.

Landing just before noon on Friday, February 27^th, I had budgeted a few hours to run some errands before the race and make the 75 minute drive to Macon from Atlanta. The Gauntlet is a new extreme endurance event, and I was honored to be part of the first one. Matthew Waller, the race organizer, is a fellow Death Racer, so I knew I was in for a treat of sorts. He actually also raced in Mexico the weekend prior. It takes a lot of energy to race back-to-back 24+ hour races, as I later found out, but I cannot imagine racing and then directing a race the following weekend. Props.

I was the one of the first people to arrive at Paradise Offroad Park, where the race was taking place. Check-in was between 5 and 7pm and I knew I could use all the time I could get to organize the mess of gear in my bag. I also wanted to leave some time to socialize. This was the first race in a very long time where I did not know any other racers prior, and I was looking forward to meeting new like-minded people. What I found out was that almost every racer was trying their first 24+ hour endurance event. There was an enthusiastic, maybe somewhat nervous energy, and I was excited to be racing aside so many first timers.

The race was structured with both team and individual tasks. Not all of the tasks counted towards your final score, and we were to be told which tasks would offer points and how many. “The Gauntlet” was a head to head competition where the last competitors standing would complete an individual challenge for points.

I showed up to registration around 6:45pm, finally ready to go. First task: name the 5 languages in the race emails. I had skimmed through every email sent before the event very quickly, so I knew I was already screwed. I managed to rattle off 2 of the 5, resulting in a 300 burpee penalty. Upon completing the burpee penalty, we had to retrieve a cement bucket and carry it along a trail around a pond. I was one of the last people to begin my burpee penalty, but having had plenty of experience doing burpees, I was able to complete both tasks pretty quickly.

Our first task for points was a time trial around a 1 mile motocross track. I started with about four hours until the midnight cut-off to complete as many laps as possible. I decided to complete it as a very slow ultra-marathon. Knowing I could get in a solid 12-15 miles without taxing much energy, I comfortably jogged off on my own around the track. Approximately halfway into my first lap, I followed what I thought was one the race markers. It was one of our race markers, but it was not the one I needed to follow at that time.

I continued to run for another 10 to 15 minutes before it really set in that I was not where I was supposed to be. Sleep deprivation may have influenced my decision, stubbornness certainly did, but I kept on moving. Being a motocross park, with hundreds of acres of trails webbed in the forest, there were many other markers, and it was difficult to distinguish ours from the others in the darkness. I assumed that I would have to pop back out to a familiar place at some point. At this moment, I had already crossed through a vast, space-like field of multi-colored clay and was deeper into the woods than I thought. Another 15 minutes or so passed and I knew it was time to turn around. I could not hear anything. I was getting cold, and I had no water on me because I was allowed to get food and hydration in between mile loops.

When I finally made the decision to get over my stubbornness and turn around, I got lost in the web of trails. I passed over the same place twice, and as I came around it a third time I heard something moving about 12-15 feet from me. I stopped for a few seconds. This animal moved again, but not in a sudden way that it was scared of me, even when I turned my headlamp in its direction. I couldn't see the actual animal; I could only hear what sounded like it pacing. That was enough of a warning for me. In those few seconds I had already picked out a tree to climb up if it was a wild hog (which it wasn't), and then proceeded to scream at the top of my lungs and run.

I was desperate. I was tired. I was calling for help and nobody could hear me. I wanted to get out of those damn woods and run laps around that mile track until my legs wouldn't work. Anything was better than where I was. I finally came across a main trail/dirt road and followed it to where I could spot the registration table light far off in the distance. About an hour after I went out for my first lap, Waller, who was just about to head out on a search for me, was greeting me at the edge of the woods.

What an exciting way to start off the race. My plan was to make up as many loops as I could in the remaining time. I completed 10 more loops of the course and stopped with about 30 minutes to spare, to reorganize myself before the next task.

The next event turned into an unexpected nap time for me. We sat in two lines for a safety briefing. Having experience in races of this sort, I suspected that I should probably retain some of this lecture, but I was sleepy... and comfortable... and I accidentally dozed off in short bursts, missing about half of the lecture. Oops.

