After putting the phone down and assuring me that is girlfriend would be okay with my staying at their house Brandon and Chris drove me through Grand Prairie and on to the small hamlet of Sexsmith where Chris lived some 21 kilometers out of the city.We drove straight to the local pub and had ourselves a beer while we got to know each other.This gave me a chance to plug into the inernet and let everyone know that I was indeed still alive.It also gave Brandon the chance to call his girlfriend again and reassure her that after a couple of beers with me he had figured I was not going to be a worry and that she should calm down and embrace the strange Australian that they found on the side of the road.I don't think she had been sold on the idea but he seemed to think all would be good.
With a couple of beers safely stowed in our bellies Brandon bought some supplies for the night and after dropping Chris off we headed on to his place another ten minute drive away.Driving up the tree-lined dirt road to Brandons property I wondered what sort of reception I would get from his girlfriend Lisa and it wasn't long before I found oout and was put to the test by one of her two dogs,a giant Great Dane.Apparently this dog has held a few visitors captive inside their vehicle bit I was deemed no threat and was soon covered in dog slobber.Lisa literally called off the dogs and I was invited into their home.What a surreal experience to be stranded on the highway in the morning only find myself sitting at a starngers kitchen table the same daywith a beer in hand some 140 kilometers from where I was lying in a ditch wondering what to do with my bad luck.What bad luck I say,this life of mine was coming up trumps every day,thank's to the amazing generosity of some truly wonderful people.
With the first beer down and the initial round of small talk over Lisa suggested that I should do some laundry and judging by the goowing pile of road grit forming under my seat I guess she made the right call.I told her that alll my stuff was wet and dirty and that I had no dry clothes to wear.She looked at Brandon who is a big burly cowboy with broad shoulders and a slim waist and figured that there was no way I would fit any on his clothes so she went into her bedroom and came out with something special from her own wardrobe.She handed me a pair of red pyjama pant with white and pink kisses on them and a bright blue long sleeve top with little yellow flowers.Awesome,now I felt like a real Alberta cowboy,Not!!
As I was in the shower de-greasing myself Lisa apparently decided that all the neighbours should now come over to meet their Australian hitchhiker and an inpromptu party was organised.I came out to the kitchen all clean and prissy in my new girlie clothes to be told of the impending gathering and Brandon wanted to know if I was comfortable wearing those clothes in front of eveyone.I just said "Wait until you see me wear her cowgirl boots".To which her stood there speechless while Lisa laughed her head off and told me that as far as she was concerned I was not going to go anywhere for the next day or so as she wanted me to stay for at least another day so she could cook me a roast dinner.Who are these people!!
It wasn't long before the first of the neighbours arrrived and the beer (and a lot of scotch) was flowing freely.It was so much fun to hang out with these great people as we all sat around a big bonfire in their back yard until the early hours of the next morning telling stories and solving the problems of the world.It was one of those beautiful experiences that happen more and more to me as I let go of all the problems in my head and open myself up completely to the unbridled generosity of ordinary folk who seem,for some reason I can't explain,take to me so quickly and without judgement.It is times like these that I feel truly blessed and my faith in my reason for living on this planet is restored.
The next day was spent doing some chores inn town with Brandon,one of which was to by nyself some clothes to wear that weren't made from lycra.That mission was deemed redundant when he went into his bedroom and found a pair of jeans he hadn't worn for year.He told me to try them on and when I looked a the size 32 printed inside I thought,"There is no way I will fit into these pants".I had put on so much weight ovver the last two years that I had been approaching size 38.I went in and tried them on anyway exoecting to be totally embarrassed but to my surprise they fit perfectly.I my head I was still fat but being on the road for so long riding had whittled my pudge down to a size that I hadn't been in years.I was shocked!!What made my day thoough was when I walked out into the kitchen shirtless in his jeans and Lisa looked at me saying they look great before she through me a shirt and said "Those clothes are yours now,keep them".I could only look at her in wonder.Brandon gave me a coffee and we were off out the back dooor and into his truck for the trip to town.Now at least he wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen with me.
We did a whole bunch of running around doing errands in and around Grand Prairie that morning before heading back to the farm to find Lisa hanging out out in the yard with a young girl who I found out was a neighbour that frequently come to visit in order to escape from her two younger siblings at home.This girl was pretty funny little thing and was one of those ten years old,going on thirty who seemed far more comfortable hanging with the adults than with kids her own age.Her name was Lairn and chatting with her about her short life was nuts as when you looked in her eyes it was as if there was an old soul living inside of that little body.She was a remarkable young lady and it was great fun doing all kinds of chores with her.The main reason she was there though was to do some riding on one of Lisa's three horses,so after weeding,cleaning up the yard and helping us fix and tag the adjoining property's fenceline she was free to hop on board with Lisa and get a riding lesson in.
Later that afternoon the women put together the finishing touches on the roast that had been cooking all day and we all sat down to a great meal,which apparently was so great that it attracted even more neighbours who seemed to come 'round for a visit at just the right time.They brought beer though so I guess it was a fair trade.It was during dinner that they convinced me to finish up my ride there and then and get on a bus to Calgary.I had intended to get Brandon to drive me to his work on the outskirts of Grande Cache and continue on from there but they had seen me struggle to lift a few things that day with my sore arm and the limp from my sore knee was more pronounced.They all suggested that if I really wanted to finish this crazy race I was wanted to badly to do that maybe the best thing would be to rest up and start healthy.I couldn't fault their reasoning and agreed to let Brandon drop me off at the Greyhound early the next day.
Just like that my ride was over but the journey to Ultraman continued.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Flooded,crashed and rescued..
It was just before 5am that the first of the thunderclaps woke me up from my deep sleep.I glanced at my watch and saw that my alarm had been beaten to the punch by about 6 minutes but instead of excitedly going about the morning ritual of packing all my stuff I gingerly unzipped my tent and peered out into a very soggy world waiting to greet me.Shit!!
The weather had turned unexpectedly for the worse and with the rain came a chilly cold front that had me cursing the fact that I could now see my own breath.What made matters worse was the "dry" road that I had so carefully chosen to camp on was rapidly turing into a muddy quagmire.I found this little fact out when I leant out of the tent and grabbed my trailer for support as I crawled out of my sactuary.It mearly sank into the mud underneath and my heart sank with it.What sort of day would this be and where did this shitty weather come from?I slipped my shoes on and stood up next to my tent to be greeted by a dark grey start to what promised to be a very miserable day.I decided to wait it out for a while and got back inside my tent observing the peculiar sitiation of my shoes having accumulated an inch or so of mud,now attached to the soles.I cursed and crawled back into the still warm sleeping bag hoping that the storm would pass and all would be good in a hour or so.There was nothing for it but to go back to sleep.
About two hours later I must have rolled over in my sleep causing my arm to hit the floor of the tent beside me.The only problem with that was,normally my hand would have quietly rested on a dry nylon tent floor,this time though it hit the cold dampness of my tent with a slap that snapped me into conciousness in an instant.The tent was wet,my blanket was wet and my sleeping bag was about to be next.I jumped over to the other side of the tent and crushed myself against the opposite wall and looked back to see a dirty brown puddle forming where I was just lying.I put my hand into the puddle and found a small stick poking through the floor.It seems that as the rain soaked the ground under my tent my bodyweight had sunk the floor into the mud and onto a sick which had pierced the once sturdy nylon.Oh no,I was now in panic mode!As quickly as I could I grabbled everything and flung it to the far end of the tent which was still dry and then set about stuffing all my clothes into my dry compression bag,stuffing the sleeping bag into it's bag and then into a plastic bag before setting about dealing with the sopping blanket and some of my now soaked clothes.It was all hands on deck and the only saving grace was that the rain had stopped long enough for me to get out of the tent,pack my trailer bag and collapse camp without soaking everything.Thankfully my wet weather gear was performing well and thus far had kept me warm and dry during the frantic evacuation process.
There was nothing left to do but get on the road and ride.Normally I wouldn't go out onto the road in conditions this bad but standing around in the pouring rain,being buffeted by a chilly wind was doing nothing for me so I decided that I might as well get going.The actual proocess of moving was a chore as the thick mud stuck fast to everything and the hundred meteres or so to the highway might as well have been a kilometer given the lenght of time it took to push all my gear through the sticky mess.Once on the road I had to wash down my wheels and brakes so that they would work and then it was off again towards Grande Cache,somewhere off in the blackness of a cold Alberta morning. Looking back I probrably should have stayed in my tent and just patched the leak with some tape but I guess I was in too much of a hurry and didn't listen to the little voice inside my head telling me never to ride during such bad conditions.That decision could very well have cost me more than just a miserable soaking ride in the rain.
I had ridden about 20 kilometers along the hilly highway to nowhere when it happened and it happened so suddenly that it was surreal.I had just ridden up and over a long climb and was starting the speedy coast down the other side trying to control by bike from being blown into the lane by the fierce side wind coming from my right.It was so strong that I had to lean into the wind to keep a straight line but that made me feel very unstable and quite frankly scared as hell.As my speed picked up the noise of the wind and rain was thundering in my ears and I never heard the semi-trailer coming but I surely felt it's presence.As soon as the huge truck past me the wind I had been leaning into was blocked and that,combined with the blast of air from the truck itself made me lose all control and I was blown off the road and sent crashing into the flooded ditch on that lined the highway.Once the full weight of my trailer started down the ditch there was no controlling it and I landed heavilly knocking the wind out of my lungs and and all enthusiasm for the road out of my head.
I don't know how long I lay in the ditch and I don't know if I was knocked out but it seemed and eternity,by my recollection,between crashing and finding myself standing once again on the side of the road,this time however I wasn't just wet,I was also covered in mud.I know that I did take stock to find out if the bike was okay and to check myself out for injury.Luckily we had both escaped major worries and came away with only some scratches and bruises,thank's in part I guess to the soft landing and the number of layers I was wearing to keep out the cold.That cold was starting to eat away at my defences though and I realised that it was time to get out of this bad situation and try to get some help from someone passing by.I did realise though that the chances of someone stopping to offer assistance on this lonely stretch of road during a storm were slim but to be covered in muck from the ditch would make it an impossibility so I had to clean up a bit first.I found an old Tim Hortons coffee cup and started using it to wash all the mud off my wet weather gear before takling the layers underneath.I must have looked a sight standing barefoot by the side of the road scooping water out of a puddle and then giving myself a bath while a frigid rainstorm raged around me.
Once my rain gear was somewhat clean I set about cleaning my bike and trailer.I figured I better make an attempt at making myself as presentable as possible in order to convince the passing motorists that I wasn't some sort of crazy wild man of the highway.It didn't seem to work though as I stood on the side of the road,thumbing my way suth to Grande Cache for the best part of the next five hours without anyone even slowing down.I must admit I was feeling very disconsulate and no amount of self chatter could lift my spirits as I sat there eating some oats mixed with trail-mix out of the cup I had cleaned myself with.Mixing it all together with puddle water made the whole experience even less joyous.I needed a change of plan.
I had noticed that the traffic heading in the opposite direction,back to Grande Prairie seemed to be increasing and with that town so much closer than Gande Cache I figured I might be a little luckier if I changed tack and headed back from where I came.It worked!After standing on the miserable highway for five hours trying to go one way and then crossing the road for another hour and a bit trying to go the other I finally heard the sound of a truck gearing down as it approached me.I was never happier to see the sight of a line of brakelights in my life and I ran down the road to the truck which had stopped some thirty meters past me and asked for help.The two guys inside asked me if I was okay and when they realised that I was in trouble they got out,picked up all my gear and strapped it down onto the deck of their flatbed truck.Yaaay!
As soon as I hopped in the back of the cab they asked where I wanted to go and where I had come from.They assumed that I had come from the south and was heading north and the driver asked if I was heading to Alaska to ride the ALCAN.I explained that I had already done that and I just was going back to town to dry out and take stock.He then asked if I had been to any of the lodges on the ALCAN and when I said yes,lot's of them he told me that his father owned the Continental Divide Lodge in the Yukon.I laughed and said that I was at that lodge drinking coffee with his father around thirteen days earlier.He couldn't belive it and with that I was given a thermos full of hot coffee and a meatball sub to eat while introductions were made.Brandon,the driver, asked if I was planning to stay in a motel in town and when I said yes he just dismissed that thought and said "you are coming home to stay at my place." Chris,the young passenger laughed and said "Lisa is going to shit when she hears this". With that Brandon picked up his cell phone,called his girlfriend and simply said "I found a hitchhiker on the highway and I'm brining him home to stay."He then hung up and without waiting for a reply and they both spent the next 80 kilometers or so asking me all about my trip as we cruised back to civilization..
What a surreal day!!
The weather had turned unexpectedly for the worse and with the rain came a chilly cold front that had me cursing the fact that I could now see my own breath.What made matters worse was the "dry" road that I had so carefully chosen to camp on was rapidly turing into a muddy quagmire.I found this little fact out when I leant out of the tent and grabbed my trailer for support as I crawled out of my sactuary.It mearly sank into the mud underneath and my heart sank with it.What sort of day would this be and where did this shitty weather come from?I slipped my shoes on and stood up next to my tent to be greeted by a dark grey start to what promised to be a very miserable day.I decided to wait it out for a while and got back inside my tent observing the peculiar sitiation of my shoes having accumulated an inch or so of mud,now attached to the soles.I cursed and crawled back into the still warm sleeping bag hoping that the storm would pass and all would be good in a hour or so.There was nothing for it but to go back to sleep.
About two hours later I must have rolled over in my sleep causing my arm to hit the floor of the tent beside me.The only problem with that was,normally my hand would have quietly rested on a dry nylon tent floor,this time though it hit the cold dampness of my tent with a slap that snapped me into conciousness in an instant.The tent was wet,my blanket was wet and my sleeping bag was about to be next.I jumped over to the other side of the tent and crushed myself against the opposite wall and looked back to see a dirty brown puddle forming where I was just lying.I put my hand into the puddle and found a small stick poking through the floor.It seems that as the rain soaked the ground under my tent my bodyweight had sunk the floor into the mud and onto a sick which had pierced the once sturdy nylon.Oh no,I was now in panic mode!As quickly as I could I grabbled everything and flung it to the far end of the tent which was still dry and then set about stuffing all my clothes into my dry compression bag,stuffing the sleeping bag into it's bag and then into a plastic bag before setting about dealing with the sopping blanket and some of my now soaked clothes.It was all hands on deck and the only saving grace was that the rain had stopped long enough for me to get out of the tent,pack my trailer bag and collapse camp without soaking everything.Thankfully my wet weather gear was performing well and thus far had kept me warm and dry during the frantic evacuation process.
There was nothing left to do but get on the road and ride.Normally I wouldn't go out onto the road in conditions this bad but standing around in the pouring rain,being buffeted by a chilly wind was doing nothing for me so I decided that I might as well get going.The actual proocess of moving was a chore as the thick mud stuck fast to everything and the hundred meteres or so to the highway might as well have been a kilometer given the lenght of time it took to push all my gear through the sticky mess.Once on the road I had to wash down my wheels and brakes so that they would work and then it was off again towards Grande Cache,somewhere off in the blackness of a cold Alberta morning. Looking back I probrably should have stayed in my tent and just patched the leak with some tape but I guess I was in too much of a hurry and didn't listen to the little voice inside my head telling me never to ride during such bad conditions.That decision could very well have cost me more than just a miserable soaking ride in the rain.
I had ridden about 20 kilometers along the hilly highway to nowhere when it happened and it happened so suddenly that it was surreal.I had just ridden up and over a long climb and was starting the speedy coast down the other side trying to control by bike from being blown into the lane by the fierce side wind coming from my right.It was so strong that I had to lean into the wind to keep a straight line but that made me feel very unstable and quite frankly scared as hell.As my speed picked up the noise of the wind and rain was thundering in my ears and I never heard the semi-trailer coming but I surely felt it's presence.As soon as the huge truck past me the wind I had been leaning into was blocked and that,combined with the blast of air from the truck itself made me lose all control and I was blown off the road and sent crashing into the flooded ditch on that lined the highway.Once the full weight of my trailer started down the ditch there was no controlling it and I landed heavilly knocking the wind out of my lungs and and all enthusiasm for the road out of my head.
I don't know how long I lay in the ditch and I don't know if I was knocked out but it seemed and eternity,by my recollection,between crashing and finding myself standing once again on the side of the road,this time however I wasn't just wet,I was also covered in mud.I know that I did take stock to find out if the bike was okay and to check myself out for injury.Luckily we had both escaped major worries and came away with only some scratches and bruises,thank's in part I guess to the soft landing and the number of layers I was wearing to keep out the cold.That cold was starting to eat away at my defences though and I realised that it was time to get out of this bad situation and try to get some help from someone passing by.I did realise though that the chances of someone stopping to offer assistance on this lonely stretch of road during a storm were slim but to be covered in muck from the ditch would make it an impossibility so I had to clean up a bit first.I found an old Tim Hortons coffee cup and started using it to wash all the mud off my wet weather gear before takling the layers underneath.I must have looked a sight standing barefoot by the side of the road scooping water out of a puddle and then giving myself a bath while a frigid rainstorm raged around me.
Once my rain gear was somewhat clean I set about cleaning my bike and trailer.I figured I better make an attempt at making myself as presentable as possible in order to convince the passing motorists that I wasn't some sort of crazy wild man of the highway.It didn't seem to work though as I stood on the side of the road,thumbing my way suth to Grande Cache for the best part of the next five hours without anyone even slowing down.I must admit I was feeling very disconsulate and no amount of self chatter could lift my spirits as I sat there eating some oats mixed with trail-mix out of the cup I had cleaned myself with.Mixing it all together with puddle water made the whole experience even less joyous.I needed a change of plan.
I had noticed that the traffic heading in the opposite direction,back to Grande Prairie seemed to be increasing and with that town so much closer than Gande Cache I figured I might be a little luckier if I changed tack and headed back from where I came.It worked!After standing on the miserable highway for five hours trying to go one way and then crossing the road for another hour and a bit trying to go the other I finally heard the sound of a truck gearing down as it approached me.I was never happier to see the sight of a line of brakelights in my life and I ran down the road to the truck which had stopped some thirty meters past me and asked for help.The two guys inside asked me if I was okay and when they realised that I was in trouble they got out,picked up all my gear and strapped it down onto the deck of their flatbed truck.Yaaay!
