We just blogged about these guys who Gregory helps sponsor last week, but - after another first-place finish this past weekend at the Trioba 24-hour race outside Seattle - Team Dart moved to second place in US
ARA-ranked racing in the U.S.
Next up, the team will head down south for the Desert Winds Expedition outside Las Vegas, which is currently the biggest expedition race race in the country (also apparently staged to the music of Phil Collins and Pat Benatar, if you visit their web site … not that there’s anything wrong with that … strange things happen when you get near the limits of physical endurance).
Heat, canyons and the Colorado River will undoubtedly stretch these gals and guys close to those limits over five consecutive days of racing 24/7. Stay tuned …
Earning mostly first and second place since January, DART adventure racing team, sponsored in part by Gregory, is cued up for a lot more adventure with upcoming races in California, Washington, Colorado and Arizona. Races on the roster include, 
Reaching a high point on Makalu earlier this month, 
“Have you found an anchor,” the lead climber’s radio would crackle, disturbing the purposefully meditative state hewas in. While leading we shift into this “zone”, building an impenetrable wall to keep out the fear: falling rocks, frostbitten toes, and hundred foot falls. It is a survival tactic that allows us to bridge the hundreds of feet of danger that separates us from safety. The leaders’ job is to keep moving. If he stops, the belayer may freeze and the danger will never end. “Why,” the leader swears under his steaming breath, “did you have to call me just now? Just when my ice axe placements are suspect, my calves are cramping, and my numb fingers are reminding me that my toes were once numb too. Why did you call when I am most afraid?” But of course the climber would never say that. Any admission of fear opens the flood gates. A tidal wave of self doubt would rush in.
When it comes to 8,000-meter peaks, you only get so far looking at photographs, and reality becomes a lot clearer when you get to the mountain.
Nine days after leaving 
We were lucky, the road was just extended as far as the village of Chinchilla, saving us two days of hot and dusty trekking. Our gear was hauled up that road by a farm tractor, dragging a home-made trailer. We sat in the back of a low torque Indian Jeep, manufactured specifically for steep, rutted, and sometimes slippery roads like this one being carved into the Himalaya. The seats were slats of wood and grab bars were squeezed tightly or you’d be bounced out the back.