The briefing ended and we were instructed that the next event – a tractor tire carry – was to be completed as a team from the line you sat in. I was surprised by the cohesiveness of the teams. Usually team events are instant disasters, but there was an immediate flow; it was impressive.

Upon completion of this event, we were back to individual events. Over the next few hours I found myself doing many leg blasters (squats, jump squats, lunges and jump lunges), dragging a SOLID cinder block back and forth a few miles along a dirt road and through the muddy motocross track, and memorizing a sentence on a sign for a pop quiz.

After my unexpected forest adventure and unintentional nap, I finally felt like I was settling into the event. Then, the following question hit me as I was dragging this cinder block along:

“It's Friday night. I was lost and close to possibly being attacked by an animal, I am covered in clay and mud, exhausted and dragging a solid cinder block along a dirt road. Why am I doing this?”

I laughed to myself and without hesitation answered my own question: “Because this is absolutely crazy... and fun. So, why not?” I found myself once again amongst a kickass group of people, who wanted to test their boundaries and do something out of the ordinary. I continued smiling...

We were later tested on our knowledge from the lecture and sent out to complete a community service project involving the moving of a massive rock pile around somebody's property. Upon return to base camp, we circled up with one of our required gear items, a sledgehammer, for an overhead hold – everybody simultaneously held the one in front of them for three minutes, passing it to their right during a 30 second break, repeating the process until your sledgehammer made it back to you. This turned out to be a great half hour, getting to know everybody and cracking ridiculous jokes after being up all night. There's no better way to let the time pass than with laughter.

I wasn't laughing for long though, because we soon found ourselves lined up facing away from a pond. I was 4^th in line and it didn't take much to figure out what was happening. One by one, we walked up to the pond's edge where we watched our sledgehammer be thrown into the water at least 15 feet away. Those who brought “mini sledgehammers” (2-3lbs) we faced with a more difficult retrieval.

Unable to locate my sledgehammer, as it probably slid down into a deeper section of the pond, I took the penalty and laid in the water for about 5 additional minutes. Cue the Tough Guy flashbacks. After my penalty was over, I put on the dry clothes I took off and hustled back to base camp. There was no way I was leaving base camp until my leggings were almost dry and I was warm; the last thing I wanted to succumb to was hypothermia... again.

I was happy with my decision after discovering that our next and almost last task was a 10 mile hike along the trails I was lost on at the beginning of the race. I started off this hike by myself, but ran into another racer, Colin. We continued on together, passing the exact spot where I had the animal run-in, finding fresh coyote tracks in the surrounding mud. I'm pretty certain that was the animal that was pacing in the trees, and I was happy that I was unable to see it with my headlamp.

Colin and I ran into another racer, Radostina, and the three of us happily hiked our way to an unknown checkpoint. As we approached a hill, Devin was on his way back from the turnaround. Devin is a strong athlete and was rocking the competition up until we ran into him. He appeared to be teetering on his breaking point now in the race. As he was explaining this to us, a small tire that he picked up from the checkpoint we were headed to rolled down the hill in front of him, hit a stump, turned 90 degrees, rolled down a much larger hill and hopped into a pond. It was comical, but at the same time this appeared to be the final straw for Devin. So holding off any laughter for later, we told him to wait for us to come back, and that we would all hike back as a team.

We soon found out that little tire weighed at least 35lbs. Devin didn't have a way to strap it to his pack, which played into his sudden change of heart. As we crested the hill where we met him, we only saw his pack on the side of the trail. We instantly assumed that he decided to stop and left his pack and all of his gear in frustration. A few more steps would reveal that we were completely wrong. We found Devin on the side of the trail in the brush, curled up in a ball shivering and slurring. He developed hypothermia after fishing his tire out of the pond, and we were gone long enough for it to set in.

Instantly, with not a hint of panic, the three of us gathered spare clothes, exchanged them with the wet ones, warmed him up and gave him nutrition. I didn't even realize that we spent almost an hour between warming him up and walking with the race staff who rushed over to check on him. They tested him and gave him the OK to continue the race by our sides.

About to hike back

That final hike back to base camp was special. We didn't care about how fast we were moving or where we may have been in the rankings. We all shared a solid laugh about the tire flying into the pond. We relived the frightening moment when we discovered one of our own in critical condition, and how we all came together to his aide.