As soon as I hopped in the back of the cab they asked where I wanted to go and where I had come from.They assumed that I had come from the south and was heading north and the driver asked if I was heading to Alaska to ride the ALCAN.I explained that I had already done that and I just was going back to town to dry out and take stock.He then asked if I had been to any of the lodges on the ALCAN and when I said yes,lot's of them he told me that his father owned the Continental Divide Lodge in the Yukon.I laughed and said that I was at that lodge drinking coffee with his father around thirteen days earlier.He couldn't belive it and with that I was given a thermos full of hot coffee and a meatball sub to eat while introductions were made.Brandon,the driver, asked if I was planning to stay in a motel in town and when I said yes he just dismissed that thought and said "you are coming home to stay at my place." Chris,the young passenger laughed and said "Lisa is going to shit when she hears this". With that Brandon picked up his cell phone,called his girlfriend and simply said "I found a hitchhiker on the highway and I'm brining him home to stay."He then hung up and without waiting for a reply and they both spent the next 80 kilometers or so asking me all about my trip as we cruised back to civilization..
What a surreal day!!
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Dawson Creek and on the bike again..
The long bus ride to Dawson Creek was pretty un-eventfull but it did give me a chance to see some of Watson Lake and watch the ever-changing scenery as well rolled through the last of the Yukon and into northern British Columbia.I found that my mind was working overtime during that trip and with the passing of each hour more and more thoughts of my trip ending crept into my head.I started to get a bit apprehensive about what lay in store for me once I was back in Penticton and forced to face my ex-girlfriend,her new boyfriend and deal with the realities of what has caused so much pain in my heart over the last two months.I started not to care about Ultraman anymore and just wanted to find somewhere to hide and escape the world.It wasn't a very pleasant night on the highway and I found myself mentally drained by the time the bus reached Dawson Creek.As the bus was scheduled to arrive in the morning it had been my intention to get to a bike shop,fix my wheel and get riding immediately but that plan was tossed out pretty quickly.I didn't have it in me to face the road and after putting my bike and trailer together found the closest bike store and set about fixing the one problem I had some control over.
Once I found the bike store I bought some new tubes,a new tyre and headed off in search of an hotel to stay for the night.I really didn't want to ride anymore and after remembering that the Alpe d'Huez Stage of the Tour de France was on the next morning was content with another night delay.As I said, my enthusiasm was waning and so any excuse was a good one at that point.I did manage to get a bunch of shopping in though and re-supplied myself with food and a new sleeping bag for the remainer of my trip.My mood did improve as the day wore on and after another day and night of decent food and a couple of scalding hot baths to awaken the senses,I found myself up,caffeinated and anxiously waiting for the 5am start to the coverage of the worlds most famous bicycle race.I don't know what it was but after watching the "Tour" that morning I was full of energy and ready to ride and ride I did,in a big way!
I started my ride that day quite late as a result of waiting for the "Tour" to finish but quickly made up for lost time as a peddalled down the highway at a rate of knots.All that rest must have done me the world of good as my average speed was hitting an all time high for the trip and I was cruiseing along the flat stretches at a speed just under what I would normally consider my "race pace" and I was dragging a 30 kilo trailer!Could it be that the delays were actually helping me?I guess so,as it must have been allowing me to recover and become stronger.Whatever was happening,I was flying!
Once I left the rough gravel strewn roads of British Columbia and crossed into Alberta my mood( and my pace) went from happy to downright joyous as I was soon riding on nice smooth roads,in a breakdown lane all to myself.The ever-increasing tailwind helped and the miles rolled under my wheels with ease.It was bizzare to be hitting speeds up to ten kilometers and hour faster than I had been able to peddle a few short weeks before and I was riding along in a happy daze.Just as well that I was happy about somthing as the ride itself was pretty damn boring.For the first time I was riding through an agricultural belt and the monotonous farmland lined the straight highway that stretched on to the distant horizon.God it was dull ,but after some 130 kilometers I finally crested a hill that presented me with a view of my mid afternoon rest stop,the town of Grand Prairie!
I rolled trough the outskirts of town and soon became overwhealmed by the traffic that was now flying by me in all directions.It was quite the shock back into the realities of life in the big city and I quickly sought refuge in coffee shop which was conveniently located near the junction of Hwy2 which I had ridden in on and Hwy 40 which would take me south toward Grande Cache 188 kilometers and another days ride away.
Once I had my sweaty self parked firmly in a comfy chair in the coffee shop I figured I should refill my water bottles and my Camelback and went outside to collect the four bottles that are attached to my bike and trailer.The weird thing was two of them were still full and when I checked my Camelback I found it to be still half full.It was then I realised just why I had been a little hazy over the last couple of hours.I had ridden all the way from Dawson Creek in around five hours and only consumed 750ml of coke,750ml of Slimfast mix and maybe a litre of water.I was amazed that I didn't fall apart on the highway and was pretty impressed with myself even though it was a stupid thing to do.I then spent the next hour consuming as much food and fluids as possible as I knew that the next section of my ride would be the most isolated of my entire trip,the 188 kilometes to Grande Cache.
After my extended stop in Grand Prairie I hopped on the bike and headed south on Highway 40 for what I figured would be an easy hour or so to take my total distance for the day to around 150 kilometers.What actually happened was I rode on for another 50 kilometers of long rolling hills before spending an hour or so looking for a suitable site to camp for the night.It was obvious to me that there had been all kinds of recent rain in the area as the roadside was very wet and there was standing water everywhere.I rode down four or five muddy side-roads in search of dry ground and was beginning to get very frustrated(and hungry) before finally settling for a spot a short distance down a road that seemed the least wet of all the ones around.I had to put my tent on the road itself but figured that the chances of someone driving down this road to check the gas well at the dead end around 400 meters away were pretty slim so within ten minutes my tent was up and I was set for the night.I had covered 189 kilometers for the day and was feeling great both physically and mentally and set about fixing myself dinner full of enthusiasm for the next days 130k morning ride to Grande Cahche.With only four more days of riding left I was really starting to dread my time on the road coming to an end.That night though,I was too sleepy to worry too about all that stuff and I slipped into my new $21 Walmart sleeping bag hoping like hell that the added insulation would finally afford me a nice comfy and warm night sleep.
Once I found the bike store I bought some new tubes,a new tyre and headed off in search of an hotel to stay for the night.I really didn't want to ride anymore and after remembering that the Alpe d'Huez Stage of the Tour de France was on the next morning was content with another night delay.As I said, my enthusiasm was waning and so any excuse was a good one at that point.I did manage to get a bunch of shopping in though and re-supplied myself with food and a new sleeping bag for the remainer of my trip.My mood did improve as the day wore on and after another day and night of decent food and a couple of scalding hot baths to awaken the senses,I found myself up,caffeinated and anxiously waiting for the 5am start to the coverage of the worlds most famous bicycle race.I don't know what it was but after watching the "Tour" that morning I was full of energy and ready to ride and ride I did,in a big way!
I started my ride that day quite late as a result of waiting for the "Tour" to finish but quickly made up for lost time as a peddalled down the highway at a rate of knots.All that rest must have done me the world of good as my average speed was hitting an all time high for the trip and I was cruiseing along the flat stretches at a speed just under what I would normally consider my "race pace" and I was dragging a 30 kilo trailer!Could it be that the delays were actually helping me?I guess so,as it must have been allowing me to recover and become stronger.Whatever was happening,I was flying!
Once I left the rough gravel strewn roads of British Columbia and crossed into Alberta my mood( and my pace) went from happy to downright joyous as I was soon riding on nice smooth roads,in a breakdown lane all to myself.The ever-increasing tailwind helped and the miles rolled under my wheels with ease.It was bizzare to be hitting speeds up to ten kilometers and hour faster than I had been able to peddle a few short weeks before and I was riding along in a happy daze.Just as well that I was happy about somthing as the ride itself was pretty damn boring.For the first time I was riding through an agricultural belt and the monotonous farmland lined the straight highway that stretched on to the distant horizon.God it was dull ,but after some 130 kilometers I finally crested a hill that presented me with a view of my mid afternoon rest stop,the town of Grand Prairie!
I rolled trough the outskirts of town and soon became overwhealmed by the traffic that was now flying by me in all directions.It was quite the shock back into the realities of life in the big city and I quickly sought refuge in coffee shop which was conveniently located near the junction of Hwy2 which I had ridden in on and Hwy 40 which would take me south toward Grande Cache 188 kilometers and another days ride away.
Once I had my sweaty self parked firmly in a comfy chair in the coffee shop I figured I should refill my water bottles and my Camelback and went outside to collect the four bottles that are attached to my bike and trailer.The weird thing was two of them were still full and when I checked my Camelback I found it to be still half full.It was then I realised just why I had been a little hazy over the last couple of hours.I had ridden all the way from Dawson Creek in around five hours and only consumed 750ml of coke,750ml of Slimfast mix and maybe a litre of water.I was amazed that I didn't fall apart on the highway and was pretty impressed with myself even though it was a stupid thing to do.I then spent the next hour consuming as much food and fluids as possible as I knew that the next section of my ride would be the most isolated of my entire trip,the 188 kilometes to Grande Cache.
After my extended stop in Grand Prairie I hopped on the bike and headed south on Highway 40 for what I figured would be an easy hour or so to take my total distance for the day to around 150 kilometers.What actually happened was I rode on for another 50 kilometers of long rolling hills before spending an hour or so looking for a suitable site to camp for the night.It was obvious to me that there had been all kinds of recent rain in the area as the roadside was very wet and there was standing water everywhere.I rode down four or five muddy side-roads in search of dry ground and was beginning to get very frustrated(and hungry) before finally settling for a spot a short distance down a road that seemed the least wet of all the ones around.I had to put my tent on the road itself but figured that the chances of someone driving down this road to check the gas well at the dead end around 400 meters away were pretty slim so within ten minutes my tent was up and I was set for the night.I had covered 189 kilometers for the day and was feeling great both physically and mentally and set about fixing myself dinner full of enthusiasm for the next days 130k morning ride to Grande Cahche.With only four more days of riding left I was really starting to dread my time on the road coming to an end.That night though,I was too sleepy to worry too about all that stuff and I slipped into my new $21 Walmart sleeping bag hoping like hell that the added insulation would finally afford me a nice comfy and warm night sleep.
Waiting to escape..
I couldn't believe that the Greyhound would just drive by me like they did and I left all my stuff on the side of the highway,walked into the lodge and picked up the phone.I called Greyhound Canada(who were the ones that told me the damn bus would stop)and they told me to call the Watson Lake depot.I called Watson Lake and they simply said that they did not work for Greyhound and that it wasn't their problem.Fuck!!I told them that I was now stuck for another two days until the next one came along and she just said that is the way it is and hung up.Man Greyhound Canada sucks big time!!
Linda came up to me and asked what I wanted to do and I told her that I may as well stay with them again and she told me that my room hadn't been touched yet and I could just roll my stuff back in and come back for a beer.I know that she felt really bad about what had happened to me but not as bad as I felt when Jack decided to pay for a room for the night and right in front of me she charged him four times the price I had paid.I kept my mouth shut.
The next two days were spent hanging out chatting to all the travellers as they passed through while I rested in between run and swim workouts.I was reall happy that I could run without pain but a few hours later my knee started hurting again and I was now resigning myself to the possiblity of day three at Ultraman being a really painfull day.I didn't really want to consider the damage I may have already done to my knee and just how bad it will be after the 84 kilometer run that finishes off the event.Not having done any actual swimming since the Challenge Cairns Ironman distance race seven weeks before didn't really worry me as I've done the Ultraman swim with no training before and I was sure that the dry-land swim workouts would help.It would make for a great experiment if nothing else.
Even though I was enjoying my stay at Rancheria,I did start to have some pretty low moments during the next day and after going for my morning run/walk in the woods,hid myself away in my room and watched a few movies to take my mind off all the stuff that I didn't want to think about.It was a really frustrating time for me as I was really getting sick of being delayed by outside influences all the while knowing that it is during the down times that I have time to think about the negative stuff in my life.It is a a huge Catch-22 situation because I know full well that it is my depression that holds me up and delays my progress most of the time but it is that vey down time that allows me to dwell on the stuff that causes me to become really blue and that shuts me down even more.Sometimes it is a monumental task to drag myself out of wherever I'm hidden away and deal with the real world.That evening I forced myself out of the door and back to the lodge where I knew I would be surrounded by people who would be intterested in my trip.That always seemed to cheer me up and hanging out with the ladies from the lodge that night proved just the tonic I needed.They were all so nice and so interesed in my trip and the crazy event that I was heading to Penticton to do.
My last day at Rancheria was a slow one but eventually the time came when it was time for me to leave.I had just had a huge plate of food and was floored once again when I searched out Linda to settle my account.She asked my what I had eaten and charge me $15:45 for the meal,coffee and a couple of snacks I took for the ride.I was really confused and said "there is my room as well,it should be a lot more than that".She just said "don't worry about it,it has been a pleasure having you here and we are going to miss you".Yet again I was speechless!The bus did ,as promised,stop and I loaded all my gear into the trailer among all the freight.I was touched when all the ladies who worked there lined up in the driveway and said their goodbyes with one of them yelling "Now go kick some ass in Ultraman".What had I done to deserve such generosity?I watched them all waving as the bus pulled away and was very sad to be leaving that safe little lodge in the middle of nowhere and as I write this there are tears in my eyes at the memory of that grand experience.
Linda came up to me and asked what I wanted to do and I told her that I may as well stay with them again and she told me that my room hadn't been touched yet and I could just roll my stuff back in and come back for a beer.I know that she felt really bad about what had happened to me but not as bad as I felt when Jack decided to pay for a room for the night and right in front of me she charged him four times the price I had paid.I kept my mouth shut.
The next two days were spent hanging out chatting to all the travellers as they passed through while I rested in between run and swim workouts.I was reall happy that I could run without pain but a few hours later my knee started hurting again and I was now resigning myself to the possiblity of day three at Ultraman being a really painfull day.I didn't really want to consider the damage I may have already done to my knee and just how bad it will be after the 84 kilometer run that finishes off the event.Not having done any actual swimming since the Challenge Cairns Ironman distance race seven weeks before didn't really worry me as I've done the Ultraman swim with no training before and I was sure that the dry-land swim workouts would help.It would make for a great experiment if nothing else.
Even though I was enjoying my stay at Rancheria,I did start to have some pretty low moments during the next day and after going for my morning run/walk in the woods,hid myself away in my room and watched a few movies to take my mind off all the stuff that I didn't want to think about.It was a really frustrating time for me as I was really getting sick of being delayed by outside influences all the while knowing that it is during the down times that I have time to think about the negative stuff in my life.It is a a huge Catch-22 situation because I know full well that it is my depression that holds me up and delays my progress most of the time but it is that vey down time that allows me to dwell on the stuff that causes me to become really blue and that shuts me down even more.Sometimes it is a monumental task to drag myself out of wherever I'm hidden away and deal with the real world.That evening I forced myself out of the door and back to the lodge where I knew I would be surrounded by people who would be intterested in my trip.That always seemed to cheer me up and hanging out with the ladies from the lodge that night proved just the tonic I needed.They were all so nice and so interesed in my trip and the crazy event that I was heading to Penticton to do.
My last day at Rancheria was a slow one but eventually the time came when it was time for me to leave.I had just had a huge plate of food and was floored once again when I searched out Linda to settle my account.She asked my what I had eaten and charge me $15:45 for the meal,coffee and a couple of snacks I took for the ride.I was really confused and said "there is my room as well,it should be a lot more than that".She just said "don't worry about it,it has been a pleasure having you here and we are going to miss you".Yet again I was speechless!The bus did ,as promised,stop and I loaded all my gear into the trailer among all the freight.I was touched when all the ladies who worked there lined up in the driveway and said their goodbyes with one of them yelling "Now go kick some ass in Ultraman".What had I done to deserve such generosity?I watched them all waving as the bus pulled away and was very sad to be leaving that safe little lodge in the middle of nowhere and as I write this there are tears in my eyes at the memory of that grand experience.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Flat out in Rancheria..
That night was a weird one because firstly I went to bed pissed off and uspet about what the people at the van park obviously thought of me but also because of the gazillion bugs that had made their way into my tent during my absence.The little buggers weren't all that agressive nor were trying to eat me alive but man were they annoying,crawling all over me they way they were.It seems that the mesh of my tent was just a little too widely spaced to keep the little critters out and they came and went as they pleased.To combat the situation all I could do was put on my tights,long sleeve top,balaclava and gloves which left nothing uncovered and the bugs no longer a worry.
The next morning I was all psyched to get going and at 6:30am I was in the restaurant having a coffee and studying the map of the route that would take me the 130 kilometers to Watson Lake by just after mid-day that day.I swallowed my coffee,said my goodbyes to the folks at the lodge and rolled out into the fog that was shrouding the mountains around me.Not to worry though as it wasn't that thick and it did show promise of breaking up in the not too distant future.
I quickly climbed the only hill I had to face that morning and began the long descent down the other side of the great divide.At this rate I would be in Watson Lake by lunch and my mood was brightening morre every minute.I sped through the first 18 kilometers like it was nothing and reached Racheria Lodge around 7:45 am but that was all for nothing as the familiar feeling under my saddle hit me again.The unmistakeable rumble of a tyre without any air.Damn!!I pulled over and slowy rode the short few hundred meters through past the campground entrance and on to the restaurant and stopped to survey the wheel.First though it was inside for a take out coffee to get me through the wheel fixing process.Can't keep a devout addict down!
I changed the tube and patched the old one but it became obvious that these tubes were all pretty much shot and any more punctures and it would be all over red rover until I bought some new ones and finally figured out what was wrong.It didn't take long to change the tyre and drink my coffee and I was soon off again riding along the gradual downhill that follows the Rancheria River towards Watson Lake.It was a great ride and the kilometers were ticking along nicely for the next two hours until the inevitable happened,yet another flat.That was it,I was done!There was no point going on like this and so I stuck the thumb out and started hitching.
