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Parent Trapped
Austin Murphy
December 22, 2003
I customarily use the December column to gaze back on my year in adventure, much the way I was constantly craning my neck to look behind me last August during the 24 Hours of Tahoe, a mountain-bike relay race. That way I had a better idea of who was about to pass me.
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December 22, 2003

Parent Trapped

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While scrubbing hardened marsh-mallow off my children's faces that night (don't get me started on how overrated s'mores are), I concluded that, next to the sustained, grueling servitude of the camping trip, the adventure race had been a walk in the park.

After breakfast on the final morning of the trip it was decided that the children would do the dishes. It was a Gong Show. While arguing over which one of them would man the spigot, they created a fair-sized wetland for migrating waterfowl but cleaned no dishes. Banishing them, I took over.

While performing this chore, my thoughts drifted to Team King Oscar's last hours on the Androscoggin River six nights earlier. The final leg of our race had been a nocturnal, hypothermia-inducing 24-mile paddle. True, it was warm at this campsite, but at least in Maine there was a damn finish line.

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