Going Solo

Finding yourself all by yourself.

I've spent 34 years believing I was living the life of an independent woman. I thought I knew what it felt like to be completely alone. To make all my own decisions and own the realities of my actions. It wasn't until this past June that I realized what being alone was really all about.

I signed up to compete in the SOLO division of the Odyssey 24-hour Adventure Race in Big Island, West Virginia. I was one of ten soloists and 40 two or four-person teams. The race included, trekking in the mountains, navigating the entire course, mountain biking, canoeing and a 650-foot zip-line across the James River. For the first time in my life, I took on this challenge alone. I would make all the calls, from plotting the coordinates on the map to finding my way through the course. Eighty miles in 24 hours, all on my own.

Like everything else, the idea of going solo was exciting in the planning stages. But as the race drew near, I couldn't stop from wondering if I had made the right decision. Was I going to make a complete fool of myself? Until this experience, I had teammates to lean on, make decisions with and of course blame.

I would spend the next 24 hours discovering who I really was. My strengths and weaknesses would soon be painfully obvious.

I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest as I carefully plotted the points on the map. I was hoping everything was accurate as this determined the racecourse.

One mistake in plotting the course and the race takes a drastic turn and I could spend countless hours searching for the checkpoint.

I felt as if I had just received my driver's license. I knew just enough to get behind the wheel and give it a shot. Hearing the starting gun go off felt very much like pulling out of my driveway at the tender age of 16 behind the wheel of something much bigger than I was. All the innocence and excitement wrapped up into one moment in time. I knew I would never be the same.

The race started with a run up a steep mountain. I had words from one of the race volunteers ringing in my head, "women don't compete solo in this event because most of them don't know how to navigate". I continued up that mountain with a pioneering spirit. One that would demonstrate that adventure racing is less about gender and more about releasing our own individual strengths.

It took a few hours to actually "be alone", but it didn't take long to make a mistake. It was after midnight and I just transitioned to the bike. I spent the next five hours paying for going against my own instincts. The course was on a horse trail. A trail that was not easily seen in the darkness of the night. I've always lived by the rule if you lose your way go back to the last familiar point and start again. Those are great words if you follow them. I soon found myself sitting on a very steep incline in the middle of the forest, lost. I couldn't go back because I had ventured too far. I calmly took out the map and checked my altimeter. Based on the terrain around me I guessed where I was and kept moving on. I climbed with my bike for hours up a steep thick grade, over boulders and through sticker bushes to finally to make it to the path at 2800 feet. I did it, I got lost and then found my way. I wouldn't have to spend the rest of my life in the mountains of West Virginia like Wolfen.

As I journeyed through the course I learned to find my way, be cautious with decisions and go with my instincts. I learned how to read the river and paddle a canoe alone. I biked for miles up and down mountains roads and trails. I flew across the James River on a zip-line.

As I crossed the finish line in just over 24 hours, it hit me like an Oprah Light bulb moment. Going solo taught me to take responsible for my actions. Good or bad, I was the one that made it happen. My life had been camouflaged with the appearance of independence. What I feared most was truly being alone and what I might find. I found a lot on that course. I was human and made mistakes. But finally, I realized the power of my independence. It wasn't about not needing people, it was more about believing in myself.

As I look forward to the next few months of racing, I know this one experience will have a profound effect on how I race with a team. I know what I bring to the team. But more importantly, it is the total sum of our strengths and the acceptance of our weaknesses that truly makes a team powerful.

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