I stood on the side of the highway for about ninety minutes before someone pulled over but the problem was he was going in the wrong direction.The good thing was that he was the roadworker that I had met a few days earlier when my trouble with my tyres had just begun.It had started to rain and although he wasn't going to Watson lake he would take me back to Rancheria Lodge where I would at least have shelter and a chance at a ride.I gave up and agreed and so by lunch I was back where I was around breakfast time.This time,there was no choice,I needed a ride.
I went into the lodge and ordered some lunch and then went about making enquiries about rides to Watson Lake.The general consesus was that I had little chance of hitching in this weather but I was determined and after lunch headed out onto the highway and tried my luck.After an hour or so I went back inside to get out of the rain and the lodge co-owner Linda asked me if I wanted a room for the night.After spending the last week camping in the rain I said yes and she gave me some keys and showed me to my room.I asked her what the rate was and she smiled and said we have special rates for some cyclists and told me to worry about that in the morning.The first thing I did was have a nice long,hot bath.It was bliss!!
After handwashing all my bike gear and hanging it up near the radiator I went over to the lounge and set up my laptop and got to work again on my blog ( this bloody thing takes work folks!!!!).I uploaded a bunch of photo's to Facebook and wrote some more of my blog before the guys from around the lodge stopped work for the day.They bought me a beer and we started chatting away about my trip and what it was like riding the ALCAN.Pretty soon we were joined by a trucker and two young backpackers who he had picked up at Laird Hot Springs erlier that day.Our little group grew and so did the laughter as we all solved the worlds problems one by one.The classic was when a girl from the National Census Dept came in and aske for Dennis the lodge owner and Lindas'husband,he pointed straight at me and said "that is Dennis".She laughed and said,"I know that isn't Dennis"and turned her attention back to him."If you know that he isn't Dennis" he barked " and you obviously know that I am then why don't you fill out the damn form yourself?" and then it went all to hell.The poor girl didn't know what hit her after he launched into a tirade about government watchdogs and big brother and all that,I thought it was pretty funny as some of the stuff he was coming out with was so backward that I figured he must play the banjo with his brothers by the river in his spare time.Holy cow he was a hillbilly but a damn funny one.
The census girl gave up and told him that it was compulsory for him to fill it in and that someone would be back again and again until he did and with that she left.He looked at me and asked if I thought he had been too harsh and I said "Mate, you could at least have given her a drink for her trouble"and he asked "why would I give her a drink?"to which I simply replied "because the beers would taste a damn sight better if we were drinking them with a cute chick like her around than having nothing but your ugly mugs to look at".The rest of the guys fell apart laughing and Dennis got me a beer from the fridge and handed it to me saying "man I gotta get me down to Australia!"It was a classic evening with some very funny,uncomplicated,hardworking people and I loved hanging out with them,even if it was only for a couple of hours.These days though, three or four beers is a big night so it was off to the room for me.A nice warm bed and twenty satellite movie channels were waiting.
The next morning it was off up the highway for a quick run and a reminder that my knee was still trashed before heading back for a hot bath followed by a coffee.Linda told me that I might as well catch the bus and I agreed.I did some calculations and with the help of Yahoo Maps decided that as time was running out and that I would catch the bus to Dawson Creek which would leave me only 780 kilometers to ride between the 19th and the 25th which would mean three full days off before being picked up by my crew in Lake Louise on the 28th and driven to Penticton.No worries,so I called Greyhound and confirmed that they would be stopping that afternoon around 5:55 and that they would have no problems with my bike.Excellent,so now it was back to my room to pack and sneak another movie in before checkout.
At around noon I emerged from my room and continued with some blogging and had some lunch afterwhich I wanted to settle my tab with Linda,Shhe charged me the full price for lunch but when I asked about the room she just wondered out loud to herself "Mmm,how much should we charge you? How about $20?".I was stunned!The rack rate for her rooms is $80 but she just told me not to worry and that it was her plaesure.Man what could I say but "thank you so much".Country kindness at it's very best!!
I went back into the lounge and within ten minutes who should I see walk throught the restaurant doors but old Jack himself looking just a little bit trimmer than I had seen him last,over 800 kilometers before.I got stariaght up and gave him a big hug and told him to join me in the lounge while I waited to hop the bus out of there.He did just that and we caught up on all the gossip of each others trips and just as we thought we couldn't talk about the road anymore two young German cyclists walked through the door to join us.This young couple knew Jack and had met some of the others down the road and surprisingly had heard aout me as well.We passed the next couple of hours chatting and drinking beer that Jack kindly bought and all the while I kept my eye on my watch.Linda had tld me that the bus would stop and that they drivers used this place as a smoke break stop but I was concerned after my last bus stranding incident and went outside to watch the highway for the approaching coach.I saw it alright,I saw it as it drove straight past the lodge,straight past me and straight down the highway towards Watson Lake.You have to be fucking kidding me,I was stuck again!!
The next morning I was all psyched to get going and at 6:30am I was in the restaurant having a coffee and studying the map of the route that would take me the 130 kilometers to Watson Lake by just after mid-day that day.I swallowed my coffee,said my goodbyes to the folks at the lodge and rolled out into the fog that was shrouding the mountains around me.Not to worry though as it wasn't that thick and it did show promise of breaking up in the not too distant future.
I quickly climbed the only hill I had to face that morning and began the long descent down the other side of the great divide.At this rate I would be in Watson Lake by lunch and my mood was brightening morre every minute.I sped through the first 18 kilometers like it was nothing and reached Racheria Lodge around 7:45 am but that was all for nothing as the familiar feeling under my saddle hit me again.The unmistakeable rumble of a tyre without any air.Damn!!I pulled over and slowy rode the short few hundred meters through past the campground entrance and on to the restaurant and stopped to survey the wheel.First though it was inside for a take out coffee to get me through the wheel fixing process.Can't keep a devout addict down!
I changed the tube and patched the old one but it became obvious that these tubes were all pretty much shot and any more punctures and it would be all over red rover until I bought some new ones and finally figured out what was wrong.It didn't take long to change the tyre and drink my coffee and I was soon off again riding along the gradual downhill that follows the Rancheria River towards Watson Lake.It was a great ride and the kilometers were ticking along nicely for the next two hours until the inevitable happened,yet another flat.That was it,I was done!There was no point going on like this and so I stuck the thumb out and started hitching.
I stood on the side of the highway for about ninety minutes before someone pulled over but the problem was he was going in the wrong direction.The good thing was that he was the roadworker that I had met a few days earlier when my trouble with my tyres had just begun.It had started to rain and although he wasn't going to Watson lake he would take me back to Rancheria Lodge where I would at least have shelter and a chance at a ride.I gave up and agreed and so by lunch I was back where I was around breakfast time.This time,there was no choice,I needed a ride.
I went into the lodge and ordered some lunch and then went about making enquiries about rides to Watson Lake.The general consesus was that I had little chance of hitching in this weather but I was determined and after lunch headed out onto the highway and tried my luck.After an hour or so I went back inside to get out of the rain and the lodge co-owner Linda asked me if I wanted a room for the night.After spending the last week camping in the rain I said yes and she gave me some keys and showed me to my room.I asked her what the rate was and she smiled and said we have special rates for some cyclists and told me to worry about that in the morning.The first thing I did was have a nice long,hot bath.It was bliss!!
After handwashing all my bike gear and hanging it up near the radiator I went over to the lounge and set up my laptop and got to work again on my blog ( this bloody thing takes work folks!!!!).I uploaded a bunch of photo's to Facebook and wrote some more of my blog before the guys from around the lodge stopped work for the day.They bought me a beer and we started chatting away about my trip and what it was like riding the ALCAN.Pretty soon we were joined by a trucker and two young backpackers who he had picked up at Laird Hot Springs erlier that day.Our little group grew and so did the laughter as we all solved the worlds problems one by one.The classic was when a girl from the National Census Dept came in and aske for Dennis the lodge owner and Lindas'husband,he pointed straight at me and said "that is Dennis".She laughed and said,"I know that isn't Dennis"and turned her attention back to him."If you know that he isn't Dennis" he barked " and you obviously know that I am then why don't you fill out the damn form yourself?" and then it went all to hell.The poor girl didn't know what hit her after he launched into a tirade about government watchdogs and big brother and all that,I thought it was pretty funny as some of the stuff he was coming out with was so backward that I figured he must play the banjo with his brothers by the river in his spare time.Holy cow he was a hillbilly but a damn funny one.
The census girl gave up and told him that it was compulsory for him to fill it in and that someone would be back again and again until he did and with that she left.He looked at me and asked if I thought he had been too harsh and I said "Mate, you could at least have given her a drink for her trouble"and he asked "why would I give her a drink?"to which I simply replied "because the beers would taste a damn sight better if we were drinking them with a cute chick like her around than having nothing but your ugly mugs to look at".The rest of the guys fell apart laughing and Dennis got me a beer from the fridge and handed it to me saying "man I gotta get me down to Australia!"It was a classic evening with some very funny,uncomplicated,hardworking people and I loved hanging out with them,even if it was only for a couple of hours.These days though, three or four beers is a big night so it was off to the room for me.A nice warm bed and twenty satellite movie channels were waiting.
The next morning it was off up the highway for a quick run and a reminder that my knee was still trashed before heading back for a hot bath followed by a coffee.Linda told me that I might as well catch the bus and I agreed.I did some calculations and with the help of Yahoo Maps decided that as time was running out and that I would catch the bus to Dawson Creek which would leave me only 780 kilometers to ride between the 19th and the 25th which would mean three full days off before being picked up by my crew in Lake Louise on the 28th and driven to Penticton.No worries,so I called Greyhound and confirmed that they would be stopping that afternoon around 5:55 and that they would have no problems with my bike.Excellent,so now it was back to my room to pack and sneak another movie in before checkout.
At around noon I emerged from my room and continued with some blogging and had some lunch afterwhich I wanted to settle my tab with Linda,Shhe charged me the full price for lunch but when I asked about the room she just wondered out loud to herself "Mmm,how much should we charge you? How about $20?".I was stunned!The rack rate for her rooms is $80 but she just told me not to worry and that it was her plaesure.Man what could I say but "thank you so much".Country kindness at it's very best!!
I went back into the lounge and within ten minutes who should I see walk throught the restaurant doors but old Jack himself looking just a little bit trimmer than I had seen him last,over 800 kilometers before.I got stariaght up and gave him a big hug and told him to join me in the lounge while I waited to hop the bus out of there.He did just that and we caught up on all the gossip of each others trips and just as we thought we couldn't talk about the road anymore two young German cyclists walked through the door to join us.This young couple knew Jack and had met some of the others down the road and surprisingly had heard aout me as well.We passed the next couple of hours chatting and drinking beer that Jack kindly bought and all the while I kept my eye on my watch.Linda had tld me that the bus would stop and that they drivers used this place as a smoke break stop but I was concerned after my last bus stranding incident and went outside to watch the highway for the approaching coach.I saw it alright,I saw it as it drove straight past the lodge,straight past me and straight down the highway towards Watson Lake.You have to be fucking kidding me,I was stuck again!!
On top of the Great Divide..
The rest of that evening at the Great Divide Lodge was spent socialising,waiting for a chance to have a hot shower and watching the boys cook themselves some dinner.One major event on the schedule though was the unofficial Great Divide Beach Volleyball Championships which was played with so much gusto that it rendered our nice hot, cleansing showers totally useless.Sadly for us the beach part of the volleyball court had closer resemblance to a dustbowl than that of Copacabana Beach but no matter we sacrificed cleanliness for the cause.The dust and dirt got in eveything and I even had to retire one pair of my beloved Injinji toe socks to the garbage as they were now well beyond anything close to hygenic rescue.
That nights sleep was pleasant and warmer than the last few but it was the sound of raindrops on my tarp that made me wonder just how far I would get that day.I woke at my usual 4am and promptly went back to sleep for another two hours while I waited for the weather to make up its mind.At 6am I emerged from nylon cocoon and went of a walk run along the highway to fill in the time until the restaurant opened and I could have my coffee fix for the morning.At 7am I was sat firmly at a table in the restaurant full of amusement at the firemaking skills of one of the girls who worked there.I watched her load a few big logs into the large potbelly stove sitting to one side of the room and wondered how she was going to light the damned thing without and paper or kindling.She soon solved that mystery when she left the room and came back holding a propane tank with a huge blowtorch attached.One flick of the ligher and away she went,those logs were toast."Instant Indian" she said and laughed as she walked away with the fire blazing behind her..
As the morning wore on the cyclists joined me in dribs and drabs until around 11am when the room was full of chilled cyclotourists escaping the dreadfull weather that had presented itself to us.I knew there was no bloody way I was going out in that squall and my decision was set in stone when the two Swiss,the Greman couple and English Brian rode up to the lodge and joined us looking like drowned rats.The mood among the toasty warm rabble who had camped that night with me turned to a sad resignation that they were in for a shitty day out on the highway and one by one the herd thinned in the restaurant as each individual and then each group summoned the courage to face the worst weather I'd seen on this trip.
I sat in the restaurant for most of the day chatting and writing in my blog and then set about doing some more research into the offending rear wheel that had caused me so much trouble.For the life of me I couldn't work it out but I had four tubes hanging on a tree that were now fully inflated and ready for service as well as the one in the rear tyre that was holding firm to the touch.Now maybe all would be well and I would be in Watson Lake at the end of the next day in time to catch up to the guys in front of me.In two days they would make their turn down the Cassiar Hwy and away from my chosen path which was down the ALCAN down to Dawson Creek,chances are I would never see any of them again after that.
One sad and frustrating turn of events happened during my stay on the second night at Continental Divide.After fixing my wheel I set about making a nice warm fire and was taking some photos when a young girl of about ten years approached the community woodpile that was very close to where I was camped and as soon as she said hello to me her mother called her away.The same thing happened with the young daughter of a guy camping nearby and again with two boys who were playing in the campground area where I was camped alone.I thought,what the hell is wrong with me?I know those of you who ae parents will say that they were being protective but really,am I guilty until proven innocent just because I am male?That is just not fair!Would the same assumption be made of me if I were female or as part of a couple or a group?It is just bullshit and something that I really hate as it has happened to me a few times before.I know it shouldn't bother me but it just does and it really gets to me every time.As a result I went to bed feeling very down and dejected and a shadow had been cast over what was otherwise a pretty great day..
That nights sleep was pleasant and warmer than the last few but it was the sound of raindrops on my tarp that made me wonder just how far I would get that day.I woke at my usual 4am and promptly went back to sleep for another two hours while I waited for the weather to make up its mind.At 6am I emerged from nylon cocoon and went of a walk run along the highway to fill in the time until the restaurant opened and I could have my coffee fix for the morning.At 7am I was sat firmly at a table in the restaurant full of amusement at the firemaking skills of one of the girls who worked there.I watched her load a few big logs into the large potbelly stove sitting to one side of the room and wondered how she was going to light the damned thing without and paper or kindling.She soon solved that mystery when she left the room and came back holding a propane tank with a huge blowtorch attached.One flick of the ligher and away she went,those logs were toast."Instant Indian" she said and laughed as she walked away with the fire blazing behind her..
As the morning wore on the cyclists joined me in dribs and drabs until around 11am when the room was full of chilled cyclotourists escaping the dreadfull weather that had presented itself to us.I knew there was no bloody way I was going out in that squall and my decision was set in stone when the two Swiss,the Greman couple and English Brian rode up to the lodge and joined us looking like drowned rats.The mood among the toasty warm rabble who had camped that night with me turned to a sad resignation that they were in for a shitty day out on the highway and one by one the herd thinned in the restaurant as each individual and then each group summoned the courage to face the worst weather I'd seen on this trip.
I sat in the restaurant for most of the day chatting and writing in my blog and then set about doing some more research into the offending rear wheel that had caused me so much trouble.For the life of me I couldn't work it out but I had four tubes hanging on a tree that were now fully inflated and ready for service as well as the one in the rear tyre that was holding firm to the touch.Now maybe all would be well and I would be in Watson Lake at the end of the next day in time to catch up to the guys in front of me.In two days they would make their turn down the Cassiar Hwy and away from my chosen path which was down the ALCAN down to Dawson Creek,chances are I would never see any of them again after that.
One sad and frustrating turn of events happened during my stay on the second night at Continental Divide.After fixing my wheel I set about making a nice warm fire and was taking some photos when a young girl of about ten years approached the community woodpile that was very close to where I was camped and as soon as she said hello to me her mother called her away.The same thing happened with the young daughter of a guy camping nearby and again with two boys who were playing in the campground area where I was camped alone.I thought,what the hell is wrong with me?I know those of you who ae parents will say that they were being protective but really,am I guilty until proven innocent just because I am male?That is just not fair!Would the same assumption be made of me if I were female or as part of a couple or a group?It is just bullshit and something that I really hate as it has happened to me a few times before.I know it shouldn't bother me but it just does and it really gets to me every time.As a result I went to bed feeling very down and dejected and a shadow had been cast over what was otherwise a pretty great day..
A very frustrating day to the Divide!!
I awoke the next morning dawned to blues skies above and a bright sun shining through the thin mist hovering above the lake.There was a distict smell of smoke in the air and off into the distant west I could see a plume of smoke rising from the lakeside forest.I was in no doubt that the fire had been started by the previous nights storm and my guess was confimed by the assembled mass of firefighting humanity that jammed the motel restaurant.The place was overflowing with tired looking men dressed in fithy,ash-stained overalls ravenously inhaling anything edible that was placed in front of them.The placed smelled like an old untened hearth and I could almost taste the charcoal in the air.
It turns out that these men had just ended a shift quelling one of the many fires that had started overnight and were having a well earned breakfast break before heading out to contain the fire that I could see across the lake from town.It would be another full days work in the woods until they were expected to be done and back working again at their real jobs but for the moment their lives were on hold until the danger was past.It was very cool to see these guys just dropping everything for the sake of the town and equally cool to see how the appreciation the management and staff had for these ordinary guys who were just doing what needed to be done.I felt kind of small and insignificant comapred to these guys and envied the sense of community that they had.
