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| Spartan Winter Death Race |
When the slushy snow beneath Amelia Boone’s boots gave way as she hurried down the mountain towards the next checkpoint, she had no time to react. Her footing gave way sharply sending her tumbling 50 feet down the rocky, tree-lined embankment. She landed, hard, striking her head on the ground. Unsure if she lost consciousness momentarily, Boone sat up in a daze. She was not dazed enough, however, to know almost immediately that she was lost. Peering back up the steep rock face that she just fell from she could see no longer see the trail or any discernible markers indicating where she was. Even worse, this was her first time on the mountain. Taking a deep breath and wincing, she gingerly touched the spot on her head already beginning to swell and knew she couldn’t lose any more precious time sitting idle without a plan. She assessed the horizon. It would be dark in a few hours and she didn’t have any food in her pack beyond half a Power Bar and her water bladder was almost empty. “At least there is snow.” She thought to herself.
