March 03, 2006
By Stephanie Bruce

Prudence. It might be the most underrated characteristic of an adventure racer. It’s not as lauded as perseverance, fitness, skills, or even empathy. If you were prudent, you probably wouldn’t be racing, would you?

But if you think about it, what - if not prudent - is an adventure racer? You have to carefully manage your resources, which are few during the course of the race; you must have good sense in managing practical matters like sleep and food; and on the course you are constantly evaluating situations to avoid risk - like finding the balance between running fast moving water while keeping an eye out for strainers.

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By Anna DeBattiste

Ask adventure racers why they do it, and you’re likely to get a number of predictable but meaningful responses. We do it to test the limits of our minds and bodies; we do it for the pride of accomplishment after great physical effort, pain and discomfort; we do it for the camaraderie and teamwork; we do it to see beautiful places and experience exotic cultures.

Blah, blah, blah. It’s all good stuff, and it does truly mean a lot to me. But I tend to focus on the more eccentric side of AR. I live for the random hallucination, the 3:00 am sleep-deprived and garbled comment that induces hilarity on the team, the surrealistic midnight encounters with strangers who have no idea what four dirty people with backpacks and ice axes would be doing carrying their bikes through impenetrable brush in the middle of the night on a mountain top. I love the time a teammate saw me lying on the ground with my feet up on a tree trunk and thought I was the Madonna with babe-in-arms, and the time I sang “Rubber Ducky” to stay awake until my teammates threatened to throw me out of the boat. I especially love the time during last year’s Primal Quest that I woke up, mid-sentence, in motion, to find myself asking my teammates if there would be any basketballs at the transition area. Now that’s good stuff. I feel bad for people whose entertainment comes from TV.

That doesn’t mean that Team Tango doesn’t have goals this year. We’ve added two new members since the 2004 PQ event, and I’m darned excited about both of them. With an even split between serious military types and recreational Colorado types, we should have the perfect mix of skill, experience and attitude to do our best in this race. See our profile if you want to hear more about that.

But here’s what I really want to talk about today: what a challenge it was to make that video! When the first PQ update came out, asking us to submit team videos for PR purposes, we blew it off. With the two halves of our team split up across the country, one half in Miami and the other in Colorado, I figured it was too hard and not worth the effort.

Two weeks later, we changed our minds–three days before the deadline. I drove to my new teammate Russ’s house in Steamboat Springs, Colorado during a major snowstorm, taking three hours to make an hour and a half drive. The plan was to film the two of us, overnight the tape to Miami so our teammates could add their piece, and hope they could overnight the tape again in time to make the deadline on Wednesday. A risky proposition, given that Fed-ex doesn’t do overnight from the mountains of Colorado.

“I wrote a script!” Russ announced as I walked through the door.

“Really?” I asked, incredulous. I hadn’t even thought about what to say. Somehow, I thought it would just happen.

Russ’s wife Clay, a woman nearly as funny as Russ himself, walked into the kitchen and slapped a bottle of wine on the counter. Chardonnay, my favorite. “You’ll need to start drinking right now,” she advised me. “I’ll be in the living room getting the video camera set up.”

Thank god for Clay. Russ and I watched from the couch, stupefied, drinking, as she navigated the wilderness of video camera technology. We tried to practice a couple of times. When I had a few glasses of wine down the gullet, I decided I was now brilliant enough to come up with a theme.

“So!” I said. “I’ll give a serious introduction to the team and our background, and you can break in every couple seconds or so with a funny one-liner. What do you think?”

Russ nodded. “That’ll work,” he said. “But I’m not sure how funny I can be on cue.”

“Nonsense,” I sputtered. “You’re always funny.”

I had paced Russ in the Leadville 100 last year, and I knew this to be true. Seventy miles into the race, utterly spent, dry heaving and staggering and incoherent, Russ had still managed to crack me up with a running litany of jokes and one-liners. I had delivered him to his next pacer in a state of hilarity, despite the freezing temperatures and the fact that it was 3:00 am.

But alas, it was true. In front of a camera, trying to be funny on cue, Russ was about as funny as I am. Which is to say, about as funny as a turd in a punchbowl. Clay watched, worry lines furrowing her brow as we did take after take. Each one got harder, more stilted, less entertaining. Finally, we threw up our hands and delivered the tape to Clay for transfer to the Miami half of the team.

