- A few more hours of running and hiking and we arrived at the first real horror, a feature the map described as a “scenic side trip” dubbed “Testicle Spectacle,” allegedly named by a Barkley victim who made the sign of the cross upon first witnessing what lay ahead. We were at the top of a power line right-of-way clearing that stretched steeply down into the valley. Wasted-looking humans wearing colorful synthetic fabrics, slick with sweat, were clambering out of the void. Going down was quite challenging, with a few short nearly vertical drops and longer dirt sections that could only be navigated by butt-sliding. We struggled to the bottom, got our bibs punched at the checkpoint, and turned around to march out, climbing on hands and knees where necessary.
Badging for the picture of you and Laz, let alone the entire rest of that post. Even attempting that race is so much more than the vast majority of people attempt in their lives, really impressive and evocative read.
Thanks! I was quite timid about registering for such an intimidating challenge. What won me over was realizing that my birthday was on the same weekend, and I couldn't remember what I did for most of my previous birthdays. (To say nothing of the other 364 days.) After the first year, I swore I would never do such a thing again. It was a while before the psychic wounds scarred over and the nagging sense of "unfinished business" convinced me to sign up for another round, once more with much trepidation. I am firmly in "never again" mode now....