Once they firefighters had left in their convoy of trucks I sat down to breakfast and watched the remaining minutes of that days stage of the Tour de Fance before going back to my camp to see how eveything was drying out.Really all I needed to worry about was my tarp and some clothes but it gave me a chance to do some work on my bike and get it ready for the 140 kilometer day that I had planned.It was my intention to ride up and over the Great Divide and camp that night at Racheria Creek Lodge which would leave me an easy 120 kilometers to ride the next morning to Watson Lake.This was kind of the plan I had heard from the others already further down the road so I was hoping that we would all end up in the same place together.
The Korean was the first out of the starting blocks that day followed by John then myself and the Swiss.For me it was a chance to have some fun and try to catch those guys who had camped further up the road.I figured that it would be a pretty easy task and catching John easily after the first long climb out of Teslin showed me that my riding was getting stronger,my bike however had other ideas.Almost as soon as I passed john I got my first flat of the day.He stopped to help but I waived him on telling him that I would be fine and went about fixing the offending tyre.With the tyre fixed I was off again,in hot pursuit of the peleton I felt was riding up the road before me.
The next hour or so passed without incident but I was wondering where John was.I was riding very hard and fast and hadn't seen him at all which I though odd.Before I could come up with a plausible reason.I saw,climbing a hill ahead of me,four cyclists.They were lumbering up the steep hill like a quartet of small elephants,totally loaded down and wobbling in an ungainly manner up the road.I caught up to them very quickly and sat up for a chat as I passed first the young German couple and then Brian.Just as I told them I would meet them at the top my tyre blew for the second time.Damn!!
The three cyclists all stopped and chatted while I unhitched my trailer and took my rear wheel off.They told me that th Korean was just ahead and I said that I would be fine and that they should ride on and I'd see them a little later on.With that they wished me well and I went about fixing my tyre,again.
Back on the road again I made great time and was soon wondering where everyone was.I had not passed the Greman nor the Englishman Brian but was now closing fast on a very tired looking Korean.I blew by him with a wave and soon passed a sign that told me I was crossing into British Columbia.I knew we would duck into BC for a few kilometers that day and knew exactly where I was and even with my two flats was looking forward to maing it to Rancheria Creek by around 3pm.That was until my third flat.
I was getting pretty frustrated by this time as the flats were not caused by road debris but by something wrong with my wheels rim.All the punctures were on the underside of the tubes and for the life of me I could not find the cause.I laid new tape on the inside of the rim and put in a new tube hopefull that the problems were done for the day but about two kilometers up the road it happend again.This time I pulled completely off the side of the highway and went about overhauling my rear wheel and having a little tyre patching party on the side of the road.It was at that stage that Pierre passed me and asked if I was okay.He told me that everyone was behind me and that they were al thinking of stopping at Continental Divide due to the late start.I said I'd meet him there and off he went while I finished my repair duties.
On the road again and I was a happy for about twenty minutes when my fourth flat of the day stopped me.I repeated the process and then a further four kilometers away a fifth and then a sixth.By this time I'd had enough and stopped for a late lunch during which time the Mexicans and Andy passed me.During repairs to my seventh flat,the Korean and old John passed me and I was at the point of no loner caring about the flats,it was too much of a joke.I hung out,ate some food,chatted to a nice roadworker who stopped to see if I was okay and generally killed time walking around in the woods.I had to get going though and thankfully I found a tyre that would hold.I pushed hard those next thirty kilometers and started passing everyone again until I met up with a couple of the guys at Swift River who convinced me to keep riding until Continental Divide.I didn't want to ride anymore as the day had drained the enthusiasm out of me but hey insisted and I'm glad they did.The next 20 kilometers flew by and before I knew it I was rolling up to The Continental Divide Lodge to greet the three Mexicans who had arrived before me.This was it for the day,time to make camp.
First though I needed to eat and quickly went into the restaurant to order with five minute to spare before closing.I was given an awesome beef stew which lasted all of one minute before downing a very cold can of ginger ale which topped me off nicely.The lady in the restaurant could not believe how quickly I finished dinner but what I couldn't belive was that when I went outside to ride my bike over to the camping area I found waiting for me yet another flat tyre...WTF!!!
It turns out that these men had just ended a shift quelling one of the many fires that had started overnight and were having a well earned breakfast break before heading out to contain the fire that I could see across the lake from town.It would be another full days work in the woods until they were expected to be done and back working again at their real jobs but for the moment their lives were on hold until the danger was past.It was very cool to see these guys just dropping everything for the sake of the town and equally cool to see how the appreciation the management and staff had for these ordinary guys who were just doing what needed to be done.I felt kind of small and insignificant comapred to these guys and envied the sense of community that they had.
Once they firefighters had left in their convoy of trucks I sat down to breakfast and watched the remaining minutes of that days stage of the Tour de Fance before going back to my camp to see how eveything was drying out.Really all I needed to worry about was my tarp and some clothes but it gave me a chance to do some work on my bike and get it ready for the 140 kilometer day that I had planned.It was my intention to ride up and over the Great Divide and camp that night at Racheria Creek Lodge which would leave me an easy 120 kilometers to ride the next morning to Watson Lake.This was kind of the plan I had heard from the others already further down the road so I was hoping that we would all end up in the same place together.
The Korean was the first out of the starting blocks that day followed by John then myself and the Swiss.For me it was a chance to have some fun and try to catch those guys who had camped further up the road.I figured that it would be a pretty easy task and catching John easily after the first long climb out of Teslin showed me that my riding was getting stronger,my bike however had other ideas.Almost as soon as I passed john I got my first flat of the day.He stopped to help but I waived him on telling him that I would be fine and went about fixing the offending tyre.With the tyre fixed I was off again,in hot pursuit of the peleton I felt was riding up the road before me.
The next hour or so passed without incident but I was wondering where John was.I was riding very hard and fast and hadn't seen him at all which I though odd.Before I could come up with a plausible reason.I saw,climbing a hill ahead of me,four cyclists.They were lumbering up the steep hill like a quartet of small elephants,totally loaded down and wobbling in an ungainly manner up the road.I caught up to them very quickly and sat up for a chat as I passed first the young German couple and then Brian.Just as I told them I would meet them at the top my tyre blew for the second time.Damn!!
The three cyclists all stopped and chatted while I unhitched my trailer and took my rear wheel off.They told me that th Korean was just ahead and I said that I would be fine and that they should ride on and I'd see them a little later on.With that they wished me well and I went about fixing my tyre,again.
Back on the road again I made great time and was soon wondering where everyone was.I had not passed the Greman nor the Englishman Brian but was now closing fast on a very tired looking Korean.I blew by him with a wave and soon passed a sign that told me I was crossing into British Columbia.I knew we would duck into BC for a few kilometers that day and knew exactly where I was and even with my two flats was looking forward to maing it to Rancheria Creek by around 3pm.That was until my third flat.
I was getting pretty frustrated by this time as the flats were not caused by road debris but by something wrong with my wheels rim.All the punctures were on the underside of the tubes and for the life of me I could not find the cause.I laid new tape on the inside of the rim and put in a new tube hopefull that the problems were done for the day but about two kilometers up the road it happend again.This time I pulled completely off the side of the highway and went about overhauling my rear wheel and having a little tyre patching party on the side of the road.It was at that stage that Pierre passed me and asked if I was okay.He told me that everyone was behind me and that they were al thinking of stopping at Continental Divide due to the late start.I said I'd meet him there and off he went while I finished my repair duties.
On the road again and I was a happy for about twenty minutes when my fourth flat of the day stopped me.I repeated the process and then a further four kilometers away a fifth and then a sixth.By this time I'd had enough and stopped for a late lunch during which time the Mexicans and Andy passed me.During repairs to my seventh flat,the Korean and old John passed me and I was at the point of no loner caring about the flats,it was too much of a joke.I hung out,ate some food,chatted to a nice roadworker who stopped to see if I was okay and generally killed time walking around in the woods.I had to get going though and thankfully I found a tyre that would hold.I pushed hard those next thirty kilometers and started passing everyone again until I met up with a couple of the guys at Swift River who convinced me to keep riding until Continental Divide.I didn't want to ride anymore as the day had drained the enthusiasm out of me but hey insisted and I'm glad they did.The next 20 kilometers flew by and before I knew it I was rolling up to The Continental Divide Lodge to greet the three Mexicans who had arrived before me.This was it for the day,time to make camp.
First though I needed to eat and quickly went into the restaurant to order with five minute to spare before closing.I was given an awesome beef stew which lasted all of one minute before downing a very cold can of ginger ale which topped me off nicely.The lady in the restaurant could not believe how quickly I finished dinner but what I couldn't belive was that when I went outside to ride my bike over to the camping area I found waiting for me yet another flat tyre...WTF!!!
In good company..
I managed to keep away from the early morning beer in the lounge fridge and drowned my sorrows in copious amount of coffee instead.I really didn't know what I was going to do for the day as I was still feeling a bit down but that soon changed.After spending time doing the rounds of the social media circles I grabbed all my gear and walked outside into the mid-morning heat.That's right I said heat.Finally!
The heat wasn't what changed my mood though,it was seeing a familiar face sitting at a table on the motels' verandah.It was Andy,one of the cyclists whom I had met in Beaver Creek some six hundred kilometers earlier.I was amazed that we had bumped into each other again and even more amazed when he told me that the rest of the guys would be along at some stage in the next little while.I sat with him and we chatted enthusiastically about each others trips and he filled me in on what the others were up to and what they were planning to do for the next few days.He was originally planning to leave straight away and camp alone but as the cyclists arrived one by one the group spirit took hold and he decided to hang out and find out what everyone wanted to do that night.For me it was just the tonic I needed to lift me out of my funk and get me smiling and happy with life.
Someone asked me recently if I was on any medication for my depression and I replied that no I wasn't and that the best medication for me was for me to be around friends or people who were positive and happy.Well this situation proved exactly that.One moment I was sitting alone in a motel lounge exchanging pleasantries with the passing crowd, hating the fact that I didn't have anyone to share this trip with and then suddenly I'm surrounded by a group of guys who were,so happy,so positive and most importantly happy to see me.As stupid as it sounds,I felt like I was part of something again.
These are the kinds of weird feelings that wash through me from time to time.It is like a tide of irrational emotions that ebb and flow through my head at regular intervals but with different depths and varying intensities.It is the feeling that I don't belong or that I don't matter to those who matter to me that leaves me feeling that I an living a disjointed life.Like all the other irrational thoughts that,from time to time, creep in to cloud actual reality,they are fleeting and common sense eventually prevails.I know others have experienced this as well as I have discussed it at length and figured out that one of the main reasons we tend to feel alone or ignored or abandoned by those who are important to us is that we obsess about it.While everyone else is out living their lives,working, looking after families and going through the day to day drudgeries of life we tend to wonder why nobody is calling,why nobody is knocking on the door,why nobody cares.The fact is that for the most part,they do care,it is just that they can't be "care-givers" twenty-four hours a day.We need to understand the huge toll that helping people through depression can take on those friends who try to undestand but can't.We need to understand how much our affliction can negatively affect others and we need to honour those who are there trying to help us by trying to help ourselves as well.We need to give back to them.We owe them that and that is why I try to give so much of myself to others so openly.It is my way of saying thank you but in all honesty I think the sentiment is lost on most.What can you do?
Sitting in the dry,blazing heat watching the happily wearly travellers peddle their way back into my life was something that was not lost on me.I realised that I so needed to be around people who were interested in being adventurous and fun and happy with life.It kept me interested in life as well it made me want to share mine with others.It made me want to carry on.
As the group grew over the passing hour or so I saw that there were some new additions and found out that there was Phillipe, a French guy,two Swiss guys(whose names sadly escape me) and one remarkable old guy from Victoria, BC who was fast becoming something of a legend on the Alaska highway,he was 71 year old John Crouch.When he rolled up to the motel I,at first, thought what is this old guy doing out here,but then I saw his shirt and realised he was on an awareness raising ride for Parkinsons disease.I thought,good on him and then spent the next little while checking out his bike,which is pretty much the first thing any of us does when we meet a new cyclist on the road.While I was doing that the rest of the group were decideing what they were going to do and were they were going to stay for the night.I had already paid for another night at the campground and John,the Swiss and the Korean decided to join me.The Mexican foursome and Andy decided that they would ride on further up the highway to join Phillipe who had already left to find the next government campground some 16 kilometers away.The young German couple and English Brian decided not to pay for camping but didn't want to ride any further so instead opted to bandit camp(or rough camp) in a small park on the other side of the bridge leading out of town.I knew that I could catch all of the guys heading out of town so I didn't say my goodbyes but as they left intheir groups just said "I'll see you out there tomorrow."It felt great to be part of the group again.
That evening I sat again at my little lounge table and tried to catch up with my blog and social correspondence on Facebook.I ordered a beer and chatted to some of the locals before spying the four cyclists who had stayed in town for the night.They grabbed a table across the lounge from me and drank beer while swapping stories of the road and life in general.The Swiss and the Korean sat entranced as old John passed on the wisdom of the ages,regalling them with countless tales of a life well lived and amazing them with his feats of apparently ageless athleticism.I packed up my computer and moved over to join them and it wasn't long before John and I realised that we had quite a lot in common.He,like me,was a keen triathlete and had participated in the Ironman Canada triathlon in Penticton and upon further discussion,was coincidently friends with a number of my triathlon buddies in that town.I further learned,once he opened up the full page write-up in the local Yukon newspaper,that he was also a past World Duathon Champion for his age group.I thought that was awesome and we got along famously.
It was a fun night drinking a few beers and talking tall tales with people from four separate continents but as always all good things must come to an end and we were soon cast out of the lounge and out into what we surpirsingly found to be the wildest of weather.While we were inside a huge storm front had moved in and the rain was dumping down in volumes.Luckily for me I had already covered my tent and gear with my big tarp but the other were not so lucky and after the deluge had subsided had found their tents swamped by the flooded campground.There wasnt too much damage done but we all knew there would be no early departure the next day.There would be some serious drying out to be done first.
I wandered around for a while taking pictures post flood and sometime soon after midnight crawled into my little dry oasis in the drenched campground.I had never slept on a campground waterbed before and thanked the lord for the highwalled plastic floor that came standárd in my cheap-ass $20 Mexican Walmart tent.
The heat wasn't what changed my mood though,it was seeing a familiar face sitting at a table on the motels' verandah.It was Andy,one of the cyclists whom I had met in Beaver Creek some six hundred kilometers earlier.I was amazed that we had bumped into each other again and even more amazed when he told me that the rest of the guys would be along at some stage in the next little while.I sat with him and we chatted enthusiastically about each others trips and he filled me in on what the others were up to and what they were planning to do for the next few days.He was originally planning to leave straight away and camp alone but as the cyclists arrived one by one the group spirit took hold and he decided to hang out and find out what everyone wanted to do that night.For me it was just the tonic I needed to lift me out of my funk and get me smiling and happy with life.
Someone asked me recently if I was on any medication for my depression and I replied that no I wasn't and that the best medication for me was for me to be around friends or people who were positive and happy.Well this situation proved exactly that.One moment I was sitting alone in a motel lounge exchanging pleasantries with the passing crowd, hating the fact that I didn't have anyone to share this trip with and then suddenly I'm surrounded by a group of guys who were,so happy,so positive and most importantly happy to see me.As stupid as it sounds,I felt like I was part of something again.
These are the kinds of weird feelings that wash through me from time to time.It is like a tide of irrational emotions that ebb and flow through my head at regular intervals but with different depths and varying intensities.It is the feeling that I don't belong or that I don't matter to those who matter to me that leaves me feeling that I an living a disjointed life.Like all the other irrational thoughts that,from time to time, creep in to cloud actual reality,they are fleeting and common sense eventually prevails.I know others have experienced this as well as I have discussed it at length and figured out that one of the main reasons we tend to feel alone or ignored or abandoned by those who are important to us is that we obsess about it.While everyone else is out living their lives,working, looking after families and going through the day to day drudgeries of life we tend to wonder why nobody is calling,why nobody is knocking on the door,why nobody cares.The fact is that for the most part,they do care,it is just that they can't be "care-givers" twenty-four hours a day.We need to understand the huge toll that helping people through depression can take on those friends who try to undestand but can't.We need to understand how much our affliction can negatively affect others and we need to honour those who are there trying to help us by trying to help ourselves as well.We need to give back to them.We owe them that and that is why I try to give so much of myself to others so openly.It is my way of saying thank you but in all honesty I think the sentiment is lost on most.What can you do?
Sitting in the dry,blazing heat watching the happily wearly travellers peddle their way back into my life was something that was not lost on me.I realised that I so needed to be around people who were interested in being adventurous and fun and happy with life.It kept me interested in life as well it made me want to share mine with others.It made me want to carry on.
As the group grew over the passing hour or so I saw that there were some new additions and found out that there was Phillipe, a French guy,two Swiss guys(whose names sadly escape me) and one remarkable old guy from Victoria, BC who was fast becoming something of a legend on the Alaska highway,he was 71 year old John Crouch.When he rolled up to the motel I,at first, thought what is this old guy doing out here,but then I saw his shirt and realised he was on an awareness raising ride for Parkinsons disease.I thought,good on him and then spent the next little while checking out his bike,which is pretty much the first thing any of us does when we meet a new cyclist on the road.While I was doing that the rest of the group were decideing what they were going to do and were they were going to stay for the night.I had already paid for another night at the campground and John,the Swiss and the Korean decided to join me.The Mexican foursome and Andy decided that they would ride on further up the highway to join Phillipe who had already left to find the next government campground some 16 kilometers away.The young German couple and English Brian decided not to pay for camping but didn't want to ride any further so instead opted to bandit camp(or rough camp) in a small park on the other side of the bridge leading out of town.I knew that I could catch all of the guys heading out of town so I didn't say my goodbyes but as they left intheir groups just said "I'll see you out there tomorrow."It felt great to be part of the group again.
