I was 20 miles in before I crashed. I didn't hurt myself much--a nasty scrape across my chest from the end of my handlebar, figure that one out--but I took it down a notch after that. No need to ride absolutely everything if Joe was choosing not to, and walking some sections was a nice break.
We rolled into the first aid station (checkpoint, really, since the time cutoff applied there, but labeled as an aid station) with 45 minutes or so to spare. We were getting tired and it was warming up, only 25 miles into the race. The first few miles were spent in a grand parade of herky-jerky singletrack, among people who had chosen the back of the pack at the start and realized that it would be some time before they wouldn't be held back by those ahead.
After a flat tire (torn sidewall on my part), we were pretty much the last two people on the second 25 miles of the course. Keep drinking, keep moving. Stop in the shade when you get too hot. Get up and move again. Lack of training took its toll. I think we were an hour past the cutoff at aid station two and the end of our race.
I can't capture all the beauty of the trail and the dedication of Nick Ybarra and his crew of workers. The Maah Daah Hey lives up to its reputation, and so does this race. I'll be back again someday to finish.