A few weeks ago, a girl I fancy mentioned to me that she and a couple of friends were going to run an adventure race near where I live. I checked it out on the Internet, and it looked like a good way to kick-off the summer with my kid brother. So we signed up to run the race too. And we didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into…
But we were pretty confident before the race. The kid was all decked out in an adventure race backpack, cycling gloves, and our “team” shirts that read “MEXICO” on the front.
And then there was the reason why I was running this… that girl. It’s not so much that I wanted to impress her, though I am sure that had something to do with what we were about to do. It’s just that I’ve been not “living” much because of school and work. I hoped this race would wake me up again from the slumber I’ve been, physically, since the Baltimore Marathon. And it did. I felt alive.
So the race got started, and the kid and I were way behind. We had never kayaked before, so we were flipping backwards in the water, and generally slow. You’ve all read the story about the water, so I’ll spare you the details again… And then there was the climb…
(Continued on PART II)
René F. Najera, DrPH
I'm a Doctor of Public Health, having studied at the Johns Hopkins University Bloomberg School of Public Health.
All opinions are my own and in no way represent anyone else or any of the organizations for which I work.
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