We did have one or two good moments. As I described our teammates, Luther and Blain, one an Infantry Officer with a Special Operations background and the other a Special Forces Officer, Russ broke in, “and I’m just kind of your basic ‘special’, myself.” We can’t tell you if our Miami teammates have redeemed us because we haven’t seen the rest of the tape yet.

Next year, if someone wants to lend us a couple thousand dollars, we’ll hire a media company to do a proper job.

One more thing. In case you haven’t read our team profile yet, it’s important for you to know that “Tango” is not some team name that I thought was cute. Tango is my best friend, a 15-year-old dog who has been with me her entire life. I thought it important to report this fact before our team name potentially changes due to sponsorship. If Tango had any money, she would make sure she got to keep the lead spot on the team name. Right now, however, she’s mainly focused on keeping control of her bowels and getting me to feed her dinner early.

Tune in next time to hear about the results of Team Tango’s efforts to pursue sponsorship.

December 13, 2005
By Anna DeBattiste

Ask adventure racers why they do it, and you’re likely to get a number of predictable but meaningful responses. We do it to test the limits of our minds and bodies; we do it for the pride of accomplishment after great physical effort, pain and discomfort; we do it for the camaraderie and teamwork; we do it to see beautiful places and experience exotic cultures.

Blah, blah, blah. It’s all good stuff, and it does truly mean a lot to me. But I tend to focus on the more eccentric side of AR. I live for the random hallucination, the 3:00 am sleep-deprived and garbled comment that induces hilarity on the team, the surrealistic midnight encounters with strangers who have no idea what four dirty people with backpacks and ice axes would be doing carrying their bikes through impenetrable brush in the middle of the night on a mountain top. I love the time a teammate saw me lying on the ground with my feet up on a tree trunk and thought I was the Madonna with babe-in-arms, and the time I sang “Rubber Ducky” to stay awake until my teammates threatened to throw me out of the boat. I especially love the time during last year’s Primal Quest that I woke up, mid-sentence, in motion, to find myself asking my teammates if there would be any basketballs at the transition area. Now that’s good stuff. I feel bad for people whose entertainment comes from TV.

That doesn’t mean that Team Tango doesn’t have goals this year. We’ve added two new members since the 2004 PQ event, and I’m darned excited about both of them. With an even split between serious military types and recreational Colorado types, we should have the perfect mix of skill, experience and attitude to do our best in this race. See our profile if you want to hear more about that.

But here’s what I really want to talk about today: what a challenge it was to make that video! When the first PQ update came out, asking us to submit team videos for PR purposes, we blew it off. With the two halves of our team split up across the country, one half in Miami and the other in Colorado, I figured it was too hard and not worth the effort.

Two weeks later, we changed our minds–three days before the deadline. I drove to my new teammate Russ’s house in Steamboat Springs, Colorado during a major snowstorm, taking three hours to make an hour and a half drive. The plan was to film the two of us, overnight the tape to Miami so our teammates could add their piece, and hope they could overnight the tape again in time to make the deadline on Wednesday. A risky proposition, given that Fed-ex doesn’t do overnight from the mountains of Colorado.

“I wrote a script!” Russ announced as I walked through the door.

“Really?” I asked, incredulous. I hadn’t even thought about what to say. Somehow, I thought it would just happen.

Russ’s wife Clay, a woman nearly as funny as Russ himself, walked into the kitchen and slapped a bottle of wine on the counter. Chardonnay, my favorite. “You’ll need to start drinking right now,” she advised me. “I’ll be in the living room getting the video camera set up.”

Thank god for Clay. Russ and I watched from the couch, stupefied, drinking, as she navigated the wilderness of video camera technology. We tried to practice a couple of times. When I had a few glasses of wine down the gullet, I decided I was now brilliant enough to come up with a theme.

“So!” I said. “I’ll give a serious introduction to the team and our background, and you can break in every couple seconds or so with a funny one-liner. What do you think?”

Russ nodded. “That’ll work,” he said. “But I’m not sure how funny I can be on cue.”