That evening I sat again at my little lounge table and tried to catch up with my blog and social correspondence on Facebook.I ordered a beer and chatted to some of the locals before spying the four cyclists who had stayed in town for the night.They grabbed a table across the lounge from me and drank beer while swapping stories of the road and life in general.The Swiss and the Korean sat entranced as old John passed on the wisdom of the ages,regalling them with countless tales of a life well lived and amazing them with his feats of apparently ageless athleticism.I packed up my computer and moved over to join them and it wasn't long before John and I realised that we had quite a lot in common.He,like me,was a keen triathlete and had participated in the Ironman Canada triathlon in Penticton and upon further discussion,was coincidently friends with a number of my triathlon buddies in that town.I further learned,once he opened up the full page write-up in the local Yukon newspaper,that he was also a past World Duathon Champion for his age group.I thought that was awesome and we got along famously.
It was a fun night drinking a few beers and talking tall tales with people from four separate continents but as always all good things must come to an end and we were soon cast out of the lounge and out into what we surpirsingly found to be the wildest of weather.While we were inside a huge storm front had moved in and the rain was dumping down in volumes.Luckily for me I had already covered my tent and gear with my big tarp but the other were not so lucky and after the deluge had subsided had found their tents swamped by the flooded campground.There wasnt too much damage done but we all knew there would be no early departure the next day.There would be some serious drying out to be done first.
I wandered around for a while taking pictures post flood and sometime soon after midnight crawled into my little dry oasis in the drenched campground.I had never slept on a campground waterbed before and thanked the lord for the highwalled plastic floor that came standárd in my cheap-ass $20 Mexican Walmart tent.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Week two slideshow..Tok, Alaska to Teslin, Yukon Territory
Here is another slideshow for you all...Tok,Alaska to Teslin,Yukon Territory
The music is Eddie Vedder's "Hard Sun" from the "Into the Wild"sountrack
The music is Eddie Vedder's "Hard Sun" from the "Into the Wild"sountrack
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Body image and perceptions..
I thought,while I had some down time, that I would touch on a subject that a lot of folks don't want to talk about but most likely affects a lot of poeple you know,if not you,yourself.Body image.
As a lot of you know I have been going through a process of getting myself back in shape after a few years of packing on the pudge.For me the weight gain was a result of being pretty miserable most of the time and resorting to comfort eating and too much time spent trying to dull the emotional pain by drinking red wine.The funny thing about getting back in shape is that while most people would think that it is all roses and happy days,the fact is that sometimes it brings with it a different kind of pain.The pain of living up to the new found body that you are uncovering.Let me explain by telling you a story.
Many years ago I worked as Fitness Consultant at Fitness World in Victoria on Vancouver Island.It was a great job and I had all kinds of fun helping people get themselves healthy and in particular really enjoyed the social aspects of working at an upbeat health club.We of course,had our fair share of really good looking and buff staff and clients who set the standard of what was "the ideal " body for all to aspire.It was a really positive environment or so one would think.I thought so until I started to notice a thing or two about the social interaction between some of our reguars and one of our staff,her name was Cara.
Cara worked as a receptionist on the desk and she also used to give tours to walk in clients before handing them off to one of the floor staff like myself.She was one of the few staff members who,unlike the rest of us, never took advantage of the free use of the gym .I though it odd because she was young and pretty and seemed to be totally involved with almost everybody who was anybody at the club.The thing about Cara was,she was overweight.I never could understand why.She was active,popular with all the guys and most of the girls and was one of the most enthusiastic fans of the members who lost weight but she refused to do so herself.
I watched,fascinated for the longest time until one day it dawned on me.I was at the desk and Cara was surrounded by all these cool,fit looking guys who were planning a social night with some of the staff and members that weekend.Cara was the girl everyone sought out to organise that kind of thing and was always going to the bars with the guys after work but she never had a boyfriend and was treated like one of the boys.That day though,as they were chatting one of the part-time aerobic instructors came skipping down the stairs from the floor above and all conversation stopped.The girl in question was Katherine,a hairdresser who worked at the gym four nights a week and was an absolute doll.Seriously,she was in amazing shape and was as cute as they come as well.The guys always loved it when she worked as she didn't wear much and was quiet the flirty little thing.She was my hairdresser and we were good friends so when she came over to talk to me all the guys lost interest and went back to talking to Cara.
Kath and I went into the clubs juice bar for a coffee and while we were chatting I asked her about Cara.I was told that a year or so earlier Cara had decided to get herself in shape but just as she was starting to look like she was losing the weight she had a few personal issues with a couple of guys after which time she gave up working out completely.I wondered why,until Kath then told me she had started getting a little bitchy toward some of the aerobic instructors and that there had been some nasty comments swapped between a few clients and her and some of the guys had been pretty mean to her.Then it hit me,I kew why she decided to stop working out and put the weight back on.It was body image and acceptance of her as a certain part of the social food chain,as it were.
You see for Cara to attract the kind of attention that Katherine recieved every day just by waking up and walking out her front door,Cara would have to work out like a demon and if she was very lucky,after a long time, begin to be in the same category as someone like Katherine or the other little hotties.During that time the public perception of her would change.It would go from Cara,everybody's friend,mate,gal you hung out with,life of the party to,hey she doesn't look too bad,if she lost a few pounds I'd ask her out.At that moment in her life Cara was everyones friend and that was it.She didn't register on anyones sexual radar so nobody judged her by her body they judged her by her great personality and they loved her for it.As soon as she started to lose the wieght and look a bit fit the judgements started.What are you doing?Why are you trying to compete with the other girls?You will never look like her and so on and so on.It was cruel but what was worse was that her male friends changed,they no longer treated her as their mate but as a potential night of sex and that is what crushed her spirit in the end.They had totally dismissed the great girl that had been there in front of them for all those years and started to treat her like a cheap easy lay,how devastating for her!
It was that experience that made her give up on trying to be the fit,skinnier girl that she so wanted to be and made her instead got back to the heavy girl who hid who she wanted to be behind a body that was safer for her.She again became the life of the party but I know that was just an act as the look in her eyes every time a girl like Katherine walked into the gym said it all.Inside she was miserable and didn't have the strength to change.It was very sad.
My recent struggle with weight gain and loss has taught me a lot.It has taught me just how hard it is for someone who is overweight and ashamed of how they look to physically get out the door to train.It is not just the physical stuff,because you can always run/walk your way to weight loss.It can be the emotional side too,just like a couple of years or so ago when I was trying to start running again in Cairns and a car full of young punks drove by and one of them yelled "Go back to "MacDonalds you fat bastard".I don't think I tried to run again for a about four months after that incident.For me to go to the pool was never going to happen as I was so disgusted in how I looked so I just didn't swim even though I love it.This has carried on for the last few years but nobody ever took me aside and said,Nick,mate,you are turning into a fat bastard and THAT IS NOT OKAY!!!I wish someone had summoned up the courage to tell me that.
Now as I am nearing Penticton and another stint at Ultraman I will be stuck in the middle .On one hand there will be those who know me and will be amazed at how much weight I've lost and then there will be those who don't know me,have never met me but only know me as the guy who won two Ultraman's.They will all be in great shape and ready to race at the end of the month and will no doubt be wondering of me,what is that fat guy doing in Ultraman?
Body image is a funny thing and sometimes you just can't win!
As a lot of you know I have been going through a process of getting myself back in shape after a few years of packing on the pudge.For me the weight gain was a result of being pretty miserable most of the time and resorting to comfort eating and too much time spent trying to dull the emotional pain by drinking red wine.The funny thing about getting back in shape is that while most people would think that it is all roses and happy days,the fact is that sometimes it brings with it a different kind of pain.The pain of living up to the new found body that you are uncovering.Let me explain by telling you a story.
Many years ago I worked as Fitness Consultant at Fitness World in Victoria on Vancouver Island.It was a great job and I had all kinds of fun helping people get themselves healthy and in particular really enjoyed the social aspects of working at an upbeat health club.We of course,had our fair share of really good looking and buff staff and clients who set the standard of what was "the ideal " body for all to aspire.It was a really positive environment or so one would think.I thought so until I started to notice a thing or two about the social interaction between some of our reguars and one of our staff,her name was Cara.
Cara worked as a receptionist on the desk and she also used to give tours to walk in clients before handing them off to one of the floor staff like myself.She was one of the few staff members who,unlike the rest of us, never took advantage of the free use of the gym .I though it odd because she was young and pretty and seemed to be totally involved with almost everybody who was anybody at the club.The thing about Cara was,she was overweight.I never could understand why.She was active,popular with all the guys and most of the girls and was one of the most enthusiastic fans of the members who lost weight but she refused to do so herself.
I watched,fascinated for the longest time until one day it dawned on me.I was at the desk and Cara was surrounded by all these cool,fit looking guys who were planning a social night with some of the staff and members that weekend.Cara was the girl everyone sought out to organise that kind of thing and was always going to the bars with the guys after work but she never had a boyfriend and was treated like one of the boys.That day though,as they were chatting one of the part-time aerobic instructors came skipping down the stairs from the floor above and all conversation stopped.The girl in question was Katherine,a hairdresser who worked at the gym four nights a week and was an absolute doll.Seriously,she was in amazing shape and was as cute as they come as well.The guys always loved it when she worked as she didn't wear much and was quiet the flirty little thing.She was my hairdresser and we were good friends so when she came over to talk to me all the guys lost interest and went back to talking to Cara.
Kath and I went into the clubs juice bar for a coffee and while we were chatting I asked her about Cara.I was told that a year or so earlier Cara had decided to get herself in shape but just as she was starting to look like she was losing the weight she had a few personal issues with a couple of guys after which time she gave up working out completely.I wondered why,until Kath then told me she had started getting a little bitchy toward some of the aerobic instructors and that there had been some nasty comments swapped between a few clients and her and some of the guys had been pretty mean to her.Then it hit me,I kew why she decided to stop working out and put the weight back on.It was body image and acceptance of her as a certain part of the social food chain,as it were.
You see for Cara to attract the kind of attention that Katherine recieved every day just by waking up and walking out her front door,Cara would have to work out like a demon and if she was very lucky,after a long time, begin to be in the same category as someone like Katherine or the other little hotties.During that time the public perception of her would change.It would go from Cara,everybody's friend,mate,gal you hung out with,life of the party to,hey she doesn't look too bad,if she lost a few pounds I'd ask her out.At that moment in her life Cara was everyones friend and that was it.She didn't register on anyones sexual radar so nobody judged her by her body they judged her by her great personality and they loved her for it.As soon as she started to lose the wieght and look a bit fit the judgements started.What are you doing?Why are you trying to compete with the other girls?You will never look like her and so on and so on.It was cruel but what was worse was that her male friends changed,they no longer treated her as their mate but as a potential night of sex and that is what crushed her spirit in the end.They had totally dismissed the great girl that had been there in front of them for all those years and started to treat her like a cheap easy lay,how devastating for her!
It was that experience that made her give up on trying to be the fit,skinnier girl that she so wanted to be and made her instead got back to the heavy girl who hid who she wanted to be behind a body that was safer for her.She again became the life of the party but I know that was just an act as the look in her eyes every time a girl like Katherine walked into the gym said it all.Inside she was miserable and didn't have the strength to change.It was very sad.
My recent struggle with weight gain and loss has taught me a lot.It has taught me just how hard it is for someone who is overweight and ashamed of how they look to physically get out the door to train.It is not just the physical stuff,because you can always run/walk your way to weight loss.It can be the emotional side too,just like a couple of years or so ago when I was trying to start running again in Cairns and a car full of young punks drove by and one of them yelled "Go back to "MacDonalds you fat bastard".I don't think I tried to run again for a about four months after that incident.For me to go to the pool was never going to happen as I was so disgusted in how I looked so I just didn't swim even though I love it.This has carried on for the last few years but nobody ever took me aside and said,Nick,mate,you are turning into a fat bastard and THAT IS NOT OKAY!!!I wish someone had summoned up the courage to tell me that.
Now as I am nearing Penticton and another stint at Ultraman I will be stuck in the middle .On one hand there will be those who know me and will be amazed at how much weight I've lost and then there will be those who don't know me,have never met me but only know me as the guy who won two Ultraman's.They will all be in great shape and ready to race at the end of the month and will no doubt be wondering of me,what is that fat guy doing in Ultraman?
Body image is a funny thing and sometimes you just can't win!
Holy flat tyres batman!!
The second night I spent in Johnsons Crossing was a bit of a sufferfest as the temperatures dropped to the low single digits and without a sleeping bag or a sleeping mat combined with the permafrost underground chilling be from below,it was a tough night.I had to put on almost every piece of clothing that I had with me,including my rain gear to keep warm.Needless to say that I didn't sleep very well and my morning didn't improve when I finally crawled out of my tent to get all my gear ready and found my rear tyre was flat.Not the way I wanted to start my day.
I figured that it was a good way to lighten my load and took the opportunity to throw out the old rear tyre,which had been torn apart my the gravel,and replace it with the spare tyre I had folded up in my trailer bag.It would give me a little more room for all the other crap I didn't need but was dragging along the highway anyway.It didn't take long to put the tyre on and was kind of looking forward to riding that day as the tyre was alittle wider and hopefully that would make it a little more comfortable and provide a little more purchase on the rougher sections of road.
Once I packed all my gear I walked my rig over to the restaurant and sat down for my morning coffee and to catch up with the news of the day and more imporantly the Tour de France on my laptop.I had a chat to some biker guys about the condition of the roads that they were about to tackle and they filled me in on the roads heading east all the while shaking their heads at the amount of cyclists that they had seen during their trip.They all thought that they were doing it tough until they saw some cyclists riding in driving rain through southern British Columbia a week or so earlier.After that,they said,we cyclists had earned a lot of respect.I told them that if they ran into an Itallian chick out there on a mountain bike then they should give her all the respect and more and amazed them with the story of crazy Michelle's ride from Argentina.
I finished my chat and went outside ready to start the days ride only to find that my trailer tyre was flat.What,not another one?!So inside in went to get a take-out coffee and then unhitched my trailer and settled down at the petrol pumps and fixed the hole.As usual the offending culprit was a small bit of metal thread,no doubt picked up while riding past one of the many blown truck tyres on the highway.With the tyre fixed it was time to roll and I was soon pedalling up and down the rolling hills that followed the northern edge of the fifty mile long, Teslin Lake.It was a pretty great day to be out there as the sun had finally decided to hang around and I was cycling in shorts for the first time on my trip.I still had long sleeves and gloves on as the wind,which was blowing right into my face,was pretty chilly.
The whole mornings ride was one big photo opportuity and I stopped several times to take some happy snaps for posterity and was amazed that I had never heard of this beautiful part on the country.Seriously folks it is just beautiful up here in the Yukon.I could do without all the bloody mozzies but I guess you can't have it all.What I could also have done without was the second flat rear tyre for the day.I was rolling along happily and my tyre was great,then I stop to take a picture and the bloody thing goes flat under me.Now what the hell is that all about...and it was a brand new tyre for God's sake!!Oh well time to unhitch the trailer again,at least it was a beautiful place to stop so I took in the views as I changed tubes and patched the hole in the blown one.
The next 20 kilometers or so flew by and I was really starting to notice my bike fitness climbing pretty quickly.I was now climbing long hills at the same speed that I had been struggling to hit on the flats out of Anchorage not so long before,and it was into a headwind.That made me feel a bit better about Ultraman at the end of the month.At least I will be able to get through the two days of biking without suffering too much.Unlike the last two times I competed.Now if only my stupid knee would alow me to run for more tha twenty minutes at a time I would be a lot happier in general.I really started to wonder just what damage I had done to it during the marathon in June as it was not healing at all and every now and then the swelling gets pretty bad.I can still ride though so no point bitching too much I guess.
Just after mid-day I rode into the village of Teslin and was surprised at how busy the place was.There are two big gas stations occupying opposite sides of the highway with one of them also comprising of an hotel and RV park which sat near the shore of Teslin Lake.It was a really pretty place and I rode into the car park ,full of motorcycles to have a lunch break which ended up being a dinner break as well.
After having a small lunch and a chat with a few of the motorbike guys while enjoying the first summer-like conditions of my trip I went back to my bike to load up and head off.As I drew near I nticed my rear tyre was again,flat.Oh shit,not again!I had suffered a summer of flat tyres the year before in Penticton,when every ride,it seemed,involved dealing with flats.I didn't want to go through that again and kind of lots the plot for a minute and had a little internal tantrum before heading into the gas station office and asked about campsites.They lady told me that they had a really nice camping area and that did it for me and I rolled my gear,flat tyre and all down to the lakeside camping area where I had all the prime real-estate to myself.
A good portion of the rest of the day was spent taking my wheels off and relining the rims with new tape as well as ling the inside of each tyre with tape as well.I then did a bunch of other bike maintenance and generally fiddled around with all my gear.Being the inept mechanic that I am,this left me pretty frustrated and covered in grease and road grime and in combination with the hottest day of my trip thus far,dying for a swim.With the bike all fixed I wandered down through the trees and waded out into the firgid waters of Teslin Lake for my first actual swim of my trip.Three weeks before the start of Ultraman seemed a good time to start my swim training and would be a better preparation than I had for the two previous attempts combined.Luckily swimming is not an issue for me and I could get through a ten kilometer swim pretty much any time but still,it would be better if I actually got wet every now and then before the race.
That evening I tried to make it a three sport day and went for a run but my mood dropped when I only lasted around half and hour before realising the pain was coming back on the inside of my knee.I was reduced to a walk and even turning while walking on the damned thing felt weird.I wandered back down to the lake and stood there in the cold shallows wondering what the hell to do,so I went to the lounge in the restaurant and had a couple of beers.The next one hundred kilometers of my ride involved climbing up and over the continental divide and even though this is the lowest point that any highway in Nth America crosses that geological landmark,it meant a tough day on the bike.I wondered how my knee would feel about that once I started the long climb that begins directly after negotiating the scary steel-decked bridge that spans Teslin Lake to the east.
I didn't need to wait all that long to find out.When I awoke the next morning and crawled out of my tent the pressure on my knee sent a shooting pain through the joint and once outside the tent I saw that there was significant swelling going on.I was going nowhere that morning,time for drugs and some immersion in the cold lake before heading to the restaurant for coffee and some Facebook updates.