We exited the woods at the peak of the motocross course. The four of us screamed out in joy looking down towards base camp, realizing not only did we make it, but we made it together. It was a lot more meaningful to complete this journey as a group.

We arrived at camp and were told that we could relax for a few hours. There was a time cut-off before our final task, and five racers were still out on the course. As exhausted as everybody was, when the final two arrived literally minutes before time expired, the energy just exploded.

Our final task was not physical or mental. It was purely emotional. Two of the items on our gear list were oranges and olive oil, which we proceeded to learn how to make a candle from them. We were then linked to one another with rope and took a lap in the darkness around the 1 mile motocross course. We reflected on everything, and I'm sure it went deeper for many people than just what happened out on that course. I have never done anything like that during a race. It was beautiful.

On the motocross course one final time

My overall impression of The Gauntlet was extraordinary. I thoroughly enjoyed the balance between team and solo events, and endurance and strength events. A massive factor in the success of the event was the organization. Matthew and his partner, Tanya Bickham, executed a flawless race. Their wonderful support staff was readily available and played a large part in keeping everything and everybody in check. You can have the best race course laid out, but if you don't have great people behind it, it can quickly change the outcome. Thank you and congratulations Matt, Tanya and The Gauntlet crew for an epic inaugural event! I'm looking forward to the next one!

Finishers

rock on...
s

"Every dog must have his day." Jonathan Swift

If I was going to vacation in Mexico for the first time, why not make it a Death Race vacation? Rumors of it being the last DR, and after Tough Guy's hypothermia incident, I was craving another event before The Gauntlet at the end of February. It was guaranteed to be an experience very different from any Death Race in VT – unfamiliar terrain, altitude and the lost luxury of being able to locate safe(r) drinking water – and a race I had yet to attempt.

I packed the bare minimum; only the items I expected to use that weekend and nothing more. I planned to board the plane back to New York in the clothes I raced in, and had zero issues with that, though I anticipated the Delta passengers on my return flight might not have been too pleased. My nutrition consisted of a stack of Exo bars, Honey Stinger gummies, jerky, 2 oranges, a banana, mini Snickers, a bag of crushed tostatos (space efficient) and a Red Bull I hid in the bottom of my pack so I would forget its existence until I was desperate for a serious pick-me-up.

After arriving in Mexico City, I congregated with my fellow racers at the Angel of Independence, where we were instructed to get on one of two buses. If you were at the 2014 summer race, there was probably one thought that went through your head: choose wisely. In my mind, I decided that wise wasn't getting on what I thought would be a more rewarding race, but rather getting on the bus with familiar faces. There is a comfort in being with other Death Race veterans, and it lightens the mood.

A few hours later we were out of Mexico City and in the mountains. We turned off the main road, climbed up multiple switchbacks, drove through a forest and finally arrived at our drop point: a parking lot in Iztaccihuatl-Popocatépetl National Park . We were sandwiched between two volcanoes, Popocatépetl, which was very active, and would actually erupt the following week, and the dormant Iztaccihuatl.

Our first task was to be completed in our groups from the bus: locate our bibs.  Easier said than done. My Death Race paranoia kicked in when I had to choose a bus and was now in high gear, so part of me had a hunch that the moment they sent us out into a massive field that our bibs would magically appear in the parking lot we once stood in. Surprise. [Insert sarcasm.] They were. 

Unfortunately, before we were able to acknowledge this, both bus groups had split up into multiple groups and some people were well out of view and calling distance. Well over an hour later, everybody had their bibs and were lined up ready to start the real fun.

We stood in 4 lines with ceramic hand painted skulls we just unwrapped in hand. We were already given our skulls. The race did not even officially start. What I love about the Death Race is finding yourself in deeper levels of your mind, heart and soul. Usually somebody has a story why they are there. Mine has developed into a different story with each race, and my focus here was on my energy left out in the Killing Fields at Tough Guy. Additionally, there is usually an underlying race theme. In 2010 it was money; carrying $50 in pennies was no simple feat. Did you need it? Were the pennies worth their value in weight?

So the skulls...