“Nonsense,” I sputtered. “You’re always funny.”

I had paced Russ in the Leadville 100 last year, and I knew this to be true. Seventy miles into the race, utterly spent, dry heaving and staggering and incoherent, Russ had still managed to crack me up with a running litany of jokes and one-liners. I had delivered him to his next pacer in a state of hilarity, despite the freezing temperatures and the fact that it was 3:00 am.

But alas, it was true. In front of a camera, trying to be funny on cue, Russ was about as funny as I am. Which is to say, about as funny as a turd in a punchbowl. Clay watched, worry lines furrowing her brow as we did take after take. Each one got harder, more stilted, less entertaining. Finally, we threw up our hands and delivered the tape to Clay for transfer to the Miami half of the team.

We did have one or two good moments. As I described our teammates, Luther and Blain, one an Infantry Officer with a Special Operations background and the other a Special Forces Officer, Russ broke in, “and I’m just kind of your basic ‘special’, myself.” We can’t tell you if our Miami teammates have redeemed us because we haven’t seen the rest of the tape yet.

Next year, if someone wants to lend us a couple thousand dollars, we’ll hire a media company to do a proper job.

One more thing. In case you haven’t read our team profile yet, it’s important for you to know that “Tango” is not some team name that I thought was cute. Tango is my best friend, a 15-year-old dog who has been with me her entire life. I thought it important to report this fact before our team name potentially changes due to sponsorship. If Tango had any money, she would make sure she got to keep the lead spot on the team name. Right now, however, she’s mainly focused on keeping control of her bowels and getting me to feed her dinner early.

Tune in next time to hear about the results of Team Tango’s efforts to pursue sponsorship.

By Brock Foreman

December 12, 2005

All adventure racers share a gritty determination, and you can hear this determination in the voice of Mary “Mash” Glanville, team captain for Dancing Panda. “If we have to crawl across the finish line, we’ll finish the race” says Glanville, 42, as she recounts the time when she and her teammates heroically carried one of their own across the finish line. Glanville recalls another race where she suffered her own bruises and a nearly debilitating pulled tendon in her leg. Despite the injuries, Glanville continued to push herself and help her teammates achieve a top finish. In another supremely inspired - albeit vastly more comical – effort, Glanville once trekked through the night without pants after a punishing bike ride left her cringing with first degree saddle soreness.

Some say that endurance athletes like Glanville – those willing to run through the pain, push past the point of exhaustion, and, say, hike through the woods without clothes – are often running from something deep inside. The motivation usually stems from some pivotal life experience. In fact, there are many stories of people turning “Forrest Gump” after they lose a job or a loved one. In his recent biography, “Ultramarathon Man,” Dean Karnazes explains how the death of his sister compounded his mid-life crisis and fueled his unparalleled ultra-running binge. Similarly, Glanville’s childhood might explain her proclivity for long-distance racing, a bug which bit her after a friend convinced her to enter a mountain bike race in 1999.

Glanville was born in Soviet Russia where her father had been confined to a concentration camp. Eventually, her family was forced to flee west, and, as refugees, she and her family arrived in Toronto in the early 1970s. It is plausible that the adversity of being uprooted from her home and raised in an unfamiliar country shaped and hardened Glanville and gave her the courageous heart of an adventure racer, not to mention the drive to succeed as a busy executive in a biotechnology company. Certainly the Forrest Gump – Dean Karnazes theory of psychology explains why Glanville might be drawn to a sport like adventure racing and Primal Quest.

Of course, Glanville might just like adventure racing because it is, well, fun. This is more likely the case, especially considering Glanville’s light-hearted attitude and complete lack of angst. Do not forget, her team’s name is “Dancing Pandas,” an esoteric reference to an old Kit Kat candy bar commercial featuring two playful Pandas.

“You’ll never hear a team laugh harder. We never stop laughing even when it’s tough…we’re out to have a good time,” says Glanville as she describes her team’s smiles-will-get-you-miles philosophy. She adds: “During the race you’re going to see ugliness in yourself. When you’re in extreme stress, your true self comes out, and I know people who race once and they never want to see that side of themselves again. As long as someone can laugh at themselves, and really want it, they can do it!”

