Name: Greg Carter

Birthday: July 30, 1969

Occupation: Consultant

 

The Challenge:
(
In the middle of the Texas summer (Temperature: at least 96 degrees. Humidity: very likely over 96%), In 32 hours)

32 pitches of rock climbing

32 miles mountain biking

3.2 mile run

32-point game of 2-on-2 sand volleyball

3.2 miles of paddling

32 minutes of hoola hooping

32 Dead songs played on mandolin or guitar

16 Tex-Mex's (Lone Star w/lime)

16 Nissin brand shrimp flavored Cup-O-Noodles (much more than a soup)

 

 Behold the power of soup…

The 2001 Cup O’ Noodles Classic officially opened at 3:10 PM CST on Friday, July 27th. Just before the event started, I was wearing my chef’s cap, cooking up my specialty. Being a purist, I normally like to boil the water in a pot on the stove and then pour the hot water into the single-serving Styrofoam cup. However, on the day of the challenge, I was forced to improvise, as the only sources of heat in our office kitchen are a coffee maker, a microwave and a George Forman grill. As it turned out, this departure from my standard Cup O’ Noodles cooking methods was to be only the first of many…

 

After cooking up three soups, I proceeded to pour two of them into a bicycle water bottle. The third, I set aside to cool for use at the starting line. As soon as my riding partner, Brad “Alpo” Roalson (Read Brad's story), had gathered his gear, Mark Lowther, the official Birthday Challenge Scribe, set his stopwatch and started the 32-hour ordeal.

I must have been a bit nervous by the task that lay ahead, because the first soup didn’t have its normal ambrosia-like qualities. In fact, I was surprised to find that I had a little bit of difficulty getting it down. At that moment, I knew I was in for a tough time.

Once the first soup lay safely in my belly, Brad and I rushed downstairs to our bikes. We conveniently work about a quarter mile from the end of the Barton Creek Greenbelt, so in no time we were barreling down the steep and rocky trail called the Hill of Life. While my body bounced and jerked on the bike as it careened in partial control over the rocks, my noodle-filled belly once again reminded me that I had engaged upon a foolhardy mission and promised to rebel if I didn’t reconsider.

“My God,” shouted Alpo, “It feels like a sauna out here.” He was, of course referring to the 102 degrees and 92% humidity we were experiencing at the moment. “My only consolation is that I didn’t just chug down a pint of hot soup.”

I could see that this kind of heckling would be coming from all sides for the duration of the challenge…

The trail is quite technical and usually sees me spill painfully at least a half a dozen times over the six-mile stretch from the trailhead to the Seismic Wall, our first rock-climbing stop. But luck was shining brightly (or was that the blazing sun?!!) that day and we managed to do the section in record time with no major falls.

 
 

We arrived at the wall at 4:40 PM, where my wife, Megan, was waiting with the climbing gear. In a rare display of efficiency, I managed to knock out 7 climbs in just under an hour and then Brad and I were back on our bikes, riding down the trail.  My friend Alex had graciously agreed to meet me at our next stop, the New Wall, to assist with belay duty. We arrived there at about 6:00 PM, in plenty of time to knock out 5 more routes.  I had originally planned to be very conservative at this wall and stick to fairly easy climbs so that I wouldn’t pump out too early in the challenge. Nearly every route at the New Wall is overhung and they are some of the longest routes in the Greenbelt. But after the 2nd climb, I was feeling strong and decided to throw in a route I had stricken from the list only a week earlier. Mr. Slate is a 5.11 route that has been known to eat up all my strength if I don’t hit the sequence of moves just right.  Luckily, with the adrenaline pumping, I managed to pull it off with plenty of energy left to finish the last two climbs of the evening.

 

As soon as I hit the ground from the last climb I cracked the first Lone Star. Megan had brought it to Seismic Wall, packed in a Ziploc freezer bag full of ice. Unfortunately it had been strapped to my Camel Back ever since and the ice was no match for the late afternoon sun, so I was forced to quaff the first beer luke-warm.

 

At about 7:45 PM, Brad and I hit the trail again and headed for the volleyball courts. As we climbed up out of the Barton Creek Greenbelt, I began to admire the setting sun. Admiring it, that is, until I realized that I had only about a half an hour left of daylight! Brad and I kicked it into high gear and quickly rounded the hills above the Shoal Creek Greenbelt. We were at the sand volleyball courts within ten minutes.