From the outside, many people comment on the $5 plastic skull you receive after putting yourself through torture. “You're serious? That's all you get?!” Any Death Racer knows that this skull holds a lot more value than the $5 price tag, and that even if you leave without one, you're still going home with a life altering experience. I actually keep all of my skulls tucked away in a dresser. I don't look at them much but I know they are there for inspiration if I'm searching for it. The skulls that we cradled were the nicest DR skulls I ever saw, but they were still skulls. Everybody had their skull. That's what we all came for, right? Nope. Nobody was going to walk off the line just because they had their skull. In fact, I was more nervous that I had to keep it protected in my pack, hoping that when I eventually took it out, that it would still be in one piece. I also found myself more motivated knowing it was sitting with me at all times.

Time to get moving.

Everybody grabbed a dead fish from a bucket to carry until further notice. A stray dog was roaming the area when we arrived, and was still hanging around. I don't blame the pup; we each carried 2+ days worth of food, and now, a dead fish. We packed up the fish and skull and headed out. I was ecstatic to see the pup join, as when I was following the Adventure Racing World Championship last year, the now infamous stray Arthur joined Team Peak Performance. This stray became our Arthur.

I really don't have much to say about the surrounding landscape except that it was stunning. We hiked up Iztaccihuatl, surrounded by grassy fields, leaving Popocatépetl behind us. It was already late afternoon and between the setting sun and the wind, the fields of long grass were dancing in gold. Total Gladiator moment. If we weren't so pressed on time, I would have had no choice but to run through the grass and spin around with my arms outstretched, just for kicks.

We hiked as a complete group through nightfall, pup included. As expected, the temperature drastically changed and the altitude was starting to catch up with me, as well as some of the other racers who lived at much lower altitudes. Unfortunately some of the racers decided it was the end of their journey shortly after we reached our peak altitude – 13,996ft. I was cold and doing my best to ignore the throbbing headache that I had for over an hour.

As we descended, we were led through a barbed wire fence and into thick brush. Emergency whistles were being blown every few minutes as people were having difficulty navigating the lack of trail. I was shocked that I made it out of that portion unscathed, considering I'm currently looking at divots on my knuckles from smashing them into scaffolding the other morning from running down a completely empty NYC sidewalk. Just another day...

After reaching a checkpoint, they let us run down to the next checkpoint at our own pace (preferably a quick one). I headed off on my own, through what I wanted to believe was a misty cloud, but it turned out to be a massive cloud of dust. Every once in a while I would see two glowing eyes off in the distance – the pup – and smiled. I could have run like that for hours. I was in a peaceful state; I started to feel better coming down from altitude, and knowing that the pup was nearby, I felt surprisingly safe running alone through the darkness in a foreign place.

Upon reaching our next checkpoint, we regathered into four groups and were greeted by Joe Desena, who led us through a gorge-like area to a pile of intertwined fallen trees. Each team had to maneuver one of these trees, weighing a few hundred pounds and measuring anywhere from 10ft to 15ft+, to an unknown location.

Hours later, after navigating down a ravine and through a stream that was broken with deep pools, treacherous rocks and fallen debris, we hit a dead end. There was no choice but to evacuate us straight up and out of the ravine.

I love being outdoors during the night. Your surroundings take on very different characteristics with limited light and your imagination, especially when sleep deprived. I have a tendency to let my imagination take over and have a free-for-all during events like the DR; I don't let my focus escape me too much, but in a event that is just as stressful mentally as it is physically, I find a balance in having some fun with where my thoughts may take me.

Shortly after our evac, we arrived at what would be our final destination, a compound which we later found out was the location of a children's camp. The race was far from over and actually had yet to officially start. Three of the four teams were told they failed the task, including ours (the final team was diverted from the stream entrance because their log was too wide to even get it through the first section), therefore diverted from their places in the race. We took off our bibs as instructed and walked over to a lawn to begin our penalty – 500,000 jumping jacks as a group. It's a lot, but it's actually do-able. The 4^th team came back to join us, having honorably given up their bibs so we could all get a chance to finish. The sun finally began to rise (new day = new energy!) from behind the mountains in the distance as we jumping jacked the morning away and shared some subtle laughs.