Glanville is clearly in it for the camaraderie she shares with her teammates. She loves it when they share funny stories during the race. The team often revisits the time Glanville’s husband of 18 years and team co-founder, Rob Glanville, 40, was searching for a checkpoint and, in a fit of sheer terror, came bounding out of the woods with a bear at his heels.

Along with laughter, Glanville says music is a key ingredient in the team’s race strategy. Music is their caffeine, it keeps them awake at night during the race. Like most teams, her team constantly looks for more ways to shed ounces from their gear. However, they will never part with their 375 gram MP3 player and mini-speakers. “We’re working on a new play list for PQ,” says Glanville. The team favors newer bands like Spoon, The Killers, and Franz Ferdinand. And when the going gets really tough? “We play a lot of crap from the ‘80’s.” Glanville chuckles, adding that blasting Depeche Mode will probably help the team avoid future bear attacks.

Glanville and her husband reside in San Diego and have raced together since 2000. New to the team this year are the couple’s good friends Eric Ervin, 30, and Mike Bell, 35, also from San Diego. Glanville says everyone on the team has day jobs as well as very understanding families that thankfully allow them to pursue their passion.

Glanville feels that despite her dubious ropes skills and her husband’s uncontrollable horse allergy, her team’s skills are well-suited for longer, expedition-length racing. While they realize they are not in contention to finish near the top, they aim to finish the full 800Km+ Primal Quest – no small feat of endurance and teamwork. Her team looks forward to training their muscles for their first PQ…and for the strenuous laughter and dancing that always accompanies them on their races.

In which Tom terrorizes a rural Canadian town and gets dragged through the mud. December 01, 2005
By Tom Jarecki

Crazy adventure racers - I mean completely normal adventure racers who appear to be crazy to everyone else - seem to be part of a pretty out-there athletic culture, don’t you think? There’s no TV following us, local papers are more interested in Little League and pro sports, and most people don’t even know what you’re talking about. These thoughts ran through my head as I woke up at 1:30 am last Saturday morning, the first link of a relatively complex logistical chain of preparation and travel that would see me on the water with my team mates at 5:30 am on the far side of the city for a paddle followed by a run. My work mates think I’m nuts to want to do this sort of thing (don’t you know there’s the Western Conference CFL finals that you’re going to miss?), my boss appreciates my passion for the sport as long as I still show interest in my work, and my wife only smiles at me while telling me to have fun and not to wake her up to say bye.

The silly time was the result of going to bed at my normal time (the price of being a middle-aged working stiff with a family, unlike my hotshot team mates), not wanting to use my family’s one car (to maximize the training effect, and to leave the car for my wife to use ferrying our kids to soccer games, a birthday party, and Home Depot) and not feeling like riding an extra 60 km to get to a bridge on top of the 60 km I was already committing to in riding from Ladner to Deep Cove. The last bus north-bound through the George Massey tunnel under the Fraser River, which cuts Ladner off from the rest of the Greater Vancouver area and is a no-go zone for cyclists, was leaving at 2:10 am and was my only chance if I was going to get to Deep Cove by our 5:00 am meeting time.

I arrived in Deep Cove at 4:00 am - I tend to ride hard when it’s colder than anticipated and I’m underdressed - and my first thought was, ‘Super, I can have a sleep for an hour until the rest of them get here’. It was nice and grassy, I could get under a shrub to get out of the dew dropped from the thick fog, and I had my first aid kit with me and it usually contains my space blanket. Not today, aargh! OK, I’m a tough adventure racer, so I put on all my clothes (unfortunately, that only meant a buff headband, a polartec vest, and goretex pants and jacket), ate some food to warm up, placed my pack and pfd underneath to get off the cold, wet ground, and tried to get to sleep. No way. By the time 20 minutes had gone by, after what had felt like several hours, I was shivering constantly and feeling pretty miserable.

