At the end of the race, we were sprinting back to the finish line, trying not to be late. My daughter kept asking us why we needed to run. Then suddenly, once she saw the finish gate, she dashed ahead of us by herself, full of energy. My husband and I just stared at each other, wondering where this energy came from.
We still missed one checkpoint.
But for the first time ever, clearing an adventure race course felt possible.
This was our most successful race.
We signed up for the 2026 Rib Mountain Adventure Race during early registration without much hesitation. This race has become our family tradition. But back in February, we honestly did not know what our bike situation would even look like.
My husband can no longer tow our daughter comfortably in a bike trailer. At the same time, our daughter still could not confidently ride a bike on her own. During winter, I found a tandem bike attachment on Facebook Marketplace, a CoPilot trailer bike that could connect behind my husband’s bike. At least we had a backup plan.
As spring came, we started practicing more on warm March and April days. Our daughter tried riding her own two-wheel bike, but hills were still difficult. Once she stopped on an uphill, she would lose balance, and it became a stop-and-go struggle. We practiced the tandem multiple times and eventually did a seven-mile ride together. That ride convinced us the tandem setup was doable.
As race day got closer, we made the decision to fully commit to the tandem bike. Looking back now, I am very glad we did.
This year was also different logistically. Last year we drove up Friday and stayed two nights. This year my husband has limited PTO, so we did not want to take Friday off. Since Stevens Point is only about two and a half hours away, we decided to drive up the morning of the race and stay overnight afterward instead. We already knew everyone would be too exhausted to drive home safely after the race.
The day before the race, we packed the van with two bikes and the tandem attachment. Packing itself has become its own evolving system over the years.
After last year’s canoe section, where our daughter sat in water almost the entire time, we packed a small folding stepping stool for the canoe after seeing another family use one during an eight-hour race. I also bought my daughter a hydration vest with a CamelBak system. During our winter race, she constantly stopped us asking for water.
The hydration vest solved one problem and created another.
At a recent orienteering event, she drank half her water before the race even started. When she was constantly drinking, she needed to go constantly during the race.
So this time, we packed a full one-liter bladder for her plus another one-liter backup bladder in my husband’s backpack. Ironically, she paced herself perfectly this race and never needed the backup.
The weather forecast also warned about possible rain, so we packed warm layers and rain gear. Of course, it never rained. We ended up overdressed and hot most of the race.
I also packed far too many snacks and homemade cookies because those had basically kept her moving during our winter race. Surprisingly, we finished with leftover snacks and leftover water. Honestly, that may have been one of the clearest signs we were becoming more experienced.
We have slowly learned that adventure racing is not only about fitness. Strategy matters a lot.
The race check-in started at 10:30 a.m., and we intentionally planned to arrive around 10:00 a.m. so we could drop off the bikes and get fully organized before map pickup. We wanted maximum time to study the maps.
Before the race day, we discussed strategy extensively. Since our daughter has the most energy at the start of the race, we originally planned to start with trekking first, then biking and canoeing later since my husband and I do most of the work there. We also talked about limiting trekking to around one hour because we wanted to prioritize the bike and canoe sections.
Once we got the maps, though, we started second-guessing ourselves.
The trekking section was split into two parts: an easier southern section and a much more difficult northern section. We debated every possibility. Should we do the hard section first while we were fresh? Should we save it for last? Should we start with biking instead so we would know exactly how much time remained?
Since we had never cleared a course before, every decision also meant deciding what we might eventually sacrifice.
After a lot of discussion, we stayed with our original plan: easy trekking first, then biking, then canoeing, and if we had enough time afterward, maybe we would attempt the difficult northern trekking section.
We also talked with several more experienced teams before the race. One team told us they planned to cut through the mountain bike trails to reach the road instead of taking the longer street route around the park. That advice probably changed our entire race.
The race started with a silly team challenge. Colored flags were spread across a field, each color creating a different path. Teams stood in a line with everyone blindfolded except the person in the back, who had to guide the entire team silently by tapping shoulders.
Since our daughter was too small to comfortably reach shoulders in line, my husband and I stood in front and behind her while she held onto our waists with her blindfold on. Somehow, shuffling across a field half-blind became the perfect start to a family adventure race.
We cleared the easy southern trekking section smoothly. Our daughter was always excited whenever we found another “treasure,” her name for checkpoints.
Then we headed onto the bikes.
The mountain bike trails were rougher than I expected. There were steep ramps where I stopped and walked because I was honestly scared. After leaving the trails, we had a long ride on roads to reach the canoe section. The ride felt endless. Small roads sometimes did not appear clearly on the map, and my husband repeatedly wondered if we had somehow already passed the turn.
There were many teams on the road, so at least I could follow people ahead of me.
Eventually we reached the turn back onto the bike trails. That ride somehow felt even longer. My husband was still ahead of me even while towing our daughter on the tandem. It felt like we would never arrive at the canoe section. Soon we started seeing teams riding back the opposite direction, the teams who had started with biking first. Seeing them returning while we were still heading out made me start mentally calculating how long the canoe section might take.
