By Elizabeth Sugar Boese
This was my year of adventure racing!
After Nationals last year, I was so enthralled with the sport that I went all in. In 2026, I raced 10 adventure races (four solo!) and competed in more than 15 orienteering meets. Nationals would be the grand finale of my AR season.
But I wasn't even sure I wanted to race.
This year's National Championships were in Central Oregon in late October. That meant COLD. Probably wet. Possibly snow. All conditions I generally prefer to avoid!
But I decided that if I could find the right team, with the right people, I'd do it.
Finding My Team
First, I interviewed with a team I really liked. They already had two women and ultimately chose a guy instead. But I was their second choice after interviewing lots of racers, so I'll take that! And I'm glad I interviewed because now, whenever I see Chelsea, I'm going to run up and give her a giant bear hug. I love her soul-energy!
So then I wasn't going to race Nationals.
Then another woman posted that she wanted to put together a strong, all-women's mountain biking team. PERFECT! Except we couldn't find two more women to join us.
So then I wasn't going to race Nationals. Again.
And then the holy grail appeared.
Race director Jason Magness posted that a team of strong mountain bikers who described themselves as "hilarious" was looking for a strong female mountain biker.
OMG. ARE YOU SERIOUS?
That's EXACTLY ME!
I interviewed with them. They're known for being the lanterne rouge team, typically the last team to finish the full course.
Now, I couldn't guarantee I'd be able to make every checkpoint. But I'd started learning how to run in January, trained all year, and had recently managed to run nine miles at 10,000 feet of elevation.
I was viable!
And just like that, I BECAME A JACKALOPE!
Race Morning: Let the Adventure Begin!
Race morning was cold and dark. The starting gun was scheduled for 7 a.m.
I think we were the last team to make it to the starting line. Apparently, race staff kept yelling, "JACKALOPES?!"
We were, uh, just checking out the road paths to make sure we knew where to go when the gun went off.
The race began with a tiny run to our bikes, followed by 33 miles of mountain biking. Definitely more of a bike race than a typical adventure race start, which was fine by me!
We headed out on mostly gravel and dirt roads. Little rocks were flying everywhere, and unfortunately, one shot up underneath my glasses and straight into my left eye.
Now I understand why people use bike fenders!
For the next 31 hours, my left eye hurt. But you know, carry on.
(Even as I write this the Monday after the race, I still can't see out of my left eye. More on that unfortunate souvenir later.)
Epic Singletrack and a Hot Springs Surprise
Eventually, we veered onto some EPIC singletrack!
The leaves were changing colors and falling all around us. Brilliant yellows, reds, and purples. Slick roots, rocks, and absolutely awesome swoopy trails winding through the forest.
I LOVE mountain biking, so I was ridiculously happy with the beginning of this course.
And then came one of the more unusual checkpoints I've ever encountered.
We dropped our bikes and hiked up to some tiny hot springs pools overlooking the river.
The requirement? One team member had to soak in the hot springs up to their belly button for 30 seconds!
Did I mention it was about 35 degrees outside?
Naturally, about 90% of racers stripped down rather than risk getting their cycling chamois wet and then freezing for the rest of the race.
Adventure racing. Where stripping down at a checkpoint in freezing temperatures somehow makes perfect sense.
Nine Miles of Trekking
We reached TA1, dropped our bikes, and prepared for a nine-mile trek.
Before heading out, I was interviewed by Brian Gatens for The Dark Zone podcast about the amazing singletrack we'd just ridden.
So there I was, walking backward, happily rambling about how much I LOVED the riding to anyone willing to listen.
I even appeared in their TA1 media reel!
As for the nine-mile trek? I guess I did it, because we got all the checkpoints!
All that training apparently paid off. It really didn't feel that bad.
Or maybe that's just my memory playing tricks on me, because what was REALLY HARD was still to come.
We did make one small navigation error and had to backtrack to find our attack point. Once we returned to the trail, we were able to navigate successfully to the checkpoint.
And then it was time for the part of the race I'd been dreading.
Packrafting: OMG, What Have I Gotten Myself Into?
At TA2, we transitioned to our boats.
We'd practiced our transitions the day before, so everyone knew their responsibilities. But this was way more involved than anything I was used to.
First, we had to inflate our packrafts.
Then we had to stuff our gear into special dry bags that go INSIDE the inflatable tubes of the boats.
Wait. WHAT?
Our heavy gear goes inside the exact same tubes that are supposed to hold the air keeping us afloat?
How does that even work?!
Everyone else seemed to think this was perfectly normal, so I decided I'd just have to trust the process.
