Yup...that's my one word summary of the Mt Taylor Quad...BRUTAL.

Leg 1: Bike 13 miles, climb 1800 ft. Yeah...someone told me this was somewhat rolling. Yup, they were full of crap. It's pretty all climbing. I'm a terrible climber and I'm still carrying winter weight, so this was a pretty slow miserable ride. I can see Mt. Taylor looming in the distance. I keep reminding myself as I wish the transition were just around the next corner, that the alternative to biking is running, skiing or shoeing. So, I suppose it's best that we bike as far as we can.

T1: Transitions become the best part of the race. The volunteers are the greatest people ever. They're waiting for you with your bag open, run shoes ready to go, trying to feed you anything you have in your bag to eat, etc.

Leg 2: Run 5 miles, climb 1200 ft. Ok...they call it a "run", but the rules say that you can run, walk or crawl. I think I was somewhere between walking and crawling. I kept trying to run, but quickly realized that the energy spent vs speed gain ratio was much better if I picked up the pace walking than trying to run this part. (bit of background info: Soloist start 1 hour before the teams start and the race is mostly teams). About 3 miles into the run the first relay guy blows past me, noting the above info, they've already gained an hour on me. The second mental blow comes about 500 yds to the end of the run, when the lead soloist is on his way down. Yes, that means he's already skiied and shoed up the mountain and back.

T2: Again, the greatest volunteers on earth. They have my skiis and ski boots all layed out for me. Digging in my bag for me...what else do I need, food, water, whatever. Skis on, snowshoes strapped to back, here we go again.

Leg 3: Ski ~2 miles, and another 1200 ft climb. Note: with 1200 ft of climbing, you're not really skiing. You put skins on the bottom of your skiis and they become awkward snowshoes. One foot in front of the other and up you go. Started to get a second wind here. Figured out how to ski and eat a hammer bar at the same time. At bit frustrated at times when it flattened out a bit, because my skins wouldn't glide forward so I was still walking in sections I should've been able to ski otherwise. About half way through the ski I really started to lose it. My eyes were really heavy and I had a hard time keeping them open. I'm sure I don't remember most of the course. Well, ok, I most definately remember the huge hill at the end of the ski. No idea what grade it was...definately no idea how people w/o skins got up it.

T3: So by now I was prepared and looking forward to having really nice volunteers to take care of me. Unfortunately not the case. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that the transition was inadequate, it just was a dissappointment compared to the previous two. The volunteers were preoccupied with keeping relay handoffs in sync. I kept asking them where I was supposed to leave my skis and they kept pointing to this cluster of equipment. I could find number clumps, but not mine. Finally, I figured it out. No benches to sit down and change from ski boots to snowshoe footwear. So here I am pretty much delirious trying to balance and change foot gear. I have no idea how long that took me. Oh yeah, still need to get the skins off of the skis, so I can ski down.

Leg 4: ~ 1 miles of shoeing and 600ft to go. This is one of the few legs that actually has an aid station along the way. They offered water and a full bar. As tempting as it was, I figured I'm already hurting as it was, I really didn't need to put tequilla in the system. One foot in front of the other I finally make it to the top of the mountain. Wahoo...kinda...I'M ONLY HALF WAY DONE!

Leg 5: stumble down with snowshoes. Again, I passed on liquor at the aid station.

T3 revisited: Again no help, attached snowshoes to my back pack, attach skis to feet and down the hill I go.

Leg 6: Ski down and hopefully nobody dies in the process. This should be the fun part, but my legs are pretty much detached from my body. I really don't want to fall, because that would mean the cleats from my snowshoes puncturing my butt. Somehow I make it to the bottom with frequent stops and only once out loud asking my skis to "please stop".

T2 revisited: Yeah, back to really super nice people. They take off my skis and boots for me, dig my running shoes out of my bag, feed me, water me, etc.

Leg 7: Run, walk or crawl down to the bike transition. I actually managed this thing called a slow pathetic jog. By this point in the race, it's getting pretty lonely out there for us slow people. I had a couple of buses taking down the relay participants chear for me. That helped out quite a bit. There was an aid station on the run up, but apparently it had closed by the time I came down. There was a forest service truck there that told me I "only" had two miles to go. I really don't remember there being a downhill portion of the run on the way up, but apparently there was an uphill on the way down. Uhg...legs pretty much came to a halt when they saw that.

T1 revisited: I'm ammused at this point that they bother to ask what my number is...it's pretty much the only bike left on the rack. Again, the super nice volunteers, help me change shoes, feed me, etc and send me on my merry way.

Leg 8: Yes, this is the best leg of all! Dang near all downhill on the bike. You just need to stay alert enough to make the switchbacks and the corners. There's one small uphill, but I knew it was the only one so it was all good. Finally I get into town...cross the finish line and look at my watch...darn near 5pm. Yes, that means it took me darn near 8 hrs to complete this thing.

Far and away the hardest thing I've ever done. Not to mention I was functioning on pretty mediocre base training. I don't recomend that :)