Then finally we arrived at the lake.
When we first started adventure racing back in 2018, we were terrible at canoeing. We zigzagged down rivers. At one race, we even rode the boat backwards until one team corrected us and we had to do a 180 turn in the middle of the river.
This year felt completely different.
The canoe section felt smooth and fast. There was one checkpoint very far down the lake, but somehow we moved steadily and efficiently. Maybe we still zigzagged a little but you do not feel it in a lake compared to in a river. But compared with 2018, we felt incredibly smooth.
The only regretting part was that our daughter still could not really participate much paddling. The folding stool worked perfectly and kept her out of the water this year, but paddling was still difficult for her. Her paddle kept getting caught deep in the water or hitting mine because she did not yet have enough strength to paddle. Eventually we asked her to stop paddling, which made her bored.
Later, while looking through race photos, I noticed another family had their child responsible for scooping water out of the canoe with a bucket. What a brilliant idea. The child stays involved, and the canoe stays lighter. After the race, I started teaching my daughter that maybe next year she could either paddle shallow or become officially in charge of scooping water. She immediately loved the idea of being the canoe water scooper next time.
The ride back from the canoe section felt emotionally very different from the ride out.
Now I knew how long the trails actually were. My expectations were calibrated. My husband somehow started falling behind a little, so much of the ride became just me alone on the trail. I could barely see the team ahead of me. There were dairy farms all around, along with the unmistakable “fresh” farm smell. I started singing while riding.
I felt strong.
My heart rate was near anaerobic levels, but my spirits were strangely high.
Eventually I stopped after the turn back onto the road to wait for my husband. When he finally got closer, he was breathing hard and pedaling heavily. Then he asked quietly:
“Are we going to be able to do this next year?”
To me, my husband has always been the Ironman who could bike or run forever, the guy who could casually finish a half marathon in two hours without training. Even though he has told me many times that he is older now and not that person anymore, I do not think I fully believed it until that moment.
Then came the hill.
Normally I only adjust the gears on the right side of my bike, but the hill became steep enough that even my easiest gear was not enough. I had to shift the left side into the lowest gear too.
I just kept pedaling, one push at a time.
At the same time, I kept cheering for my husband and daughter because I knew he was struggling physically at that moment. There were times he stood up to pedal harder, and I encouraged my daughter to stand and pedal too to help Dada.
Eventually we finally reached the top.
My husband became emotional. While riding, he reached back trying to hold my daughter’s hand and thanked her.
“Dada would not be able to do this without your help.”
That moment alone made the entire race worth it.
On the ride back, looking at time, I realized we might actually have almost an hour left.
For the first time, I seriously thought we might clear a course.
But I had thought that during previous races too, so I tried not to get too hopeful.
We started the final northern trekking section around 4:10 p.m. The race ended at 5:00 p.m., and after being late during our first two years of racing, we absolutely did not want penalties.
The northern trekking section was much harder than the southern section. Wide ski trails and narrow mountain bike trails crossed and paralleled each other everywhere. At one point, we thought we were on one trail when we had actually drifted onto the next trail over.
Still, I was glad we saved this section for last.
If we had started here in the morning, we probably would have panicked every time we got confused because we would constantly worry about the rest of the race. Now, with the bike and canoe already behind us, getting temporarily lost felt stressful but manageable.
As we moved through the trails, we could hear the crowd cheering near the finish line echoing through the hills. The sound was both encouraging and stressful at the same time.
In the end, we cleared almost every checkpoint except the final one at the top of a ski hill.
At 4:45 p.m., we made the decision to turn back.
We did not want to risk being late again.
For the last few minutes, we were basically running back toward the finish while my daughter kept asking why we needed to hurry so much. Then suddenly, once she saw the finish gate, she exploded with energy and sprinted ahead of us toward the final punch by herself.
My husband and I just stared at her in disbelief.
Where did this energy even come from?
After the race, watching other teams discuss routes, I realized something important. Some teams had started the northern trekking section from the top of the ski hill and worked backward downhill.
What a smart strategy.
If we had done that, we probably would have cleared the entire course.
That realization changed how I thought about adventure racing. For years, I assumed the reason we struggled was mostly physical. Of course our physical condition is not amazing either. But this race made me realize that strategy matters just as much, maybe even more.
The mountain bike shortcut advice alone probably saved our race. Without it, we likely would not even have had time to attempt the difficult northern trekking section.
We still missed one checkpoint.
But we had never been this close before.
After the race, we were completely exhausted. I was very thankful we chose to stay overnight instead of driving two and a half hours home immediately. My daughter and I probably would have fallen asleep in the car while my husband struggled to stay awake driving.
All three of us were asleep in the hotel by 8:00 p.m.
The next morning, we slept in and let our daughter play in the hotel pool before heading home. To her, any hotel with a pool automatically means vacation.
While splashing happily in the water, she looked at us and asked:
“Are we in vacation?”
And honestly, maybe we were.