The Drysuit Dilemma
This was also my first time wearing a drysuit.
Instead of a traditional one-piece drysuit, I opted for separate top and bottom pieces. Full drysuits cost more than $1,000, and renting one was still $250–$300. Plus, finding one that fit my six-foot-tall frame was no easy task.
And then there was the bathroom issue.
One rental company explained that their suits only had a front relief zipper, meaning that women would need to bring some kind of funnel to pee.
Seriously?!
Where exactly am I supposed to keep my pee funnel? In the boat? Hanging off my PFD?
"Hey guys, who wants to hold my pee funnel?"
NO THANK YOU!
So I bought a dry top, figuring I'd use it in future races since my arms always get soaked anyway. Then I tried to marry the top and bottom together using the waistband from a used spray skirt.
Brilliant idea in theory.
Not so brilliant in practice.
My bare back ended up exposed along the river, water got into my pants, and I later realized I'd apparently forgotten to Velcro my top closed.
That probably didn't help.
My First Ever Packrafting Experience
We carried our boats down to the launch area.
I was NERVOUS.
I'd never packrafted before. Not once.
And now I was about to paddle through rapids approaching Class III?!
What in the world had I gotten myself into?
Cayley and Greg went ahead of us so we could follow their lead. Or, you know, avoid whatever bad decisions they might make.
Greg is an extraordinary ocean paddler, and part of me really wanted to be in his boat so he could keep me safe.
Instead, I was paired with Angermann.
Or, as I started thinking of him, the dude behind me.
We hit our first rapids.
OMG! OMG! OMG!
I was FREAKING OUT!
I tried steering, dodging rocks, avoiding waves, and generally doing everything possible not to flip or die.
Angermann, meanwhile, patiently began my on-the-job packrafting education.
Lesson number one: He would steer. My job was to paddle us forward.
I KNEW this from canoeing and kayaking!
But these rapids were terrifying, packrafting was completely new to me, and so was this dude sitting behind me!
And then, somewhere during the second set of rapids, something changed.
I had this instantaneous realization.
I could trust the dude behind me.
And that changed EVERYTHING.
Suddenly, I could stop worrying about steering and focus entirely on what I was supposed to do: strong, powerful paddle strokes to propel us forward.
Even through the hairy, eye-popping, OMG-I'M-GOING-TO-SHIT-MYSELF rapids!
Somehow, the dude Angermann kept us upright.
The. Entire. Way.
He even gave me pointers about using the correct back muscles while paddling. He kept throwing out anatomical muscle names, and I was thinking, Okay, he's probably talking about something somewhere in my upper back. I don't know anatomy.
But whatever he was teaching me, it worked!
Sleeper Rocks and an Unexpected Swim
About halfway, or maybe two-thirds, down the river, the sun started reflecting off the water at a blinding angle.
It was nearly impossible to see what was coming.
But you could always HEAR the grumble-rumble of the rapids ahead, just waiting to swallow you.
I also learned about something called sleeper rocks.
These are rocks lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to jump up and grab your boat with a sick, demonic sense of humor.
"HAHA! GOT YOU!"
Kind of like an older brother who enjoys physically tormenting his younger siblings.
Well, this time, Angermann and I watched as our teammates' boat suddenly went sideways.
And then up onto a rock.
Oh. That's not good.
And POOF!
THEY FLIPPED!
OMG!!!
OH CRAP!!!
Freaking out AGAIN! We're headed right for that same rock!!
Fortunately, they managed to get themselves back into their boat and continue.
We got beached a few times in shallow water and had several terrifying near-flips. I leaned in all sorts of ridiculous directions trying to keep us upright.
At one point, I told my teammates I wanted to skip the infamous Pinball Rapid. Typically Class IV, it was probably running closer to Class III or III+ because of the lower water flow.
I just DID NOT want to flip and get soaked.
Especially my hair.
It was around 35 degrees, and evening was approaching. Wet hair in freezing temperatures sounded miserable.
Wait. WE'RE DONE?!
Eventually, we pulled into a takeout area.
The dude Angermann and I were confused.
Why were we stopping?
Surely we'd only completed about half the river.
It was only 4:40 p.m.! We had time to finish the rest!
Then someone said:
"This is it. We're done."
WHAT?!
WE'RE DONE?!
WE MADE IT?!
I DID IT!!!!!
Wait. Did I actually do freaking PINBALL?!
OMG!
I'd just finished what I considered the scariest part of the entire race!
And not only had we survived, we'd stayed upright the whole time!
What an incredible feeling.
