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When you're in the race you don't think about the big picture. You can't. You have no idea where or when it's going to end. You don't know what day of the week it is, and you're operating on very little sleep. All you can really focus on is the task and moment at hand. We could be friends before the race, and we could be friends after, but during the battle, it was all about victory. So if I hurt your feelings, too bad. It's a sport, and I'm here to win. That's I think what separated Chris and I from everyone else. We didn't let our emotions get in the way. A perfect example was when Wil and Tara had lost their clue before heading to Alaska, and unbeknownst to us, the last day of the race. They approached Chris and me and asked if we could tell them where they needed to be and what they needed to do. As nice as I could, I reminded them of our agreement that the alliance ended when we made the final three. Wil persisted to the point that I had to shut him down with a harsh "no" and walked away. He was furious and more determined than ever to beat us. I kind of got the feeling that Wil didn't even care if he finished second, as long as he finished ahead of the two of us. Wil and Tara managed to make it to Alaska by tailing us to our plane and eventually telling their pilot to "follow that plane." When I learned of what they had done, I was overcome with a very quick moment of anger. I quickly calmed down; there was no time to lose it at this juncture. Little did I know, we would return the favor, which eventually won Chris and me the race.  Chris and Alex seconds from winning and $1 million. The day of the last leg, we woke up somewhere in Alaska after spending the night in an igloo. In Alaska during January, the cold air crushes your lungs and freezes any part of your body that's exposed. By then we had traveled more than 50,000 miles. I wanted the race to end. We hadn't slept for three days; we hadn't eaten very much. My mind was losing perspective; my body was running on fumes. I didn't know how much more of this I could take. If there had been a part of my body or mind that could stretch, it was snapped. We set out in the bitter cold for our final challenges – a husky ski pull. This challenge never aired. It was too intense, and the producers felt it wouldn't go over well with the viewers. The idea was that two husky dogs would pull a team member on skis across frozen earth. Chris is a big guy – 6'3", 220 pounds – these dogs worked. At one point, he's carrying the dogs trying to cross the finish line. I'm an animal lover, but I'm beating my dogs to go faster. All I can think of is that the finish line could have been at the end of this leg, and I'd be damned if I was going to let some dogs keep me from nirvana. Next, we all got into Snow Cats and set out across a frozen lakebed in search of our next clue. The sweat I'd built up from the ski pull was starting to freeze on my face and neck sending an icy chill deep inside my bones. My face was raw and burnt from the wind and sun tearing at my skin. The only thing that kept me from breaking down and collapsing in a heap on the snow was the fierce heat of competition. From the Snow Cats we hopped into 4 X 4's and drove 50 miles to the middle of nowhere, which is all relative in Alaska. We had to bust through a block of ice to get our next set of instructions. Chris immediately hopped out of the car and shattered the block in a few blows. The clue lifted my spirits. We were headed back to San Francisco. I swelled with emotion, finally sensing some closure to the 28 days of madness we had endured. The goal was within reach. Now we just had to get to the city by the bay. We came to a literal and figurative fork in the road. Do we drive to Anchorage for our flight back to San Francisco or do we go to Fairbanks? I had no idea. Which was closer? I looked at the map and immediately guessed Fairbanks International Airport. Several hours into the drive, I began to worry. I made a mistake that surely cost us the chance of prevailing as champions of race two. I was barely hanging on. How could I have been so stupid? My thoughts were distorted. The entire ride, Chris and I barely uttered two words. When we arrived at Fairbanks International Airport, we raced up to the counter and I asked the ticket agent the only thing that was on my mind – "Is there any way another flight from anywhere in Alaska could beat us back to the States?" When she assured me there was none, all the tension left my body like a deflated balloon. Only then did I realize there had been a throbbing behind my eyeballs for the past two hours. Feeling at ease that my decision hadn't cost us the race, Chris and I went to grab something to eat. When we returned, the ticket lady was ashen-faced. She had made a mistake. There was a flight leaving Anchorage for Oakland sooner than she thought. We had less than five minutes to get on a plane that was sitting on the tarmac that would take us to Anchorage, which would get us on that plane to Oakland. We made it with a minute to spare. The airports were the great equalizer, so it actually became important where you sat on the plane. If you were in the back, you lost valuable minutes from somebody sitting in the front. When I walked up to the ticket counter in Anchorage, I was floored when the ticket agent gave Chris and me first class seats. Apparently, the other two teams had been complete assholes so she wanted help us out. As soon as the plane landed, Chris and I were two rockets blasting through the airport. I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to all the women and children we bowled over trying to get the first cab. We were headed to Atkinson-Esher house, the oldest building in San Francisco, with the possibility to end the race and win the million dollars. Nothing was going to stand in our way. We arrived at Atkinson-Esher house first and grabbed our next clue. I felt no pain. No fatigue. I was focused and locked in like a laser beam. The next clue set us off to the Municipal Pier. As we were pulling away, relief washed over my body as I saw Wil and Tara pulling up.
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