Ms. Hughes and Ms. Roche-Wallace found an unusual way of spending time together – ultra-endurance racing. Most people don't go to such extremes for one-on-one time with their kids. But it isn't always easy to carve out the hours. How do you fit in one-on-one time with the important people in your life? Join a discussion on The Juggle, WSJ.com's work and family blog.
The team climbs a shale path through groves of aspen and pine. Two black bears paw at a tree stump across the river. Four miles farther, the trail disappears under two feet of snow. They trudge until dusk, then debate about whether to rest or push to the summit, recalls Mr. Campau, the firefighter. He wanted to speed up. He missed the cut-off time for the 2006 Primal Quest. "It eats away at me," he says. He ran his first adventure race in 2003, a few months after his 4-month-old son died. Training got him out of the house during his depression, he says. His wife and two children are waiting at the finish.
Ms. Roche-Wallace worried about moving too fast in the dark. The snow had hardened into ice and the trail was just a foot wide, flanked by a sheer drop-off. She finally agreed to pick up the pace. With new resolve, they reached the 10,000-foot summit at 1 a.m. They descended and slept for two hours, until daybreak. They ran the last 15 miles and staggered out of the Crazy Mountains, 250 miles from the finish.
The next 93 miles is by bike. Racers finish and hobble like old men to the medical tents. "Some feet look like ground beef," says Nadia Shehata, a medical student and race volunteer from Calgary, Canada.
Some pass out after a few bouts of screaming and dry heaves. More than 50 have dropped out. The team that held third place for much of the race was rescued by helicopter. Four teams have been disqualified after injured or fed-up team members quit.
Susan Bower, a 38-year-old teacher from Truckee, Calif., was stopped by shooting pains in her leg. A medical volunteer pulled the tape off her heel and found an exposed Achilles tendon. Doug Judson, a burly man with a blond goatee, reached the Crazy Mountains, near the halfway point in the race. Then he collapsed from dehydration and a respiratory infection.
Those who continue battle hallucinations and blackouts from sleep deprivation. Paul Meade, a pharmaceutical sales representative from Seattle, saw a new house for sale. A moment later, it was gone. Others saw grizzly bears morph into tree stumps. During a 45-mile overnight hike, Julie Ardoin, a New Orleans lawyer, saw Elvis Presley and then wandered off the trail. Her teammate tied a nylon rope to her waist and towed her until daybreak. Blain Reeves and his team held fifth place for the first half of the race, but they quit after a teammate fell ill. "It's so hard to walk away," says Mr. Reeves, a 43-year-old lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army's southern command.
Chris Figenshau for The Wall Street Journal
Mrs. Roche-Wallace kayaks through white water on the Gallatin River.
The weather is 90 degrees and muggy, and a week into the race Ms. Roche-Wallace's team has covered 450 miles. They have two days to finish. Ms. Roche-Wallace limps as they leave a checkpoint by the Gallatin River. Earlier, a medic had tried to relieve the pressure on her infected toe by slicing the skin beneath the toenail with a razor. "How's your foot?" her husband asks. "Fine," she says. "Liar," he says.
They scramble on boulders along the river. Ms. Roche-Wallace stops. "Where's Melissa?" she asks. "She's way behind," Mr. Wallace says. "What if she falls?" Ms. Roche-Wallace says. They consider going back, but Ms. Hughes appears five minutes later. They climb until 1 a.m. and sleep a couple of hours.
The final hike follows a 38-mile trail with an 8,700-foot climb that they need to finish in less than 30 hours. They lose the trail and wander for nearly three hours in a marsh, they recall. It's 2 a.m. and they are ankle-deep in freezing water. Using a map and compass, they orient toward the final checkpoint and bushwhack to the trail. The descent is 3,000 feet of switchbacks. At the bottom, they see the house lights on Ennis Lake. They walk three miles on a rocky road, a last assault on their bruised feet. They arrive at the last checkpoint at 4 a.m. and eat cold hamburgers left by their support crew. They sleep an hour and rise at dawn. Osprey and white pelicans feed on rainbow trout. Mr. Campau does a little dance. Thirty-one miles left.
The homestretch is on bike. They pedal around the lake, their muscles stiff and rebellious. They pass a pasture of yellow mustard blossoms and wooded hills. They finish at 11 a.m. in 25th place, after 10 days and one hour. Mr. Kloser's team won the race after five days and 11 hours.
Temperatures are in the 80s, but mother and daughter put on fleece jackets. Their toes will stay numb for weeks. Ms. Roche-Wallace isn't sure she'll do this again. But when she returns home, she'll begin training. Ms. Hughes talks about how she almost quit.
Early in the race, Ms. Hughes found a note in her pack from her mother that said "I love you." Ms. Roche-Wallace's own mother had a habit of hiding notes in her daughter's pockets. Two months after her mother's death in 1998, Ms. Roche-Wallace found notes in her pack during a race. Her mother had asked Ms. Hughes to put them there shortly before she died. "Go, girl," said one.
Sitting a few yards past the finish line, Ms. Hughes says, "I seriously thought, 'Can I do this? Is it worth it? What the hell am I doing out here?' But already in this moment, I'm wanting more. I know I can do better, which is really, really sick."