Oh well. I got up and decided to do some power walking to warm up. The local Princeton Tec distributor had given me a bunch of Apex and Eos lights for the team so I played with them as I walked along in the fog. You can get some pretty cool effects shining spot lights through heavy fog at reflective surfaces like stop signs and store windows at 4:30 in the morning, but be prepared to have the police drive up and ask you what you’re doing. Luckily Deep Cove is a small and isolated suburb far from the big, bad city so they were very polite and believed me once I pointed out my bike with paddle attached. My biggest let down while waiting for my team was seeing a bakery-café with its lights on - YES, hot drinks and pastries. I ran up to the door, which was open, only to be told by the rather grumpy baker who was having a break that they wouldn’t open until 6:00 am and that there was no way he could get anything for me. Darn, back to cold water and cold granola bars.

Aimee, I mean Betty [Crocker], arrived with her roommate Robin and a Tupperware container full of muffins and cookies bang on 5:00 am. Robin works for Deep Cove Canoe & Kayak and opened up the office for us. Ah, warmth and cookies - life is good again. Gary Robbins (29 - birthday boy!!) and his girlfriend Donna arrived from Squamish shortly after 5:00 and Mark Fearman (26) arrived a few minutes later from Whistler, with one of our official alternates, Daniel Havens (49), who also lives in Whistler. OK, our team’s complete, though we were missing our other alternate, John Barron (38) from Duncan, who was stuck on Vancouver Island babysitting his dog. No worries, we’ll catch him next time.

What makes adventure racing great are your team mates, or rather my team mates (well, likely yours too). Picture a cold, foggy, very dark, wet and generally unpleasant and stupidly early morning in early winter. Add the prospect of 5 or 6 hours of hard physical effort before most people have even finished their weekend breakfasts. Unlike the rest of the world, all five of us are wide awake and telling stories and jokes, laughing and having fun, and simply enjoying being together doing stuff that we all love. Our team name, MindOverMountain.com, really does express the joy we share for being out and about in the world and everyone’s cheerfulness expressed this joy way out loud. Thank you all for your friendship and commitment to our team.

Our paddle was a blast on flat calm water with fog so thick you could barely see the other boats. We were moving pretty quickly and it was all I could do in the single to keep up with the 2 doubles - generally playing bump the rudder and trying to stay in the draft of one boat or the other. After a couple of hours and a muted sunrise we arrived back at the beach and the welcome site of Robin with an armful of coffee. I don’t even like coffee, but man, did it go down sweet. Feeling fully human again we joined the group of Club Fat Assers (www.clubfatass.com) for a scheduled 20 km trail run. Now this is the life, when you’re part of the warmth of a community celebrating the same love of sweat-equity sports in the outdoors.

The only problem with the run, which by the way was an awesome meander on the biking trails of lower Mt Seymour (yes, part of the infamous North Shore that our spindly little cross-country adventure racing bikes don’t even dare look at let alone ride - what, you mean you RIDE your bike UP the hill and walk the drops? - how old school). The problem was that I had a 25 pound load to simulate my PQ pack and I though the rest of the team knew the plan and would follow suit. Nope. So instead of a relaxed base phase training run I had a fartlek style run right on my anaerobic threshold for over 2 hours. Oh well, it gave me an excuse to clip on the tow and give Gary more of a workout - just remember to go on the same side of every tree or you’re in for a surprise. Technical down hills with slippery logs, rocks and mud on the free-riding trails are even more exciting when on tow - just imagine tap dancing down a sketchy descent and getting tugged forward by the tow at just the right (err, wrong) moment. Yes, the view sure is cool from down here in the mud, thanks for asking.

The best part of an early morning workout is the day-long endorphin rush and getting home just in time to join the kids in bed for their after lunch nap time. Well, both good and bad - they are so nice and warm but they also love to wrestle and have figured out that if they jump on a half-asleep dad knees-first he yells louder. That’s OK; I’m a tough adventure racer and can handle it. And just wait until they experience the snowshoe race we’re going to do together next month - heh, heh.

It’s been a good couple of weeks for our team training and race preparations (only SEVEN months to go - gulp) and we’d like to thank our sponsors for their support: Deep Cove Canoe & Kayak, Experience Cycling, Fuel Belt, and Princeton Tec.

LLTNT,

Tom Jarecki
Team MindOverMountain.com

By Peter Berridge

November 29, 2005

In previous Primal Quests, support crews served a critical function to every team, especially the elite squads whose crews operated with the efficiency of NASCAR pit mechanics. They fed, bathed and dressed their adventurers, and even played a role in plotting their travel.

