When Team Guinness began we were three individuals who ran races together. In the 20-mile 'sprint' version of the adventure races, the pace was very fast and the competition was only separated by a few minutes over a 2-4 hour race. These events typically consisted of a trail running section, a mountain bike section, and a lake kayaking section. Additionally the races would organize obstacles or challenges along the way that forced the teams to deal with a situation that they probably had never encountered before. You may have to tie a special type of knot, get your team over a 12' military wall, change a bike tire, etc. Anything they could throw at you to keep you off balance. It's what made the sport so entertaining for us.
My team members each had their own strengths. Steve is a giant man of 6'4"-6'5" with amazing strength. He was not your prototypical endurance athlete but became very dedicated to training to improve his skills and began to excel at mountain biking. Dave was our running motor, he had become an elite triathlete in his own right and could out run Steve and I together. I was the problem solver, when we'd come to the various challenges I would typically take lead and often get us through the situation faster than the other teams. But we were all proud males and we wanted hold up our own end of the bargain for one another. No one wanted to admit that they might be weak. This mentality cost us in the beginning.
It was our first race as a sponsored team and we went in with sky high expectations. The race was located at Lake Castaic in Southern California (very beautiful spot) and our sponsor, who was located out of Connecticut, flew out to witness the event, take pictures, and begin making hay on the sponsorship money she took a chance on giving to us. The race turned into a huge disaster. The first major issue I remember was a flat tire that happened about half way into the mountain bike section. We were up near the lead of the race when the blowout occurred. We had the materials to change out the tire, but our teamwork was horrible. Further into the course we struggled with several of the challenges and fell further behind. The other thing that became evident during the race was our different capabilities at each discipline. Mountain bikes would move at different speeds and we all had a different per mile running pace. We wound up at the lowest common denominator. We crawled across the finish line embarrassed with no podium to our credit.
What we did learn during the event was to observe some of the successful teams. We started noticing small tricks they used that were allowed in these types of races. Namely, you were allowed to help your teammates. One of the most useful tricks was using tow ropes. By taking a long piece of shock cord you can tie the front end around one person, then clip it around someone running behind them to create a tandem tow. The same idea works on mountain bikes once you build up the skill and for the kayaks as it kept them in line and increased our draft. Now, instead of Dave jogging beside Steve and I, he could transfer energy and the group could move faster. The key however, is that the person in the back needs to acknowledge and accept the help.
As adults, we build our lives as independent people and take pride in self reliance. While we have networks of friends and colleagues that we're interdependent on, I think it's rare for people to accept help. Since I've started this cancer journey just a short time ago, I expected the support and love from my family. But now an extended network of friends and friends of friends that I don't even know are coming forward to offer help. Joanne and I continue to talk about the amazing and totally unexpected outreach that grows around us at this time. There are times when we start to feel like it's all too much, almost embarrassed. But then we realize that others have the energy and desire to share that energy with me and my family. So we will acknowledge and accept the help and will gladly strap on the tow line.
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