I must admit,I'm pretty dejected right now and as I sit here in the restaurant lounge at 9:45am,pissed off and pretty lonely,those beers in the fridge behind the bar are looking pretty damn inviting..
I figured that it was a good way to lighten my load and took the opportunity to throw out the old rear tyre,which had been torn apart my the gravel,and replace it with the spare tyre I had folded up in my trailer bag.It would give me a little more room for all the other crap I didn't need but was dragging along the highway anyway.It didn't take long to put the tyre on and was kind of looking forward to riding that day as the tyre was alittle wider and hopefully that would make it a little more comfortable and provide a little more purchase on the rougher sections of road.
Once I packed all my gear I walked my rig over to the restaurant and sat down for my morning coffee and to catch up with the news of the day and more imporantly the Tour de France on my laptop.I had a chat to some biker guys about the condition of the roads that they were about to tackle and they filled me in on the roads heading east all the while shaking their heads at the amount of cyclists that they had seen during their trip.They all thought that they were doing it tough until they saw some cyclists riding in driving rain through southern British Columbia a week or so earlier.After that,they said,we cyclists had earned a lot of respect.I told them that if they ran into an Itallian chick out there on a mountain bike then they should give her all the respect and more and amazed them with the story of crazy Michelle's ride from Argentina.
I finished my chat and went outside ready to start the days ride only to find that my trailer tyre was flat.What,not another one?!So inside in went to get a take-out coffee and then unhitched my trailer and settled down at the petrol pumps and fixed the hole.As usual the offending culprit was a small bit of metal thread,no doubt picked up while riding past one of the many blown truck tyres on the highway.With the tyre fixed it was time to roll and I was soon pedalling up and down the rolling hills that followed the northern edge of the fifty mile long, Teslin Lake.It was a pretty great day to be out there as the sun had finally decided to hang around and I was cycling in shorts for the first time on my trip.I still had long sleeves and gloves on as the wind,which was blowing right into my face,was pretty chilly.
The whole mornings ride was one big photo opportuity and I stopped several times to take some happy snaps for posterity and was amazed that I had never heard of this beautiful part on the country.Seriously folks it is just beautiful up here in the Yukon.I could do without all the bloody mozzies but I guess you can't have it all.What I could also have done without was the second flat rear tyre for the day.I was rolling along happily and my tyre was great,then I stop to take a picture and the bloody thing goes flat under me.Now what the hell is that all about...and it was a brand new tyre for God's sake!!Oh well time to unhitch the trailer again,at least it was a beautiful place to stop so I took in the views as I changed tubes and patched the hole in the blown one.
The next 20 kilometers or so flew by and I was really starting to notice my bike fitness climbing pretty quickly.I was now climbing long hills at the same speed that I had been struggling to hit on the flats out of Anchorage not so long before,and it was into a headwind.That made me feel a bit better about Ultraman at the end of the month.At least I will be able to get through the two days of biking without suffering too much.Unlike the last two times I competed.Now if only my stupid knee would alow me to run for more tha twenty minutes at a time I would be a lot happier in general.I really started to wonder just what damage I had done to it during the marathon in June as it was not healing at all and every now and then the swelling gets pretty bad.I can still ride though so no point bitching too much I guess.
Just after mid-day I rode into the village of Teslin and was surprised at how busy the place was.There are two big gas stations occupying opposite sides of the highway with one of them also comprising of an hotel and RV park which sat near the shore of Teslin Lake.It was a really pretty place and I rode into the car park ,full of motorcycles to have a lunch break which ended up being a dinner break as well.
After having a small lunch and a chat with a few of the motorbike guys while enjoying the first summer-like conditions of my trip I went back to my bike to load up and head off.As I drew near I nticed my rear tyre was again,flat.Oh shit,not again!I had suffered a summer of flat tyres the year before in Penticton,when every ride,it seemed,involved dealing with flats.I didn't want to go through that again and kind of lots the plot for a minute and had a little internal tantrum before heading into the gas station office and asked about campsites.They lady told me that they had a really nice camping area and that did it for me and I rolled my gear,flat tyre and all down to the lakeside camping area where I had all the prime real-estate to myself.
A good portion of the rest of the day was spent taking my wheels off and relining the rims with new tape as well as ling the inside of each tyre with tape as well.I then did a bunch of other bike maintenance and generally fiddled around with all my gear.Being the inept mechanic that I am,this left me pretty frustrated and covered in grease and road grime and in combination with the hottest day of my trip thus far,dying for a swim.With the bike all fixed I wandered down through the trees and waded out into the firgid waters of Teslin Lake for my first actual swim of my trip.Three weeks before the start of Ultraman seemed a good time to start my swim training and would be a better preparation than I had for the two previous attempts combined.Luckily swimming is not an issue for me and I could get through a ten kilometer swim pretty much any time but still,it would be better if I actually got wet every now and then before the race.
That evening I tried to make it a three sport day and went for a run but my mood dropped when I only lasted around half and hour before realising the pain was coming back on the inside of my knee.I was reduced to a walk and even turning while walking on the damned thing felt weird.I wandered back down to the lake and stood there in the cold shallows wondering what the hell to do,so I went to the lounge in the restaurant and had a couple of beers.The next one hundred kilometers of my ride involved climbing up and over the continental divide and even though this is the lowest point that any highway in Nth America crosses that geological landmark,it meant a tough day on the bike.I wondered how my knee would feel about that once I started the long climb that begins directly after negotiating the scary steel-decked bridge that spans Teslin Lake to the east.
I didn't need to wait all that long to find out.When I awoke the next morning and crawled out of my tent the pressure on my knee sent a shooting pain through the joint and once outside the tent I saw that there was significant swelling going on.I was going nowhere that morning,time for drugs and some immersion in the cold lake before heading to the restaurant for coffee and some Facebook updates.
I must admit,I'm pretty dejected right now and as I sit here in the restaurant lounge at 9:45am,pissed off and pretty lonely,those beers in the fridge behind the bar are looking pretty damn inviting..
Monday, July 11, 2011
A little Ultraman Canada history..UMC 1995.
The 1995 edition of Ultraman Canada is quite a strange one .It is almost like it never happend because you never really hear anyone talking about it.That to me is a great oversight as on paper,even though there were only eight starters the top three men were by far and away the most talented threesome that had fronted Ultraman Canada to date.Sergio Cordiero from Brasil was already a worldwide legend in the International Ultra Triathlon Association circuit with several wins in multi-Iron distance races.Germany's Jochen Baumann had turned up for the race with an Ironman best time of around 9:08 and then there was local Penticton triathlete Richard Diamond who,at the time,was the fastest local in town with an Ironman best of around 9:12-9:16.It was promising to be a great race up front and with the race adopting the standard Ultraman distance as laid down by the powers at be in Kona all kinds of history was to be made with every win a new course record.Thankfully due to this change I will forever hold the swim,bike,combined day one and two,and the total overall race records for the old Ultraman Canada distances,something which the good folks at Ultraman Canada have seen fit to leave out of any historical records.Thank's guys!!!
That year I was part of the crew for local favourite Richard Diamond.I say local favourite with a tinge of sadness as to most people in the triathloncommunity Richard wasn't too popular.He had a hard time with what he percieved as the pressure of being the top Ironman in town and mixed wih his fiesty personality it didn't go down to well.I liked Richard though and always thought that he was a greatly misunderstood guy.The fact that the crew he had for the second two days were not from Penticton just showed how little support he had in the community.To be fair he did have the odd, very public confrontation from time to time but hey the guy had character.
I wasn't available to help Richard on day one and if memory serves me right the Bike Barn from Penticton had a crew out thier for him .They had always looked after Richard and he was rarely seen racing, or training for that matter, without some kind of Bike Barn gear on.They brought him home that day in first place overall but not by too much.He had won the 10k swim in a new record time of 3hr 26 minutes but only exited the water a mere 3:30ish in front of Jochen.It seemed that there was a race to be had.Sergio did his usual impersonation of a brick trying to swim and came out of the water about 50 minutes behind Jochem in fifth place,behind the top two women.If that guy could only swim!!On the bike the race continued but Richard managed to pull away from Jochen and take another 16 minutes lead by the end of the days proceedings.Sergio had a pretty average ride but still was able to face the finish line without shame as me managed to pass both women and finish in third overall.It didn't look good for Sergio though as he was now 1hr 21min behind Richard and just over an hour behind Jochen.He is a great runner but he would have to pull some time back on thse two during day two for his run to help him at all.
Day one also saw our little mate Tracey Preston set two womens records as she won the swim and the bike to place her a very healthy 45 minutes in front of Rebeca Wallick with Pat Rowles rounding out the womens placings a few hours further back.
Day two saw Richard with a crew change.I was available and showed up ready to help Richard win the damn thing,a friend of ours Derek Smith who was in town training for Ironman stepped up and the third guy was another Aussie in town training for Ironman and that was Kevin Cutjar.For those who are familiar with that name there is a reason.Later that year Kevin went on to win the Ultraman World Championships in Kona,Shortly afterward he turned pro and proceeded to become a multi-time-time top ten finisher in Ironman races around the world with an Ironman best time of around 8:38.He also went on to start his own extremly successful triathlon coaching business in Penticton,Impact Multisports.As the Ultraman Canada results page will show,he is also the current Ultraman Canada Champion having won in fine style in 2010.But those days were all in the future for Kev and that weekend all we really worried about was getting Richard to the finish line happy( a major problem) and in front.
Day two saw the only wet,miserable day that I have witnessed in the nine events I have been part of.Unfortunaely for Richard it didn't suit him at all and he suffered mightily.He and Jochen were riding pretty closely all day but Richard soon began to suffer with neck and back problems and he stopped a few times for me to give his neck a massage.he wasn't in much of a good mood either as demostrated when he lost it over the fact the Kiwi pro Brendon Downey was using a casual long Ironman training ride to spectate.He was riding not far behind Richard for quite some time and it really got to him.We had to very politely tell Brendon to bugger off,which isn't that hard for an Aussie to do to a Kiwi.Richard managed to turn it around near the end and as I remenber made up some great time on Jochen to finish in second place for the day only losing 13 minutes or so to the German.Sergio rolled in a further 28 minutes behind to give himself almost no chance of catching either f the two guys in front of him.
Tracey Preston managed to put to bed the demons of not making the bike cut-off the previous year by finishing under the 12hr time limit and with the other two females not finishing the stage she was now the clear favourite to be the first female Ultraman Canada Champion.She just had to finish day three in under 12 hrs.
Day three started as expected with Sergio taking off on his own and running beautifully into the distancce.You really havee to have seen him run to understand how he looks when running it is amazing.Richard and Jochen weren't at all interested in looks tey were in a solid battle to win the race.Richard was only 7 minutes in front of Jochen at the start of the day and he ran like a man posessed,until something happened,Richard changed.It was quite bizzare really but at some stage during the later portions of the run someone produced some blow-up animals,big ones and Richard was seen running down the fire-road with and inflateble penguin on his head.Now if ever there was a WTF moment that was it.This was one of the most uptight,hard to get along with triathletes in town,messing around during the middle of a double marathon run.It looked like the Ultraman Gods had claimed another one.It wa slike he released years of pressure and realised that it was okay to have fun.
The back half of the run wasn't too much fun for him when he found out that Jochen was closing in.The smile left Richards face and it was all about business again..Unfortunately when you let your focus go all the other stuff can follow and Richard started to melt down physically and mentally.About 70 kilometeres into the race he was in the middle of the road,down on his haunches,staring at the dirt.There was nothing anyone could do he just would not move.Steve "the voice of Ironman"King turned up and told us to wait and he would talk to Richard.now if you know Steve you will know that he is a vey spiritual guy and is a master motivator.He has all kinds of ways of talking people through things and I could only imagine him telling Richard to draw energy from the rocks and trees and birds and all that hippy guru stuff.The proobllem was Steve had to get to the finish line before Sergio so he couldn't spend the time to get Richard moving.In the meantime somene took a photo of the three crew members all sitting in a line together on the hood of the Bike Barn wagon lounging back on the windshield.Hey if Richard didn't want to play then neither did we.
I ended up walking over to him and saying that,I knew how much it hurt because I was the last guy to win this race and if he wanted to win the damn thing he needed to run,it was that simple.I helped him up and he started first to walk and then to run.Once he realised that he was getting close he was running well and continued all the way to the finish to beat Jochen by a mere two minutes that day and become the 1995 Ultraman Champion by eight and a half minutes,the closest finish to date.Sergio had smashed the run record with a 7:10 but it wasn't nearly enough to take anything but third.
Tracey Preston did manage to finish the run in a time that was faster than mine from the previous year and she became the first female to officially finish Ultraman Canada and the first ever Ultraman Canada Champion.We were all so happy for her and it was just the beggining of a long history between Tracey and Ultraman,both in Canada and at the World Championships in Kona.
I believe the Ultraman Canada experience changed Richard for the better.I think it allowed him to let go of a lot of what pissed him off in his life and we got to see the real Richard Diamond.I had never once had a beer with the guy,been to his house or even just done much more than socialising at races but now it was all different and I was very happy for him.Richard now lives in Whistler,Bristish Columbia and the rare occaisions we get to see him are always a treat.
Ultraman Canada results 1995
www.ultramancanada.com/race-results/1995-2
That year I was part of the crew for local favourite Richard Diamond.I say local favourite with a tinge of sadness as to most people in the triathloncommunity Richard wasn't too popular.He had a hard time with what he percieved as the pressure of being the top Ironman in town and mixed wih his fiesty personality it didn't go down to well.I liked Richard though and always thought that he was a greatly misunderstood guy.The fact that the crew he had for the second two days were not from Penticton just showed how little support he had in the community.To be fair he did have the odd, very public confrontation from time to time but hey the guy had character.
I wasn't available to help Richard on day one and if memory serves me right the Bike Barn from Penticton had a crew out thier for him .They had always looked after Richard and he was rarely seen racing, or training for that matter, without some kind of Bike Barn gear on.They brought him home that day in first place overall but not by too much.He had won the 10k swim in a new record time of 3hr 26 minutes but only exited the water a mere 3:30ish in front of Jochen.It seemed that there was a race to be had.Sergio did his usual impersonation of a brick trying to swim and came out of the water about 50 minutes behind Jochem in fifth place,behind the top two women.If that guy could only swim!!On the bike the race continued but Richard managed to pull away from Jochen and take another 16 minutes lead by the end of the days proceedings.Sergio had a pretty average ride but still was able to face the finish line without shame as me managed to pass both women and finish in third overall.It didn't look good for Sergio though as he was now 1hr 21min behind Richard and just over an hour behind Jochen.He is a great runner but he would have to pull some time back on thse two during day two for his run to help him at all.
Day one also saw our little mate Tracey Preston set two womens records as she won the swim and the bike to place her a very healthy 45 minutes in front of Rebeca Wallick with Pat Rowles rounding out the womens placings a few hours further back.
Day two saw Richard with a crew change.I was available and showed up ready to help Richard win the damn thing,a friend of ours Derek Smith who was in town training for Ironman stepped up and the third guy was another Aussie in town training for Ironman and that was Kevin Cutjar.For those who are familiar with that name there is a reason.Later that year Kevin went on to win the Ultraman World Championships in Kona,Shortly afterward he turned pro and proceeded to become a multi-time-time top ten finisher in Ironman races around the world with an Ironman best time of around 8:38.He also went on to start his own extremly successful triathlon coaching business in Penticton,Impact Multisports.As the Ultraman Canada results page will show,he is also the current Ultraman Canada Champion having won in fine style in 2010.But those days were all in the future for Kev and that weekend all we really worried about was getting Richard to the finish line happy( a major problem) and in front.
Day two saw the only wet,miserable day that I have witnessed in the nine events I have been part of.Unfortunaely for Richard it didn't suit him at all and he suffered mightily.He and Jochen were riding pretty closely all day but Richard soon began to suffer with neck and back problems and he stopped a few times for me to give his neck a massage.he wasn't in much of a good mood either as demostrated when he lost it over the fact the Kiwi pro Brendon Downey was using a casual long Ironman training ride to spectate.He was riding not far behind Richard for quite some time and it really got to him.We had to very politely tell Brendon to bugger off,which isn't that hard for an Aussie to do to a Kiwi.Richard managed to turn it around near the end and as I remenber made up some great time on Jochen to finish in second place for the day only losing 13 minutes or so to the German.Sergio rolled in a further 28 minutes behind to give himself almost no chance of catching either f the two guys in front of him.
Tracey Preston managed to put to bed the demons of not making the bike cut-off the previous year by finishing under the 12hr time limit and with the other two females not finishing the stage she was now the clear favourite to be the first female Ultraman Canada Champion.She just had to finish day three in under 12 hrs.
Day three started as expected with Sergio taking off on his own and running beautifully into the distancce.You really havee to have seen him run to understand how he looks when running it is amazing.Richard and Jochen weren't at all interested in looks tey were in a solid battle to win the race.Richard was only 7 minutes in front of Jochen at the start of the day and he ran like a man posessed,until something happened,Richard changed.It was quite bizzare really but at some stage during the later portions of the run someone produced some blow-up animals,big ones and Richard was seen running down the fire-road with and inflateble penguin on his head.Now if ever there was a WTF moment that was it.This was one of the most uptight,hard to get along with triathletes in town,messing around during the middle of a double marathon run.It looked like the Ultraman Gods had claimed another one.It wa slike he released years of pressure and realised that it was okay to have fun.
The back half of the run wasn't too much fun for him when he found out that Jochen was closing in.The smile left Richards face and it was all about business again..Unfortunately when you let your focus go all the other stuff can follow and Richard started to melt down physically and mentally.About 70 kilometeres into the race he was in the middle of the road,down on his haunches,staring at the dirt.There was nothing anyone could do he just would not move.Steve "the voice of Ironman"King turned up and told us to wait and he would talk to Richard.now if you know Steve you will know that he is a vey spiritual guy and is a master motivator.He has all kinds of ways of talking people through things and I could only imagine him telling Richard to draw energy from the rocks and trees and birds and all that hippy guru stuff.The proobllem was Steve had to get to the finish line before Sergio so he couldn't spend the time to get Richard moving.In the meantime somene took a photo of the three crew members all sitting in a line together on the hood of the Bike Barn wagon lounging back on the windshield.Hey if Richard didn't want to play then neither did we.