All that is about to change for PQ 2006. No longer will racers be able to arrive at transition areas to find hot noodles and heapings of TLC from their support crew awaiting them. No more comfy RV’s and deluxe shelter - only their expedition racing gear boxes and the never-ending support of race management. This is true old school expedition racing.

As veteran racer Robyn Benincasa puts it, the unsupported format means “No warm people and no warm food waiting for you.” In some respects, this will diminish the morale boost that TAs usually provide.

“There is an incredible sense of community in supported racing,” explains Jim Garfield, the first U.S. athlete to be awarded a coveted Red Bull sponsorship and a competitor in Raid Gauloises stretching back to 1994. “A TA is like a combination of Woodstock, Cirque de Soleil and M.A.S.H.”

But PQ CEO Rich Brazeau believes the change will help level the playing field and reduce the overall cost for teams, especially those traveling from abroad. “Our folks will provide plenty of encouragement and support, but the teams will need to operate just as efficiently and cohesively in TA’s as they do on the course. The race can be won or lost in the TA’s” states Brazeau.

One thing is for sure, the unsupported format will certainly take teams back to the roots of adventure racing and to what it truly means to be on an expedition. Teams (and the actual transition areas) will be much more isolated than in years past, and with the added responsibility of self-sufficiency, greater time will be spent at any given TA. Simple things like drying off, warming up, eating and packing will chip away at time that could otherwise be spent resting mind and body. Even tireless diligence won’t heat the soup and pasta before you arrive, and most teams may not eat well as well, or as much, as they would have with support crews. More challenging yet will be the continuous exposure to the elements, a factor as unpredictable as the weather the mountain states are known for.

Beyond the tactical considerations, the mental aspect of racing alone but for your teammates will be paramount.

“It will be much more grueling; it’s where your mental toughness will prevail,” explains Robert Beauchamp, captain for Team BMC Racing. Beauchamp and many others speak from firsthand expedition experience and know what it is like to take on an expedition-length race with and without support crews.

AR legend Billy Mattison, captain of Team GoLite/Timberland, adds, “It makes you think more and it even makes pre-race more tiring. It favors teams that have been in the sport for a while.”

As the days wear on in this grueling race, AR newcomers may find themselves at a decided disadvantage if not properly prepared to deal with the struggle to meet cutoffs and finish the race. Mattison recalls this struggle, the transformation from team effort to individual survival, during one of his first victories at a major expedition race, Eco-Challenge Morroco in 1998. “It was almost like a bad dream. We were in first place but moving in slow motion. We couldn’t remember names; it was almost like every man for himself at the end. We pushed sleep deprivation to the limits. I’ve never been to that point since.”

Mattison and other veterans hope to use their experience as an advantage versus many of the younger, faster teams.

Collectively, most racers agree that going the unsupported route is a dose of good medicine for the sport – a bit of preventative medicine so that adventure racing does not become classified as a glorified off-road triathlon.

For this edition of Primal Quest racers must look no further than their teammates and expect nothing more than what they have provided for themselves ahead of time – the barest of essentials on an epic journey through the Mountain States Region of North America.

We are thrilled to be one of 4 Canadian teams heading for the 2006 Primal Quest. We live and play in God’s country (the Lower Mainland of British Columbia) and with a variety of athletic backgrounds and a few proven adventure racing performances we take no shame in calling ourselves weekend warriors.

November 18, 2005

As ambassadors for our sponsors and partners we bring our love for the outdoors, competitive dedication to our chosen sport, loyalty to our team, and active community involvement as race volunteers and training clinic leaders. We are all dedicated supporters of grassroots outdoor sports organizations - that is where we all started, and not all that long ago. We race and play hard and love to share our love of the outdoors with everyone else.

We came together this summer due to our matching competitive backgrounds, our shared enthusiasm for adventure racing and particularly in our similar motivations and outstanding desires to compete in the Primal Quest. We’ve all competed together or against each other for the past couple of years and have built an awesome team.