As we rode up, someone tossed me a beer and I headed out to join Rafael, Matt and Marty for an intense, 32-point game of 2-on-2.  The game started out as one of the better ones I could remember played in during the Friday afternoon happy-hour league.

It stayed fairly tight and we were all playing well until it started to get dark. After that, Matt and Rafael managed to pull out ahead and threatened to trounce us. Marty and I bravely held on and tried to make up for our inability to see the ball with some solid smack-talk, but in the end, they beat us by a good 10 points. No matter, it was fun and I had managed to raise the beer tally to 3 by the time we stopped playing.

  I must say that the support crew was amazing at volleyball. Marty had brought out a lantern and a Coleman camp stove and by the time we stopped playing, folks had the light on and a soup ready for my enjoyment. We all gathered around the lantern and had a blast singing Dead songs, eating soup and drinking Tex-Mex’s.

Marty really took the cake when he called for a break from playing strictly Dead songs and broke into a sweet bluesy Birthday song he had written for the occasion.  Next Rafael broke out the Ashiko drum and we launched into a funky, Joe Cocker-style rendition of Feelin’ Alright.

Before I knew it, it was 11:00 PM and we had only played 10 Dead tunes. I should have taken it as an omen and planned accordingly. I was beginning to realize that in a festive environment, it takes quite a while to get through a few songs – especially if they are by the Grateful Dead! I decided to make El Paso the final tune of the night, but then Brad insisted that if he was going to join me for the rest of the night’s activities, he needed a pick-me-up. So I closed the circle with my old standby – Bertha.

After the songs, Brad and I mounted our bikes to ride back to my house where we were scheduled to rendezvous with Megan and Matt to pick up the kayaks. Within the first several minutes of our ride, Brad & I both realized we had a problem. We had unknowingly ridden right through a patch of goat head thorns. We stopped to assess the damage and began picking thorns out of our tires. I was relieved as I picked the last one out and my tires were intact. Brad, however, informed me that he was not so lucky and could hear a distinct hissing sound of slowly leaking air coming from not one, but both tires! We decided we couldn’t take the time to fix the flats since midnight was fast approaching. Thus, we decided to suck it up and race home before the tires went completely flat. As Brad struggled to keep pace with his half flat tires, I felt fortunate that he was the one wasting extra energy instead of me. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was the first sign that the Birthday Challenge was turning in my favor.

We made it to the house successfully and took a short break so I could down another Cup O’ Noodles before piling the kayaks onto the trucks and heading down to the lake. When we arrived at the parking lot and began to unload our gear, a cop drove up and asked us if we were “loading up?” Braced for a hassle, I hid my bottle of Tex-Mex behind my back and told him we were about to put in. I then proceeded to innocently ask if there was a curfew on the lake while standing in front of a sign prohibiting alcohol, glass containers and being out past 10:00 PM. What happened next was the second sign that I had positive Birthday karma working for me. The officer looked off in the distance and said, “How long are you going to be out there?” I assured him we wouldn’t be more than an hour or two. He replied, “I ain’t gonna mess with y’all but I can’t promise you that another officer won’t.”

You gotta love Texas!

Matt, Brad, Megan and I then enjoyed a leisurely paddle on the smooth water. The partial moon flickered over the waves and provided a good backdrop for meditating on the events of the day – Bad idea. When you are out in the middle of a lake at 2:00 AM, you don’t want to think about the fact that you are totally exhausted, have 7 beers and 6 soups sloshing around in your gut, and will be up at 6:00 AM for another full day of it!

As we finished paddling and were loading the kayaks back onto the trucks, bad luck struck my support crew once again…Matt realized that he had locked his keys in his car! Matt and Brad began fashioning slim jims out of sticks and going through all kinds of contortions in an effort to break into the car. Megan and I noticed that they made quite a target and decided not to wait around for the cop to return. As we drove off, I thought to myself that this was yet another good sign for me… it seemed that my support crew was absorbing all potential bad luck for me!

We arrived home and after one more soup, I made it to bed by 3:00 AM.          Day 2  Back to Greg's Index