I ended up walking over to him and saying that,I knew how much it hurt because I was the last guy to win this race and if he wanted to win the damn thing he needed to run,it was that simple.I helped him up and he started first to walk and then to run.Once he realised that he was getting close he was running well and continued all the way to the finish to beat Jochen by a mere two minutes that day and become the 1995 Ultraman Champion by eight and a half minutes,the closest finish to date.Sergio had smashed the run record with a 7:10 but it wasn't nearly enough to take anything but third.
Tracey Preston did manage to finish the run in a time that was faster than mine from the previous year and she became the first female to officially finish Ultraman Canada and the first ever Ultraman Canada Champion.We were all so happy for her and it was just the beggining of a long history between Tracey and Ultraman,both in Canada and at the World Championships in Kona.
I believe the Ultraman Canada experience changed Richard for the better.I think it allowed him to let go of a lot of what pissed him off in his life and we got to see the real Richard Diamond.I had never once had a beer with the guy,been to his house or even just done much more than socialising at races but now it was all different and I was very happy for him.Richard now lives in Whistler,Bristish Columbia and the rare occaisions we get to see him are always a treat.
Ultraman Canada results 1995
www.ultramancanada.com/race-results/1995-2
A dark day on the road..
I woke up super early the next morning for my ride out of Whitehorse but I just couldn't get motivated to actually leave.I had suffered two very cold nights and woke up feeling less than one hundred percent.I managed to start a fire to warm up and waited for the office to open so I could have a coffee.The sky didn't look at all like the previous days prediction of "partly cloudy"but there was nothing for it,I had to go but still stalled in front of the fire until around 8:30 am when I was coaxed into hitting the road by English Brian.He knew how easy it was to get stuck when things are tough so he sent me on my way down the road towards Teslin around 180 kilometers away.
The ride started pretty well and after a long climb out of Whitehorse I was cruising along the highway with relative ease.The day iself was pretty gloomy and I was hit several times my rain showers which did nothing but start to chill be even more than I already was.I tried everything I could but the hills made me hot and the descents froze me.I couldn't win and started to slow down significantly.I hit the town ( read gas station) of Jakes Corner at lunchtime having only covered 80 kilometers and went inside for a coffee and to warm up.Within five mintues I was asleep sitting in my chair and the lady who had served me was worried that I was not doing myself any favours by riding in the rain and wearing wet clothes all day.I sad that there was nothing I could do about it and that I would be okay after a rest.I sat there for about an hour before heading off into the drizzle again.
I lasted about 12 kilometers until my next stop which was at a rest area on the side of the road.I had made a turn into another valley and the sun had come out and started to warm me up.I stripped off all my top layers and lay them on the picnic table to dry while I had another nap on the bench.I tried to drink as much as I could but was feeling a bit off colour and seriously thought about campiing there for the night.That thought soon passed and after a chat with some passers-by I was out on the road again.
At around 100k I came across a government campground and went in for a look but decided to try and push on to the next town of Johnsons Crossing where my map had a service station and camground marked.By the time I reached it I had ridden a slow 125 kilometers with the last two hours right into a tough wind.I was done and rode up to the restaurant and booked a campsite.I really was a bit too out of it to notice but after setting up my tent and having a shower I realise that this was not a town at all but just a gas station in the middle of nowhere and at that moment I was one of only four people staying at the facility.
After my shower I went into the restaurant and went on something of a feeding frenzy.This place is apparently famous for it's baked goods and before I knew it I had eaten one chicken pie,two sausage rolls and a berry turnover.I was starting to feel normal again and got the laptop out to do some Facebooking.I hung out in the restaurnt until around 7pm and then with my arms full of goodies for the morning went back to my tent to go to sleep.
The next day I woke up at three,completely drenched in sweat and had to get up and start a fire to dry everything out.I was wearing all my cycling gear and most of everything else so I needed to dry it out for the days ride.As my clothes hung above the fire I tried to get some more sleep but it was no use.My head,throat and eyes hurt and I knew I was about to come down with something so I rethought my days plan and waited until after breakfast to decide what to do.Until then I lay on the picnic table in front of the fire and tried to keep warm.
A few hours later I was inside the restaurant nursing a hot coffee and staring at the maps of the route I had yet to conquer.My mind was torn between riding on that day and risk getting sick or missing out on some mileage and keeping myself from getting ill which may have a negative effect during Ultraman in three weeks time.I needed to stay healthy over the next two weeks and so if it meant missing out on riding some of the remainer of my trip then I would.I decided to take a day to recover,and for the first time,as luck would have it,that the sun shone bright and warm for the whole of my trip thus far.Bugger!
Not to worry though and although I didn't get very far from Whitehorse at all I was actually having an okay time of it and hung out for most of the day in the restaurant verandah writing in my blog.It was a productive day and I even managed to get sunburt but I had to wonder when I was going to have to make the inevitable decision to catch a ride south,deep into Bristish Cloumbia.I figured that I had a good twelve days left of riding in my legs before Ultraman but how far that would get me I had no idea.My running had suffered due to my dodgy knee but I had been diligent in my dry-land swim training.The problem was,I was losing interest in the race to the extent that I really needed some motivation to keep the event as my main focus.I did that by trying to write about my Ultraman Canada experiences,without anyone here to share them with though, it didn't really work and I found myself feeling a little flat.My old mate and crew chief for this year conacted me and said that if I wanted I could always ride to Calgary and hitch a lift with them to Penticton.I will give that some serious thought and even if I have to race to Lake Louise by the beginning of race week at least my crew can start their duties early and pick me up on the way through.That would shave abotu 500 kilometers of the end of the trip and give me some time to get some more running and swim stuff in.I'll have to seriously think about it.If he mentions beer,it will be a no-brainer.
The ride started pretty well and after a long climb out of Whitehorse I was cruising along the highway with relative ease.The day iself was pretty gloomy and I was hit several times my rain showers which did nothing but start to chill be even more than I already was.I tried everything I could but the hills made me hot and the descents froze me.I couldn't win and started to slow down significantly.I hit the town ( read gas station) of Jakes Corner at lunchtime having only covered 80 kilometers and went inside for a coffee and to warm up.Within five mintues I was asleep sitting in my chair and the lady who had served me was worried that I was not doing myself any favours by riding in the rain and wearing wet clothes all day.I sad that there was nothing I could do about it and that I would be okay after a rest.I sat there for about an hour before heading off into the drizzle again.
I lasted about 12 kilometers until my next stop which was at a rest area on the side of the road.I had made a turn into another valley and the sun had come out and started to warm me up.I stripped off all my top layers and lay them on the picnic table to dry while I had another nap on the bench.I tried to drink as much as I could but was feeling a bit off colour and seriously thought about campiing there for the night.That thought soon passed and after a chat with some passers-by I was out on the road again.
At around 100k I came across a government campground and went in for a look but decided to try and push on to the next town of Johnsons Crossing where my map had a service station and camground marked.By the time I reached it I had ridden a slow 125 kilometers with the last two hours right into a tough wind.I was done and rode up to the restaurant and booked a campsite.I really was a bit too out of it to notice but after setting up my tent and having a shower I realise that this was not a town at all but just a gas station in the middle of nowhere and at that moment I was one of only four people staying at the facility.
After my shower I went into the restaurant and went on something of a feeding frenzy.This place is apparently famous for it's baked goods and before I knew it I had eaten one chicken pie,two sausage rolls and a berry turnover.I was starting to feel normal again and got the laptop out to do some Facebooking.I hung out in the restaurnt until around 7pm and then with my arms full of goodies for the morning went back to my tent to go to sleep.
The next day I woke up at three,completely drenched in sweat and had to get up and start a fire to dry everything out.I was wearing all my cycling gear and most of everything else so I needed to dry it out for the days ride.As my clothes hung above the fire I tried to get some more sleep but it was no use.My head,throat and eyes hurt and I knew I was about to come down with something so I rethought my days plan and waited until after breakfast to decide what to do.Until then I lay on the picnic table in front of the fire and tried to keep warm.
A few hours later I was inside the restaurant nursing a hot coffee and staring at the maps of the route I had yet to conquer.My mind was torn between riding on that day and risk getting sick or missing out on some mileage and keeping myself from getting ill which may have a negative effect during Ultraman in three weeks time.I needed to stay healthy over the next two weeks and so if it meant missing out on riding some of the remainer of my trip then I would.I decided to take a day to recover,and for the first time,as luck would have it,that the sun shone bright and warm for the whole of my trip thus far.Bugger!
Not to worry though and although I didn't get very far from Whitehorse at all I was actually having an okay time of it and hung out for most of the day in the restaurant verandah writing in my blog.It was a productive day and I even managed to get sunburt but I had to wonder when I was going to have to make the inevitable decision to catch a ride south,deep into Bristish Cloumbia.I figured that I had a good twelve days left of riding in my legs before Ultraman but how far that would get me I had no idea.My running had suffered due to my dodgy knee but I had been diligent in my dry-land swim training.The problem was,I was losing interest in the race to the extent that I really needed some motivation to keep the event as my main focus.I did that by trying to write about my Ultraman Canada experiences,without anyone here to share them with though, it didn't really work and I found myself feeling a little flat.My old mate and crew chief for this year conacted me and said that if I wanted I could always ride to Calgary and hitch a lift with them to Penticton.I will give that some serious thought and even if I have to race to Lake Louise by the beginning of race week at least my crew can start their duties early and pick me up on the way through.That would shave abotu 500 kilometers of the end of the trip and give me some time to get some more running and swim stuff in.I'll have to seriously think about it.If he mentions beer,it will be a no-brainer.
Time for some Ultraman history:UMC 1994...
Ultraman Canada 1994 was the first time I participated in anything longer than an Ironman triathlon.I was living in Penticton at the time with my girlfriend Leisa,preparing for my third stint at Ironman at the end of August.My mate Mori,Leisa and I were preparing to crew for the second years running of Ultraman Canada for the same guy we had crewed for the year before,two time Irnman Canada winner and now Ultraman Canada Champion,Tom Price.It was going to be a great weekend out on the road and this time Mori had used his great skills marketing skills in obtaining,or should I say scanmming a full sponsorship for Tom from various local businesses.
We were all set for the weekend of crewing ,when,late on the Thusday night before the Saturday race start Leisa and I staggered home from another awesome maragrita Thursday at Cheers Pub (now Anthony's) and I saw that there was a message on our answering machine so I hit the button and heard Mori's voice.He told us that due to the huge forest fires that were blazing all around Penticton Tom would not be able to race this weekend and was pulling out of the event.I called Mori straight away and found out that Tom was an athsmatic and was worried about competeing with all the smoke in the air.Man what a bummer.Mori then told me that it was a shame to waste the entry as he had all this sponsorship for someone to do the race.He suggested that maybe I could do it and we could get my Aussie mate Lloyd who was also in town that month for Ironman to replace me as crew."No worries mate,I'll do it!"Stupid drunken Aussie entering Ultraman Canada 30hrs before the event started,what was I thinking!!
I rolled up to the start of the race at the Peach on Okanagan Lake on day one to hear the race briefing.We had to change the venue from Skaha Lake to Okanagan Lake because the Mars water bombers were using Skaha Lake to refill and fight the fires still raging around the town.Instead of swimming 11.8 kilometers the langth of Skaha we would swim six laps from the Peach around the line of big white bouys that stretched down the beach to the Sicamous,the beached paddlewheeler that is a Penticton landmark.We figured that it would be close enough to 11.8k's and we were all set to go.My mates all thought that I was nuts to enter a racce like this so late but I was fit for Ironman and would try to fill Tom's shoes as best I could.
The gun went off and I was in the lead from the start.I enjoy swimming and was having fun in the lake with all the other ultradudes and at the end of each lap I treaded water to grab a bite to eat and try to find out how I was going.Apparently pretty well as I was in the lead by quite a margin.After what felt like a pretty short 2hrs and 42 minutes I exited the water with a new swim record and a lead over pre-race favourite Berend Henkle of about 23 minutes.Holy cow, just like Tom the year before,I was leading Ultraman Canada and I couldn't believe it!
After everyone got out of the water I decided to hang out with fellow competitor Ean "action"Jackson who was an Ultra-veteran and member of the Canadian National 100k Running Team.My mate Dave Bullock (who'se house we were living in) was on Eans crew aalong with his wife Sybille.We all went down to the Pasta Factory on Front Street to celebrate our day and soon,Ean and I were downing beers and a couple of shooters to induct me into the Ultraman Hall of Shame.Sybille began to worry about me and she told Ean to stop encouraging me as I had never ridden 200 miles before and to do it for the first time not only hungover but hungover in Ultraman wasn't a smart move.I believe his response was to buy me another beer.It was a fun night.
The next day we all lined up at the start of the 200 mile ride and I remembe joking with a mate of mine,Lee Crocket that for fun I would go out hard and see what eveyone would do.Instead,I was dropped like a bad habit as the racers took off at a stupid pace.they were just nuts and rode the 55 kilometers down to Osooyos at around 39 kph leaving me way back in the process.Stupid move guys,what arre you thinking!!I rolled down quietly doing my thing and as we made the trip back toward Oliver I started to pass a few people.Lee drove by me and I asked him if that guy way in the distance was Berend.He didn't know and I told him that if the guy was wearing an orange Banesto jersey then could he flash his brake lights for me.He did and I knew something was wrong with one of the favourites.I mean Berend had won the bike the previous year.I rolled up next to Berend and asked him if he was okay and he told me that instead of following him to Osoyoos and feeding him they had gone for breakfast and he hadn't seen tham yet.He had gone 80 kilometeres with onyl one bottle of nutrition.His day was done,he would never recover.It was saddeneing for me to see such a great athlete and nice guy resigning himself to his fate and I rode past him feeling uneasy about beating him that way.
My crew on the other hand were a comedy of errors as Mori and Lloyd argued like an old married couple for the duration of the weekend.Putting them in the front seat of a car together was a huge mistake but it was all in good fun and even if they didn't really know what was going on some of the time at least they did keep me fed and watered,Luckily I knew the course backward after crewing for Tom the year before.
I rode on to Okanagan Falls and the to the infamous Wall which is a 2 kilometer climb that on its's own isn't a huge problem but at 100 k'ds into a 320 kilometer ride it is worrying and an important point in the course.i was very surprised to find myself catching the whole field and at the top of the wall caught the two leaders who were our male model from the previous year Jim Brazil and the voice of Ironman himself Steve King.I remember pulling up to them and asking if they would give me a second to pull ahead just so I could say that I actually lead the field on day two.They obliged but what I didn't expect was to continue to pull away over the hill that took us to Twin Lakes.I was just hammering along and as I approached Keremeous I was caught by Jim and for the next few hours we played cat-and-mouse for around 80 kilometers all the way to Princeton.
I nearly lost a crew member in Keremeous as the boys decided to stop and grab some food for themselves.My girlfriend Leisa had worked until 5am that morning and had been asleep in the back of the vehicle for the first 150k but woke up at Keremeous.She saw that the boys were shopping so got out of the car and went t the toilet.While she was gone the boys got back in the car and drove off.It wasn't until some time later one of them mentioned how quietly Leisa slept and turned to look at her and realised that she wasn't there.WTF!!!!They hit the brakes,turned the car around and sped bakc toward penticton too try and find her.They did find her chatting to another crew at the Bears Fruit Stand where they left her.Idiots!
I had no clue this was going on at the time and was busily trying to put time into Jim who just refused to let me go.It wasn't until we started the climb out of Princeton that I began to pull away and once I realised it I went even harder.It was hell and the hardest 60 kilometers Inhad ever ridden.Once I hit the turn I realsied how much my feet hurt and it was agony pushing that bike down the long undulating drop into Princeton.I coasted as often as I could to relieve the pain but nothing worked.I did make it to the finish fiirst though in a time of 10hrs 33 minutes but more importantly had taken 27 minuts off Tom Prices record from the previous year.I was over the moon!The pain and swelling of both feet made me think that there was no way I could run the next day but I didn't care,I had won two stages,set three records and was sitting 54 minutes in front of the other pre-race favourite Jimmy Brazil.Totally awesome!!
My crew and I hung out for the longest time cheering on all those who finished behind me but the time came to get to our motel and change for the dinnner that was to be hsted in our honour by the mayor of Princeton at the Bromley Station Pub.Unfortunately for him.TThere was a pub between the finish line and our motel and with three thirsty Auatralians on board there was never any chance of us driving by.We went in and Team Mallett got toally shitfaced.Thankfully Lloyd decided to stay sober enough to drive us to the pub where the mayors dinner was,the only problem was that we had missed it.We met up with the mayor at the bar and he looked at Lloyd,being pretty fit looking and the only sober one,and asked how he was doing in the race .He told him that he wasn't doing it and pointed to a very drunk guy next to him.Me!The mayors mate asked jokingly if I thought i would win and I said "I dunno,maybe,I'm 54 mintues in front" and then we all cracked up and they gave us the run of the kitchen to made ourselves some dinner.it was a priceless experience indeed.
My hangover didn't last long the next day and I figured that all that beer was just replacing the lost nutrition from the previous days effort.At the start line all eyes were on Steve King and Ean Jackson both of who were noted Ultra-runners and both on the national 100k Running team.I just wanted to defend my 54 minutes over Jim and figured that if I ran with him for as long a possible there was a chance that steve and Ean would not be able to make up the 90 minute of so lead I had on them both.Jim and I ran together and I told him of my plan,he didn't like it but agreed that it was a good one as I culd just counter each move he made knowing he would run me to a win.Steve and Ean vaniished from the start and Jim and I held oon t each other for about 60k when the course hits Trout Creek and the massive 11k climb to the top of the range above Faulder.It wa during this stretch that Jims achilles gave out and he had to slow down.I felt bad leaving him as he had helped me so much over days two and three but I had a run to finish so off I went dwon the long hills into Faulder and within strike of the finish at Summerland.