Tom Jarecki brought a background in ocean yacht racing, mountaineering and orienteering to adventure racing in 1999 and has never looked back. As navigator Tom has won or finished in the top 3 in many sprint and 36 hour races and added a 24^th place finish (of 42 teams that started) in the 2004 Adventure Racing World Championship Race. The Primal Quest promises to be a classic expedition race and is the perfect venue to embrace his desire to challenge his physical and mental limits. It’s all about sweat-equity, which makes a nice change from his daytime job as a software program manager.

The funny thing was that Tom was tentatively planning to enter the Raid the North Extreme race when it finally comes to the West Coast in 2006 or 2007 but no other races in the next couple of years, but when he heard that Primal Quest was coming back in 2006 and had hired Don Mann and John Howard he was hooked. Since it began Primal Quest has promised a classic expedition race and now it had backed up the promise with one of the best course directors and teamed him with one of the best of the old-school expedition racers. This race promises to be the best in a long, long time - A TOTALLY EPIC ADVENTURE. That’s what Tom’s in for.

Aimee Dunn is a former national championship-winning soccer player (and team captain) and competitive triathlete and is involved in recreational event management and activity leadership. Aimee started adventure racing 5 years ago and has competed in a variety of trail running, mountain biking, kayaking, orienteering, adventure and expedition style races. This sport has provided her with opportunities to race as both an individual and as a team member; requiring a high level of dedication and passion for the dynamic nature of competing in the wilderness terrain. On joining the team Aimee had this to say: ‘PRIMAL EXCITEMENT! I am so extremely excited about this opportunity to race with you all (words can’t describe!). Once again, I am so excited about this opportunity…WOW!’ Yup, it’s going to be good to have Aimee with us.

Mark Searman grew up playing team sports such as lacrosse and football, but soon became interested in competitive cross-country running, mountain biking and trail running. Over the past two years he has competed with top 3 results and progressed from 6-8 hour sprint races to the 36 hour Raid the North adventure race. Similarly he has progressed from half marathon competitions to ultra-marathons and is eager to continue to push his limits. If you ask anyone who knows Mark they will tell you he is an enthusiastic, funny, easy going, active twenty-something year old, who loves the outdoors. Hah, don’t be fooled. This guy is the fiercest competitor ever and since he met Gary four years ago the two have been the super-twosome, pushing each other out of bed and into the mountains for epic trail runs and scrambles. Mark is one of the most passionate outdoorsmen around and the team is lucky to have him.

Gary Robbins is a highly competitive adventure racer and ultra runner and is looking forward to doing the same on an international level in the coming years. He may not have taken a direct route into racing (pipe fitter on the North Eastern BC oil patch? commercial dive master? bell man?), but since learning of adventure racing in 1998 he always knew that he would do it, and has always had the confidence that he would do well with it when the time arrived. And he sure has with top finishes in numerous Canadian adventure racing and ultra running races in the last two years. Primal Quest is the next step and the culmination of a long-held dream to race in an epic adventure race.

Gary is highly involved in the local community through organizing trail races and running clinics and seems to have a talent for getting into the various forms of media. Gary had this to say when Tom contacted him about racing the Primal Quest together: ‘YEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!! I AM SOOOO IN, SO FREAKIN IN!!!!! It is like a dream of mine to do that! I regularly go to their website just to watch the trailers for it! HOLY CRAP - I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS!!!!!!!!! This is the ANSWER TO MY DREAMS!!!!! Watch out - he’s this excited in real life too.

Our Race Results 2005

• Raid the North Nelson 36 Hour, August 19/21 - 10^th team of 4 co-ed (TJ, GR, MF)
• Sea2Summit North American Stage Race Championships, September 10/11 - 11^th solo male (GR), 5^th team of 2 male (TJ)
• Mind Over Mountain Series Final, October 1^st - 2^nd team of 4 coed (AD)
• Mind Over Mountain Sechelt, July 16 - 3^rd team of 2 co-ed (AD)
• Mind Over Mountain Ucluelet, May 14- 2^nd team of 2 male (TJ)
• Mind Over Mountain Duncan, March 26 - 1^st team of 2 male (TJ), 2^nd team of 2 male (GR, MF)

