These days it’s not all that unusual for mountain bikers to be lined up at the start of a race on foot. The running start is a common feature of 24-hour and other endurance races. But on this occasion, Team Bikemagic was lined up on a patch of soggy sand in the middle of the Longmoor Camp army training ground preparing to run considerably further than the usual few hundred yards. We had the right sort of shoes on and everything.

And the reason for this somewhat strange behaviour? Clothing manufacturer Helly Hansen had caught us at a weak moment with their, “Hey, we’re sponsoring an adventure race series, want to have a go?” email, we thought that it sounded like it might be a chuckle and said yes. Seemed like a good idea at the time, seemed like a less good idea in the pouring rain and cold in the car park. No turning back, though…

Thankfully, the Helly Hansen Adventure Challenge Series isn’t the kind of adventure race that involves a week in the Peruvian jungle carrying all your own gear. No, these are much shorter affairs, kind of like a rugged triathlon. The only information we had before the day was that we’d have to run 6-7 miles, ride bikes about 15, canoe up to one mile and do some unspecified “extra challenges”. This lot should, apparently, take somewhere between three and five hours. In our usual style of striving for wide-ranging mediocrity, we decided that four would be a decent time.

When the actual details of the race were revealed, things were definitely looking up for us. The running was split up into small stretches but the mountain biking was one big slab in the middle. A glance around the pits suggested that a healthy part of the field probably didn’t have all that much MTB experience – all the ones who’d hired bikes from the organisers for the day, for a start – so with any luck we’d have a bit of an advantage. Obviously none of us laid claim to any sort of running or canoeing experience, but we’d just have to hope for the best there.

The gun went and we were off. The entry was sufficiently large (200 teams of three) that there were two separate starts – half the field had started ten minutes ago, with the times getting corrected at the end. But that still meant that we were running through the woods in a pack of 300 people, which just proved that traffic jams in the singletrack isn’t a phenomenon unique to bike races. We just aimed to hang in there, which was OK on the flatter bits but punishing on the steep climbs – if you think climbing on bikes hurts, try sprinting up a slippery bank on foot.

A couple of miles later and we were back near the start and the transition area. A lot of bikes had already gone, but given that we started ten minutes behind half the teams that wasn’t all that surprising. Off with the running shoes, on with the rigid bike shoes, hydrationpackhelmetglovesglasses and away.

On your bike

Pre-race discussions had concluded that the bike course was likely to be fairly undemanding, what with the generally non-bikey demographic taking part. But that assumption turned out to be complete cobblers. Even in the dry, the sandy, swoopy, dippy, up-and-downy course would have been entertaining. But it was far from dry (although it had at least stopped raining), adding mud and deep puddles into the mix.

At some point during the bike leg we started to suspect that we might not actually be doing too badly. We were overtaking plenty of people, and Chris overheard one of them commenting that he was “glad we’re not in the second wave”. Which we found very heartening, as we were in the second wave and had therefore reeled in people ten minutes ahead of us.

It wasn’t easy going, though. The lap length was something like seven miles, which is somewhat longer than you’d find at most XC races (although in the ballpark for a 24-hour course). And the combination of puddles, mud and wet sand was both tough to ride through and taking its toll on the bikes. We were all experiencing a distinct lack of brake pads by the second lap, and even though the transmissions on our bikes probably cost more than the entire hire bikes that a lot of the competitors were riding, they still managed to sound like someone with a particularly vigorous pestle and mortar action. We certainly wouldn’t have wanted to be whoever had to clean and fettle all the hire bikes afterwards…

After a lot of traffic on the first lap, the relatively quiet second lap (in which everyone had spread out a lot) made life somewhat easier. Back to the transition area at the end of the second lap and a short pause to get back into running mode. Which proved not to be all that straightforward – taking off helmets, Camelbaks and Velcro’d shoes was easy enough, but tying shoelaces with cold fingers is a bit like picking up cocktail sticks with boxing gloves. We got there in the end, though, and it was off on the running course again with only the briefest of pauses for a perfectly-synchronised team wee stop.

You’re sacked

Running straight after riding is a weird sensation. Actually, “weird” isn’t quite the right word for it. “Agonising” is closer. It feels like someone’s nicked your legs and replaced them with a pair that are not only half the length but also don’t hinge in the middle. Fortunately the spongy forest trails were fairly forgiving, but unfortunately they didn’t last – after the steep bank we were directed along a stretch of Tarmac which felt like someone attacking the soles of your feet with hammers.

Still, it could have been worse. We could have had to stop running and cover several hundred yards with one of each of our legs in the same sack. Ah, hang on, that’s exactly what happened. Had we thought about this we’d have formed an orderly line and all put the same leg in the sack, but we just adopted the first approach that came to mind. I had my right leg in the sack, Chris his left, and between us Dave ended up with one leg in the sack and the other awkwardly dragging behind in the manner of a Lycra-clad Richard the Third. It sucked, and that was just for Chris and I. Dave definitely had the shortest of three already quite short straws, though.