The Never-Ending Transition
We hauled our boats onto the rocky landing and began preparing for a half-mile portage to the gear drop-off area.
We deflated the boats, kept our drysuits partially on, and gathered all the gear that had been stuffed inside the rafts, plus our paddles.
Cayley's packraft backpack kept sliding sideways, providing comic relief and plenty of commentary from the rest of us.
The climb was steep, our wetsuit booties weren't exactly ideal hiking footwear, and carrying all that awkward gear was challenging.
But we made it.
Only to discover that we STILL had quite a few miles of trekking before reaching TA3, where our bin of fresh, dry clothing awaited us.
And, of course, more checkpoints to collect along the way.
Including steep bushwhacking.
At least all that climbing kept us warm!
Then serendipity happened. Just as we were exiting the trailhead near TA 3, 2 cars roll in and park. It was Hollis and Taylor (Greg and Cayley's squeezes)!!! What are the odds? They got lost getting to TA 3 to pick up something for somebody and happened to pull up to the trailhead exactly as we exited the trail!
TA3: The Big Decision
We reached TA3 while it was still daylight.
There, we received the maps for the remainder of the course.
Our navigator, Greg, immediately got to work plotting our routes while the rest of us attended to his needs.
Feeding him. Clothing him. Getting his bike ready.
Basically, keeping the navigator alive and happy while his brain did the hard work!
We were still hoping to clear the entire course.
Jason Magness is known for designing brutally difficult races, often with courses that are practically impossible to clear.
But at the pre-race meeting, he'd predicted that perhaps 10 teams could get every checkpoint.
And we thought, Well, if 10 teams can clear it, why can't we? We were hoping for a top 10 finish, and now that I know how to run - that should be possible.
The Jackalopes are known for being a lanterne rouge team, often the last team to finish the full course. So clearing was our goal.
In retrospect, I probably should have asked more questions about our strategy if the course turned out to be uncleareable. But based on Jason's prediction, we went all in.
We spent quite a bit of time at TA3 so Greg could plan the rest of the race carefully.
Temperatures were forecast to drop into the 20s, especially as we climbed higher into the mountains.
Standing around figuring out navigation in the middle of the freezing night sounded far less appealing than doing it now.
Before leaving, we had to demonstrate to race staff that we each carried our required cold-weather gear: an emergency blanket, waterproof shell, waterproof pants, and an insulating mid-layer.
Most of us were already wearing much of it.
And then, with our lights on and packs loaded with enough food for the rest of the race, we headed out.
Onto a bike stage with approximately 7,000 feet of climbing.
The Never-Ending Climb
And so began the never-ending steep gravel road climb.
We rode.
We walked.
We climbed.
We sweated.
We sang.
At some point, we nominated the Knights Who Say "Ni!" from Monty Python as our official mascot.
Because obviously.
After approximately a BZILLION hours of climbing, we finally reached the entrance to the infamous bike-whacking section.
If you're unfamiliar with bike-whacking, imagine bushwhacking through thick, gnarly forest.
Now imagine doing it while dragging, lifting, shoving, and carrying a mountain bike.
WHY ARE WE DOING THIS?!
There were fallen logs three feet high. Sometimes stacks of them.
Three-foot rocks to climb over or descend.
Dense branches that felt like driving through a car wash, except we were the cars and our bikes were getting caught on everything.
I wished I had some magical way to strap my bike to my back.
But honestly, I'm not sure that would have worked either.
### A Swing in the Middle of the Night!
There was one spectacular reward in the middle of all this madness.
We came upon a checkpoint with a giant swing over the river!
It was something like 4 a.m.
Naturally, the boys all wanted to try it.
Yes, we were racing. Yes, time mattered.
But sometimes you have to stop and enjoy an unexpected adventure.
I insisted that all the boys help me get onto the swing correctly and be ready to catch me at the end.
And then I SWUNG OUT OVER THE RIVER!
IN THE DARK!
It was exhilarating!
These are the moments I love most about adventure racing. When race directors incorporate unique experiences into the course, they become the memories that stay with you forever.
I'm so thankful for those little surprises.
## When the Course Fights Back
After CP21, the bike-whacking continued.
Dense bushes. Giant rocks. Fallen trees.
We were handing bikes up to each other, using our bikes almost like crutches to maneuver around obstacles, and wondering why anyone thought bicycles belonged in this terrain.
Bikes are NOT meant for this!
The Pro checkpoints around CP20, CP21, and CP22 were especially gnarly and consumed far more time than we'd anticipated.
Eventually, we had to face reality.
We weren't going to clear everything.