Our Race Results 2004

• Adventure Racing World Championship Race, August 2-8 - 24^th (TJ)
• Raid the North 36 Hour Vernon, August 20/22 - 2^nd team of 4 co-ed (AD)
• Full Moon in June 36 Hour, June 25/27 - 3^rd team of 4 co-ed (TJ)
• West Coast 24 Hour Adventure Race, May 15/16 - 1^st team of 4 coed (TJ)
• Mind Over Mountain Ladysmith, July 24 - 3^rd team of 2 male (GR, MF)
• Mind Over Mountain Sechelt, June 12 - 2^nd team of 2 male (GR, MF)
• 2004 Iron Lung Trail Running Series Male Under 30 Champion (GR)

You can probably count the number of American adventure racing teams that have recorded top-10 finishes on foreign soil on one hand. November 18, 2005

By Brian Metzler

You can probably count the number of American adventure racing teams that have recorded top-10 finishes on foreign soil on one hand.

Obviously, a few big names of the sport come to mind: Nike/Balance Bar, GoLite/Timberland and the team formerly known as Montrail.

But what about Team Nomad? Despite a seventh-place finish at Explore Sweden (2005) and an eighth-place showing at the Southern Traverse (2003), not to mention numerous top-10 efforts in the U.S. and Canada, this unique foursome from the U.S. has gained little fanfare. That’s just fine with them. For this group of Nomads, it’s all about the adventure.

“All of us race because we really like to be outside and have fun with our friends,” says team member Grant Sisler. “We can’t afford to do a lot of races, so we pick one big one a year. Our goals are different than a lot of the other top teams, yet we always seem to do well. It’s not about winning; it’s about going to great places, meeting great people and having a great time.”

Captain Scott Berk founded Team Nomad in 1999 and raced in the Southern Traverse with Steve Putnam, Lori Du Paul, and Bruce Genereaux (who later chronicled the experience in his adventure book “Beyond the Comfort Zone”). The team’s makeup has shifted through the years, but it is still driven by a common love for the outdoors, friendly camaraderie and the fun and growth gained from the sport.

True to their name, the primary team members are spread around the country. Among those who have raced with the team in the last two years include Sisler (San Francisico, California), Berk (Maine), Scott Cole (an American living in Sweden), Jason Shibata (Colorado Springs), Cary Kinross-Wright (Golden, Colorado) and Megan Gridley (San Francisco, California).

It is Berk’s fun-loving, adventure-seeking, nomadic lifestyle that has set the tone for the team. Although he currently runs Nomad Properties (a property management company), and is creating a café called Nomad Café near his home in Maine, the team’s ace navigator has lived all over the place.

He was born in El Dorado, Arkansas, but was raised in North Africa and various places around Europe. He’s also lived in Colorado and Massachusetts in the U.S. As a jackeroo (cowboy) on a cattle station in Queensland in the mid-1990s, he followed a path similar to the lead character in “The Man From Snowy River” by climbing Mount Kosciuszko.

Berk has extensive experience in climbing, skiing, paragliding, surfing and mountaineering. While in Colorado in 1994, he became the first person to fly a non-competition paraglider from Mt. Zion in Golden, Colorado, to the north side of Boulder, 28 miles away.

In 1999, he had made the mistake of making Southern Traverse his very first adventure race. Almost predictably, it ended on a sour note as his team, called Team Nomad, dropped near the end of the first day.

“I thought it would be fun to try a big race,” Berk recalls. “In hindsight, it was not the best way to get into the sport.”

Wiser from the experience, Berk spent the next couple of years getting more race experience and improving his skills and fitness level. He met Sisler and Cole at a race in Utah and soon Team Nomad was reborn. After a strong season of racing in 2002, the trio decided it was time to try a big race. They were the first team to email their entry to Southern Traverse race director Geoff Hunt, who allowed them to wear race bib Number 1 in 2003.

Their eighth-place finish in New Zealand ranks as one of their favorite moments and solidified their passion for the sport and to continue racing together. They’re looking forward to their first Primal Quest as a unit.

“Racing makes everything else so much easier,” Sisler says. “You push your body so far, and you go through so much in a race that life in general just seems easier. Traffic, work, little things that get most people riled up, are nothing compared to falling out of a kayak into 35-degree water at 2 a.m. in Sweden after only sleeping for a couple of hours the previous two days!”