Messing about in boats

More running after that took us to the lake, to collect buoyancy aids and an awkward number of inflatable canoes and paddles. Figuring out how best to transport three people in two boats with two paddles is a puzzle akin to that old thing about the river crossing with a fox, a chicken and a bag of grain. Once again we went with the “first thing that struck us” plan – Chris was the least unconfident in his canoeing abilities so he went solo in one canoe, while Dave and I took the other one and alternated paddling duties. Probably we should have swapped the paddle over when one or the other of us got tired, but in practice we’d keep going until the frustration of constantly going sideways or round in circles got too much and then hand the paddle to the other. We could blame the gusty wind with some justification, but in truth we’re just rubbish at canoeing. Chris adopted an interesting recumbent style and seemed fairly untroubled by directional problems. A lot of other teams had two people paddling one boat and towing the third person in the other, which looked like a great plan. Especially if you were the third person.

Two laps completed and it was back to shore for the run to the finish. Obviously after wading in and out of the lake our feet were properly wet and cold, and having not really used them for the last twenty minutes or so they felt like they’d been replaced by wooden carvings.

Still, it could have been worse. We might have got to the bit of the course with the sacks and had to go back the other way with all of us stood on a pair of planks with foot loops on them. Ah, hang on…

This was marginally less awkward than the sack thing, but it wasn’t a recipe for sparkling conversation – “left, right, left, right, left, right, left, waaargh! Oops” was about the level. We only all fell on our faces three or four times, though, and we found ourselves making a step with our right legs on the call of “left” for the briefest of periods.

Home straight

It’s hard to think of running as being a relief after anything, but it certainly was in this case. The final leg of the course followed the same route as the second half of the first run – down the slippery bank, up through the woods, down towards the transition area and the finish… And then fall victim to the evil minds behind the course design. Just as the transition area came into view, an arrow pointed us left, out of the trees and into the waterlogged sand dunes in a direction best described as “directly away from the finish line”.

A scramble up and over the dunes and then it was a 180° turn and a straight dash to the finish. Did we say “dash”? We mean “weary slog”, of course. There was a final sting in the tail, too, and it wasn’t even the extra short hill just before the finish line. Between us and the line was a triple whammy of heavy scramble net, a puddle almost as big as the canoeing lake (only muddier) and a slick plywood wall.

With remarkable presence of mind, we dived under the net just behind the team in front, taking a bit of advantage of their lifting efforts. Sticking close so that the net didn’t have a chance to droop between us too much, we made it out the other side. I was out first and lifted the end of the net to help Chris out, then we both held it up for Dave. And then, being charitable sorts, dropped it on the team following us. Sorry, chaps!

After that the wall wasn’t too much of a problem. Lots of people seemed to be trying to climb slowly up its greasy surface, some using each other as ladders. But we simply approached it as if we were on bikes – take a good run at it and unweight at the transition. Presto! Over the lip and sliding down the other side, with the finish line a mere dazed stagger away.

And that was it. We finished in a time of 3:52, under the four-hour target that we wouldn’t admit to setting for ourselves and, by some kind of miracle, in 28th place overall. Not too shabby given that we’d describe ourselves as competent at only one of the disciplines involved…

Would we do it again? Yes, we would. In fact, we probably will. Helly Hansen and Trailplus are teaming up to do the series again next year, with four events. One of which will, gloriously, be in June. Keep an eye on www.trailplus.com for the details.

Team BM

In the long and honourable tradition of BM’s participation in team events, we pulled a team together by putting Mike and Dave in it and then phoning round our mates to fill any remaining spaces. No, it’s not even slightly democratic, but it seems to work. This time round our ringer, er, guest team-mate, was Chris Williams – he fitted the bill on all counts, as we’ve raced with him before, he was relatively local to the race venue and, most importantly, he’s not big on running and hopefully wouldn’t show us up too badly. And of course he’s of Team BM regulation height…

Kit and bits

If you thought it was tricky trying to decide what to wear for a bike ride, this kind of multisport shenanigans is a whole other challenge. You tend to be working harder running than riding, you experience more windchill riding than running, and if you’re going out in a canoe you’re likely to get fairly wet. Handily, event sponsors Helly Hansen flowed us some gear for the occasion. Most usefully, some new Cutter trail-running shoes – lightweight, grippy, just the job. Ordinarily we’d say that it wasn’t a great idea to do an event like this in a pair of brand-new, untried shoes, but given the choice between running across wet ground in unfamiliar but grippy shoes or familiar (read: knackered) but virtually slick shoes, we went with the “not falling over” option. Fortunately they turned out to be rather good. We all changed into proper bike shoes for the bike bit – a lot of people didn’t and rode with flats or toeclips, but it was a long bike leg and we wouldn’t run far in bike shoes so why bike in running shoes? It was definitely worth taking the time to change them.

We usually ride in baggies, but didn’t really fancy running in voluminous shorts so went all Lycra for the day. A Helly Hansen Charger base layer under a BM jersey offered tunable warmth (push sleeves up or pull them down, two zips to adjust) while a combination of HH cycling shorts and 3/4 or full-length tights seemed to work on the lower half. It was quite a nippy day, so we kept gloves on for the run. And I started with some surrogate hair in the shape of a silly bandana thing but took it off during the first running leg when I got too hot…