How often do you get the opportunity to compete in your first adventure race alongside one of the most highly respected racers in the world? Well I got such a chance with Paul Romero at his Team Epinephrine "E Camp." Adventure racing camp, huh? It must be like one of those "a few hours of exercise with lots of clinics," right? Wrong!

We arrived on a Friday night, were assigned a team, and attended two hours worth of "clinics," after which we were considered adventure racers and soon required to cover close to 100 miles of terrain around and on Big Bear Lake in Southern California.

Our adventure would require us to trek, orienteer, kayak, mountain bike, horseback ride, and complete a rope section. Having only found out about the requirements just before the event, I wasn't that confident in my readiness — climbing, running, and ultimate Frisbee skills would have to be enough to get me through.

The teams consisted of three men and one woman, including a "guide" who was there only to make sure we didn't kill ourselves, but left all decision making to the team no matter the consequences (except death).

My team consisted of Mike, who bought a compass on the way to the camp; David, who had completed several sprint events but never a 24-hour event; Romero, the E Camp owner, adventure racer extraordinaire, winner of many races both sprint and expedition style, and myself. And though I've never competed in an adventure race, I consider myself to be in decent shape.

The other teams were stacked, including one team of pro mountain bikers, and another of European orienteers. I knew we were in trouble, and decided to focus on the adventure rather than the outcome.

The race started at 3am when we were given our maps and a few hours to plan and prepare. We began the trekking portion in the pitch black night and were just trying to distinguish up from down on the map, learning all the way that the ability to navigate is the single most critical aspect of adventure racing. While thinking we were doing pretty well, we arrived in the first transition area only to find out we were in last place.

The kayaking leg was also a struggle, but we lucked out when the other teams took a wrong turn and had to go back to a passport control. The tables had turned and we were suddenly in first place. One wrong move and you're playing catch up.

The next few hours went relatively smoothly. Organizers threw us for a loop though when we learned the horseback section involved just one horse per team. Our mishap occurred when it was David's turn to ride and rest on "King." He rode ahead and made a directional decision at a fork without leaving any sign. After several minutes of yelling and waiting, he, David that is, finally sauntered back.

The next leg proved to be the toughest, an eight-hour, nighttime trek up 10,000-foot Sugarloaf Mountain. At 8,000 feet, on the way to the summit, I hit a physical wall I have never hit before. I was just up on Washington's Mount Baker two weeks before, and with all the climbing I do I was shocked to be slammed by the altitude. Now I have hit lesser walls before, but this one left me unable to stop moving due to my equilibrium.... I could not even balance myself (I won't even go into my episode of trying to go to the bathroom while off balance).

For the next two-and-a-half hours all I could do was focus on not throwing up the small amount of Clif Bar and water I had managed to get down. It is in these moments when you start to have the clarity about your place on this earth, and learn how far willpower can take you. My team was totally supportive, all the while helping me continue on and eat and drink as much as possible. To my surprise, the moment we summitted and began the descent I felt revitalized, which was good, because at that same moment David hit his wall.

We met up with another team on the backside of the trek and stuck with them until the next transition area, at which time both David and a member of the other team pulled out, saying they couldn't go on. We decided to grab an hour of sleep, and ended up huddled on the ground with space blankets over us, with David shaking uncontrollably in between Paul and I. It is amazing what an hour can do; I felt like I had slept for 10 hours, and even David was in good spirits and ready to charge on.

We left the transition area at 2am on mountain bikes, just behind the other team, which also retained all its members. It was sometime during the night that the four of us transitioned into a team. As we rode in silence, I could feel the connection between us.

The sun peeked its head over Big Bear Lake just as we arrived at the final transition area and the rappel of Castle Rock. At this point we knew, both as a team and as individuals, that we would complete this adventure. We got through the last leg fueled solely by adrenaline and arrived at the house with a finishing time of 29 hours 27 minutes and, unbelievably, in first place.

While we were celebrating with hugs and tears, the orienteering team arrived and we learned from them that the mountain bikers had self destructed. It turns out team personality conflicts caused one of the members to pull out and navigational errors left them spending the night at 9,500 feet. The whole story really showed me that the name of this game is teamwork and as Paul would later say, "Sometimes the most mediocre teams can work together and succeed."

I would highly recommend E Camps to anyone who wants to push themselves beyond where they think they can go.