It was time to reevaluate our strategy.
Main checkpoints were worth five points, Pro checkpoints three, and orienteering checkpoints one point each.
We decided to skip some of the lower-value orienteering points to maximize what we could accomplish before the finish deadline.
## Frozen Ponds, Hot Cocoa, and a Nutrition Revelation
As we approached TA4/5, we knew there wouldn't be a regular water supply at the transition area.
So we searched for a pond where we could filter water.
Except the pond was FROZEN.
And disgusting-looking.
Nope. Not drinking that.
Fortunately, when we reached the TA, volunteers explained that they'd also determined the nearby ponds were a terrible water option and had decided to provide a gallon of water for each team to share.
THANK YOU!
They also offered two cups of hot cocoa and two packets of 4-Hour Fuel mash for the team.
I actually loved the mash!
Add hot water, and suddenly you've got something resembling mashed potatoes with bacon bits.
REAL FOOD!
And this was where I had one of my biggest revelations of the entire race.
I don't have my endurance nutrition figured out nearly as well as I thought I did.
I've always managed to survive races lasting around 24 hours, so I assumed I knew what I was doing.
But surviving isn't the same as staying strong.
My new teammates helped me understand that.
Cayley's precision with nutrition was impressive. And Greg practically forced me to eat, offering some of his delicious squeeze-pouch smoothie and his rather chalky banana-chocolate 4HourFuel mix that made me feel all strong again! A true test of a product 20 hours in on a grueling race, to feel the energy come back. Now I know what all the hype is about with that 4 Hour Fuel product and will start feeding them my money for all my future races.
He kept taking care of me, making sure I was getting the calories I needed.
Between Cayley's meticulous planning and Greg's insistence that I keep eating, something finally clicked.
I GET IT NOW!
And then there was the team's caffeine gum.
That was a fun little party-time experience!
## The Final Push
We still needed to collect at least one checkpoint in the final orienteering section to qualify for an official finish.
Originally, climbing Mount Bailey would have been incredible. The views from the summit would surely have been spectacular.
But time was running out.
Instead, we chose an easier one-point checkpoint.
We found it quickly!
Feeling optimistic, we went searching for another. But after checking two reentrants we finally found it, but was too slow for one point each time, we decided we'd spent enough time and moved on.
There were still points to collect!
One Last Incredible Downhill
Back on our bikes, we were rewarded with another spectacular section of downhill singletrack.
FINALLY!
After all that climbing, bike-whacking, and dragging bikes over giant logs, we got to enjoy what mountain bikes are actually FOR.
And luckily, nobody was directly in front of us slowing us down!
SO. MUCH. FUN!
Saturday was feeling considerably warmer than Friday's freezing start, and the sunshine was a welcome change.
We continued collecting checkpoints and discussing which ones were worth pursuing with our remaining time.
We managed to squeeze in one extra bike checkpoint before heading to the final packrafting section.
## One Final Paddle Across Diamond Lake
Our last stage involved packrafting across Diamond Lake to collect the remaining water checkpoints.
And naturally, there was one final complication.
We'd lost one of the boats' little fin-skeg thingies.
Without it, Angermann and I could barely steer our raft in the flat water.
Seriously?
We'd survived all those rapids without flipping, and now we couldn't steer across a LAKE?!
We tried rigging our boat to tow behind Cayley and Greg's raft.
Not exactly an elegant solution.
But adventure racing isn't about elegance. It's about figuring things out and continuing to move forward!
We managed to collect two water checkpoints.
With about 30 minutes remaining, we realized we needed to skip the final one and head directly for the finish.
We were going to make it!
And then, after 31 hours and 30 minutes, we crossed the finish line! I think we placed 13th out of 48 teams
What a Race. What a Team!
This was another game-changing adventure race for me, filled with firsts.
My first time packrafting. My first time filtering water. First time in a dry suit. My longest race ever. My first time swinging over a river in the middle of the night!
But the biggest lessons weren't just about new skills.
I learned how much stronger I can be when I trust my teammates.
How important it is to fuel properly, not just enough to survive but enough to perform.
And how incredible it feels to be part of a team where everyone brings different strengths, helps each other through the hard moments, and still finds time to laugh when things get completely ridiculous.
I started this adventure unsure whether I even wanted to race in cold, wet Oregon.
I finished having conquered terrifying rapids, dragged my bike through seemingly impassable forests, climbed through freezing temperatures, and completed the longest race of my life.
And somewhere along the way, I discovered that I was capable of more than I'd thought.
I AM A JACKALOPE!
And what an adventure it was.