We collectively completed a few thousand before being told that the race was finally starting. The actual race was brutal. Our first official task was fishing our bibs from the bottom of the stagnant pool that we were eying during our penalty. I've been submerged in some nasty water before (my favorite being the mighty Hudson River on multiple occasions), but standing next to floating dead mice and birds in a confined space has a shock factor. If that wasn't bad enough, we immediately ran off to a cement trough, where we were directed to belly crawl a few hundred feet through more questionable water and mud.

A quick run through another ravine and up a rock wall led us back to the main area where we began a triathlon of sorts. We each carried a log around half a mile up to a shooting range where we had 3 shots, provided that you didn't lose your bullets on the way up. Depending on where you hit the target, each racer was given a penalty upon bringing their log and target back to the compound. Unless you hit the target spot on with all three bullets, you had to do at least one lap in the pool. The worst part? Your face had to be submerged. I was penalized both trips to the shooting race. After accepting that the odds of preventing myself from getting sick were not in my favor, the laps became easier to complete.

The following task was yet another ravine walk, carrying cumbersome bags of firewood. It was interesting going back into the ravine where we were supposed to come out with the massive logs the previous night. Even though we were in a slightly different location, we were able to now see the eroding walls of dry earth that surrounded us, with large trees half rooted in them. The trees weren't going to fall, but it certainly added to the drama of the task, and flashbacks of the previous evening intensified knowing what we were in. At the turn around point, we had to complete a rock climbing task. It was a quick task, but I enjoyed the obscurity of the location – a bare, windowless and roofless structure in the middle of what seemed like nowhere. We headed back through the ravine with the wood and onto the longest task since the race officially began.

Welcome to summer camp.

It sounded simple. Complete a round of each of the following exercises:

Rotations around a pole sitting in a swing (a manual version of the swinger ride you find at an amusement park)

Steps up log posts of various heights

Dual rope traverse

Lateral traverse across three swings

Tire or log flips

Log drag (10 feet)

Sideways rolls

Burpees with a rock or sticks

25x, 50x, 75x and finally 100x.

It was not simple. It was horrible.

Lateral swings in front and the nauseating swing ride in the distance.

Looking a lot better than I felt.

Thankfully, I did not vomit on the swings like some people did, but I was fading fast. Dehydration was catching up to me, as nausea and that throbbing headache came back with a vengeance. I calculated that I drank a little over 3L of water over the course of the 20+ hours going into summer camp before I was able to get some more. It was too late to fully recover, but I was able to pull it together enough with the ongoing support of those around me, both racers and spectators, to complete summer camp with enough time to finish the course before the time cut-off.

Surviving summer camp within the time restraints was a huge relief. I knew I had less than a handful of tasks to complete before the finish, as other racers were already relaxing after finishing, including the pup who had earned a solid meal and rest. I was able to solve a riddle, sparing my body 100 thrusters upon return from a reverse run through the ravine and belly crawl through the now dry trough.

All that lay before me and the end was the fish.

Oh, the fish.

Oh. The fish...

We had to cook the fish that we packed up more than 24 hours prior and take a bite. I threw mine directly into the middle of the fire with not a care in the world, except cooking that vile rotting carcase of a fish as fast as possible and getting it over with. With three minutes to spare before the final cut-off, my fish was cooked, I took a bite and spit it right back out as we were permitted to do. My race was completed.

Group shot of the racers, directors, staff and volunteers.

At first, I was slightly disappointed that they planned a short, intense race. I was looking forward to hopefully watching the sunrise from somewhere on top of a mountain, or even one of the volcanoes on the second morning. Those feelings didn't sit long because unlike any other Death Race I've participated in, we all sat down after the race like a big family, enjoyed dinner and shared stories before retreating to our bunks. Yes, we were spending the night in beds. The simple things... Not only were we treated to a shower, proper meal and a bed, but the race directors arranged a visit the following day to the ruins of Teotihuacan, which dates back to as far as 100 BC. My Death Race vacation turned out to be quite the action packed weekend, complete with a stop at a major tourist site.

It felt great to go home unexpectedly clean and in one piece, though still very dehydrated, as I knew that in a few short days I was flying back out of New York for yet another 24+ hour race called The Gauntlet... created by a fellow Death Racer, who was racing by my side in Mexico.

And the pup? He was adopted by one of the staff at the compound.

rock on...

S

**Photos courtesy of Tony Matesi