I was really starting to hurt with about 8k to go and wanted to know if Steve and Ean had finished.As if on command a vehicle drove out from the finish to meet me and it was a local friend jerry Feenstra who told me that Steve had beaten Ean by about five minutes and even though they had been in the finish fr nearly an hour I was so close that I culdn't lose.I sarted to walk right there and then.I was in so much painand the bottom of my feet were on fire but my crew insisted that I run it in and I hobbled my way to the finish line and thrird place for the day.
I was truly amazed.I had managed to win Ultraman Canada and set all kinds of records along the way.Steve and Ean had tried valiantly but in the end I still had 37 minutes up my sleeve.Incredible!!To this day I don't know how I did it and I've stopped asking myself how.I just use it as an example to all that if you put your mind to it and have the right attitude then almost anything is possible.
I would,before I forget,like to put some thanks out to my awesome,if not dysfunctional crew.Most people would just fall apart from dealing with a bunch of crazy nutters who seem to have their mind on everything
but their job but that is what I loved about those three.Mori, Lloyd and Leisa,thank you so much for stepping up and being there to help me achieve what was an amazing ahievement.I wouldn't have wanted to share it with anyone else..
www.ultramancanada.com/race-results/1994-2
We were all set for the weekend of crewing ,when,late on the Thusday night before the Saturday race start Leisa and I staggered home from another awesome maragrita Thursday at Cheers Pub (now Anthony's) and I saw that there was a message on our answering machine so I hit the button and heard Mori's voice.He told us that due to the huge forest fires that were blazing all around Penticton Tom would not be able to race this weekend and was pulling out of the event.I called Mori straight away and found out that Tom was an athsmatic and was worried about competeing with all the smoke in the air.Man what a bummer.Mori then told me that it was a shame to waste the entry as he had all this sponsorship for someone to do the race.He suggested that maybe I could do it and we could get my Aussie mate Lloyd who was also in town that month for Ironman to replace me as crew."No worries mate,I'll do it!"Stupid drunken Aussie entering Ultraman Canada 30hrs before the event started,what was I thinking!!
I rolled up to the start of the race at the Peach on Okanagan Lake on day one to hear the race briefing.We had to change the venue from Skaha Lake to Okanagan Lake because the Mars water bombers were using Skaha Lake to refill and fight the fires still raging around the town.Instead of swimming 11.8 kilometers the langth of Skaha we would swim six laps from the Peach around the line of big white bouys that stretched down the beach to the Sicamous,the beached paddlewheeler that is a Penticton landmark.We figured that it would be close enough to 11.8k's and we were all set to go.My mates all thought that I was nuts to enter a racce like this so late but I was fit for Ironman and would try to fill Tom's shoes as best I could.
The gun went off and I was in the lead from the start.I enjoy swimming and was having fun in the lake with all the other ultradudes and at the end of each lap I treaded water to grab a bite to eat and try to find out how I was going.Apparently pretty well as I was in the lead by quite a margin.After what felt like a pretty short 2hrs and 42 minutes I exited the water with a new swim record and a lead over pre-race favourite Berend Henkle of about 23 minutes.Holy cow, just like Tom the year before,I was leading Ultraman Canada and I couldn't believe it!
After everyone got out of the water I decided to hang out with fellow competitor Ean "action"Jackson who was an Ultra-veteran and member of the Canadian National 100k Running Team.My mate Dave Bullock (who'se house we were living in) was on Eans crew aalong with his wife Sybille.We all went down to the Pasta Factory on Front Street to celebrate our day and soon,Ean and I were downing beers and a couple of shooters to induct me into the Ultraman Hall of Shame.Sybille began to worry about me and she told Ean to stop encouraging me as I had never ridden 200 miles before and to do it for the first time not only hungover but hungover in Ultraman wasn't a smart move.I believe his response was to buy me another beer.It was a fun night.
The next day we all lined up at the start of the 200 mile ride and I remembe joking with a mate of mine,Lee Crocket that for fun I would go out hard and see what eveyone would do.Instead,I was dropped like a bad habit as the racers took off at a stupid pace.they were just nuts and rode the 55 kilometers down to Osooyos at around 39 kph leaving me way back in the process.Stupid move guys,what arre you thinking!!I rolled down quietly doing my thing and as we made the trip back toward Oliver I started to pass a few people.Lee drove by me and I asked him if that guy way in the distance was Berend.He didn't know and I told him that if the guy was wearing an orange Banesto jersey then could he flash his brake lights for me.He did and I knew something was wrong with one of the favourites.I mean Berend had won the bike the previous year.I rolled up next to Berend and asked him if he was okay and he told me that instead of following him to Osoyoos and feeding him they had gone for breakfast and he hadn't seen tham yet.He had gone 80 kilometeres with onyl one bottle of nutrition.His day was done,he would never recover.It was saddeneing for me to see such a great athlete and nice guy resigning himself to his fate and I rode past him feeling uneasy about beating him that way.
My crew on the other hand were a comedy of errors as Mori and Lloyd argued like an old married couple for the duration of the weekend.Putting them in the front seat of a car together was a huge mistake but it was all in good fun and even if they didn't really know what was going on some of the time at least they did keep me fed and watered,Luckily I knew the course backward after crewing for Tom the year before.
I rode on to Okanagan Falls and the to the infamous Wall which is a 2 kilometer climb that on its's own isn't a huge problem but at 100 k'ds into a 320 kilometer ride it is worrying and an important point in the course.i was very surprised to find myself catching the whole field and at the top of the wall caught the two leaders who were our male model from the previous year Jim Brazil and the voice of Ironman himself Steve King.I remember pulling up to them and asking if they would give me a second to pull ahead just so I could say that I actually lead the field on day two.They obliged but what I didn't expect was to continue to pull away over the hill that took us to Twin Lakes.I was just hammering along and as I approached Keremeous I was caught by Jim and for the next few hours we played cat-and-mouse for around 80 kilometers all the way to Princeton.
I nearly lost a crew member in Keremeous as the boys decided to stop and grab some food for themselves.My girlfriend Leisa had worked until 5am that morning and had been asleep in the back of the vehicle for the first 150k but woke up at Keremeous.She saw that the boys were shopping so got out of the car and went t the toilet.While she was gone the boys got back in the car and drove off.It wasn't until some time later one of them mentioned how quietly Leisa slept and turned to look at her and realised that she wasn't there.WTF!!!!They hit the brakes,turned the car around and sped bakc toward penticton too try and find her.They did find her chatting to another crew at the Bears Fruit Stand where they left her.Idiots!
I had no clue this was going on at the time and was busily trying to put time into Jim who just refused to let me go.It wasn't until we started the climb out of Princeton that I began to pull away and once I realised it I went even harder.It was hell and the hardest 60 kilometers Inhad ever ridden.Once I hit the turn I realsied how much my feet hurt and it was agony pushing that bike down the long undulating drop into Princeton.I coasted as often as I could to relieve the pain but nothing worked.I did make it to the finish fiirst though in a time of 10hrs 33 minutes but more importantly had taken 27 minuts off Tom Prices record from the previous year.I was over the moon!The pain and swelling of both feet made me think that there was no way I could run the next day but I didn't care,I had won two stages,set three records and was sitting 54 minutes in front of the other pre-race favourite Jimmy Brazil.Totally awesome!!
My crew and I hung out for the longest time cheering on all those who finished behind me but the time came to get to our motel and change for the dinnner that was to be hsted in our honour by the mayor of Princeton at the Bromley Station Pub.Unfortunately for him.TThere was a pub between the finish line and our motel and with three thirsty Auatralians on board there was never any chance of us driving by.We went in and Team Mallett got toally shitfaced.Thankfully Lloyd decided to stay sober enough to drive us to the pub where the mayors dinner was,the only problem was that we had missed it.We met up with the mayor at the bar and he looked at Lloyd,being pretty fit looking and the only sober one,and asked how he was doing in the race .He told him that he wasn't doing it and pointed to a very drunk guy next to him.Me!The mayors mate asked jokingly if I thought i would win and I said "I dunno,maybe,I'm 54 mintues in front" and then we all cracked up and they gave us the run of the kitchen to made ourselves some dinner.it was a priceless experience indeed.
My hangover didn't last long the next day and I figured that all that beer was just replacing the lost nutrition from the previous days effort.At the start line all eyes were on Steve King and Ean Jackson both of who were noted Ultra-runners and both on the national 100k Running team.I just wanted to defend my 54 minutes over Jim and figured that if I ran with him for as long a possible there was a chance that steve and Ean would not be able to make up the 90 minute of so lead I had on them both.Jim and I ran together and I told him of my plan,he didn't like it but agreed that it was a good one as I culd just counter each move he made knowing he would run me to a win.Steve and Ean vaniished from the start and Jim and I held oon t each other for about 60k when the course hits Trout Creek and the massive 11k climb to the top of the range above Faulder.It wa during this stretch that Jims achilles gave out and he had to slow down.I felt bad leaving him as he had helped me so much over days two and three but I had a run to finish so off I went dwon the long hills into Faulder and within strike of the finish at Summerland.
I was really starting to hurt with about 8k to go and wanted to know if Steve and Ean had finished.As if on command a vehicle drove out from the finish to meet me and it was a local friend jerry Feenstra who told me that Steve had beaten Ean by about five minutes and even though they had been in the finish fr nearly an hour I was so close that I culdn't lose.I sarted to walk right there and then.I was in so much painand the bottom of my feet were on fire but my crew insisted that I run it in and I hobbled my way to the finish line and thrird place for the day.
I was truly amazed.I had managed to win Ultraman Canada and set all kinds of records along the way.Steve and Ean had tried valiantly but in the end I still had 37 minutes up my sleeve.Incredible!!To this day I don't know how I did it and I've stopped asking myself how.I just use it as an example to all that if you put your mind to it and have the right attitude then almost anything is possible.
I would,before I forget,like to put some thanks out to my awesome,if not dysfunctional crew.Most people would just fall apart from dealing with a bunch of crazy nutters who seem to have their mind on everything
but their job but that is what I loved about those three.Mori, Lloyd and Leisa,thank you so much for stepping up and being there to help me achieve what was an amazing ahievement.I wouldn't have wanted to share it with anyone else..
www.ultramancanada.com/race-results/1994-2
Time for some Ultraman Canada history: UMC-1993
So,as part of this blog deals with my history and association with all things Ultraman Canada I figured that I should include some history on my participation in the event.Given that of the ten times it has been held I have competed in six and crewed for three,you can imagine there are some stories to be told.
ULTRAMAN CANADA 1993:11.8k swim--320k ride--84k run
In the summer of 1993 I had flown to Penticton from my home in Cairns,Australia to spend the summer(which would be the start of a full year) in Penticton to get ready for Ironman Canada at the end of August.I had arrived during early July and was joined after three weeks by my girlfriend Leisa who was interested in finally seeing what all the fuss there was about this Ironman thing.She had seen me head off to two other Ironman races before,one in Penticton in 1991 and one in Sydney in 1992 but had limited her triathlon spectating to local events in Cairns.Personally I think she,and my other two female housemates only came to races to check out local tri stud and international triathlon superstar Brad Beven.They denied of course but I knew better!
During late July we got a call from a local mate of mine Mori LaChappelle who told us that he had been asked to be on a crew for an athlete in a new race in town called Ultraman Canada.I didn't know anything about it but when told that we would get a chance to drive around the district looking aftter an athlete and that the guy who we would be crewing for was two-time Ironman Canada Champion,Tom Price,I was in.Leisa was up for it so we agreed and Mori had his crew.
Tom was driving from his home near Seattle and wouldn't arrive in town until the night before the race which I thought odd but who was I to question a guy with Tom's background.We met up with him when he arrived and he was a nice enough guy but it was tough to tell as he was very focussed on what he was doing which wasn't at all in character to the three people he was trusting his race to that weekend.He had lists for this and instructions for that and we were not allowed to deviate in any way from what he had listed.We had recepies for sports drinks to mix,lists of clothing he might need,list for this and that and were pretty much told to do what he said and when.Oh crap,so much for a casual weekend driving around enjoying the views,this was sounding like it was going to be hard work.
Unlike todays Ultraman Canada,back then the race had an 11.8k swim on day one ( in conjunction with the Skaha Lake Ultra Swim) day two was an imperial double century or 320 kilometers for those nations who have joined the 21st century and day three was a double marathon 84kilometer run.We weren't needed for day one as Tom had a paddler,Chris, who steered him to an easy victory in 3hrs and 15 minutes some 10 minutes in front of Georg Peters in second and a massive 53 minutes in front of Scot, Ed Bell.Great,now we had a guy who was winning the damn thing so there would be no room for goofing off!!!
Day two dawned and we were there at the start line pretending that we knew what the hell we were doing and as the race started we all piled in the vehicle and chased after Tom as best we could.It has been so long that some recollections may be a but hazy( and I'm sure Mori,Tom or Steve Brown will correct me if need be) it seemed to me that it didn't take long for us to get into the groove and get stuff to Tom when he needed it.Calgary based Dutchman Berend Henkle was the star of the day but the racing was actually pretty damn exciting as Tom,Ed and male model Jim Brazil all swapped spots in the chase which kept us on our toes and had me taking a crash course in how to(and how not to) crew for Ultraman.I learned so much that day watching Tom do his thing and also started to "get" the whole hippy-happy-clappy,we are one big family crap that Ultraman is famous for.
The 320 kilometer day two was a long one and I remember thinking "how the hell do these guys do it", many times during the day.The guys had been swapping places all day and we were there for all of them giving splits and shouting encouragement. When we hit the final turn at Aspen Grove (some 30 kilometers past todays day two turn) Tom was in a bad way with really sore feet.He had been doing really well but the long climb up from Princeton had got to him and his mood was turning pretty badly.He was pretty much just barking orders at us and at the turn suddenly stopped and demanded a shoe change.Now,we are a pretty casual bunch,Mori,Leisa and I and are quite prone to playing practical jokes and generally being disrespectful at the most in-opportune times but Tom kind of scared us a bit towards the end of the day and we turned very quiet for the duration of the ride.Leisa,who was a tiny,shy girl,hid in the back seat not wanting to get involved at all past that point.Tom brought it home pretty strongly and even though he sruggled toward the end, still managed second place in a time of 11 hrs and a few seconds.Berend had ridden 10hrs 48 min for the days win and Ed bell had stayed with Tom to finish in third place only 8 minutes adrift of Tom's time.The ladies all waitied to Jimmy Brazil to finish which he did looking as male-modellish as ever less than half an hour after Ed.So after two days of combat,Tom had managed to generate a huge 61 minute lead over Ed with the rest of the field way back in another time zone.It seemed Toms race to lose....and he tried.
Day three was the first time I got the chance to see one of the most beautiful run courses you could imagine(well,except for the last bit) and we had a great time standing on the side of the road handing nutrition to Tom as he ran confidently,swapping places with with Ed,Georg and Jim,(whom I may recall wore speedos on the day)Tom was doing really well and was keeping his nemesis Ed Bell within his site while Jim Brazil started to try pull away.We wren't concerned about Jim as he was too far back timewise to worry about.It was all about Ed,who was,let's face it was pretty miserable to everyone concerned.At the time we didn't like him at all.
It was during the start of the second marathon that Tom requested some continued help pacing and as I was Ironman fit I joined him again and ran with him while handing him nutrition.I'd already done some running with him but he wanted somene there the whole time.No worries.It was also a chance for me to finally get to know they guy.We started chatting away and he wanted to know all about Mori,Leisa and myself and I think ttha whole Ulraman family thing started to take hold.His driven,focussed attitude changed and he mellowed out a lot,maybe too much.During the last half marathon his condition really started to deteriorate and he struggled.Jim was nowhere to be seen and as Tom hit the highway(we finished in the southern end of Penticton back then unlike in Summerland where we finish today)he started to walk.Mori was pacing him at the time and he didn't know what to do so I got out and swapped with Mori.I tried to get him to run but he wouldn't have any of it and now we were in trouble of losing the huge lead Tom had built over Ed.
Mori and Leisa drove past us when we hit Trout Creek just as I spied a gas station and I called for them to stop and get coke for Tom while trying to keep him mvoing forward.He was a mess and was now losing serious time to Ed as we slowly got closer to town.I fed Tom a bunch of coke but his condition got worse and he started to cry.It was the single most amazing thing I had ever witnessed in a race,The guy who had won two Ironman races and who had been so strong and so in control all weekend simply went to pieces right in front of me.I had to do something!
I started to yell at him to run from one post to the next but that din't work then I told him about the people back at home who had supported him during his training and were waiting for news of the race finish.That didn't work.Finally I'd had enough of the blubbering and did what I do best,I told him like it is,no touchy feely shit.I said " Look mate,I know you are hurting but so am I.I've run over 50 kilometers with you today and I don't want to be here either so you either start running and try to win this thing or we can get in the fucking car and go home".Well, he turned and looked down on me and smiled,he said okay and started to run.
What we didn't know was that up ahead,Ed Bell was really running hard for the win but had taken a wrong turn up the river channel bikepath and wasn't on the road like he was supposed to be.He had run a long way down the path before he was told of his mistake and to his credit,turned around and ran back to where he went off course and started down the highway.That mistake may have cost him the race,we will never know.
Our crew meanwhile had taken off to the finish to report in on Tom who they said was near death and had no chance of winning let alone finishing the day.Four kilometeres behind though Tom was having one last pee break and chatting with me as he prepared his head for the charge to the finish and what a charge it was.He had put all the bad attitude away and whatever demons he had in him were left behind on that highway.He ran down the road like it was a 10k race.I could barely keep up and the reaction of the folks assembled
at the finish was priceless as we ran past and made ready for he final 200 meters.
He jogged into finish and had held on to his first place position to become the innuagural winner of the Ultraman Canada Triathlon Championships, beating out a classy Ed Bell by around 32minutes and Georg Peters by and hour and a half.
It was an amazing weekend and I learned so much about what can be achieved by us if we just get our heads in the right place.I also learned that sometimes it is that strangest of things that lifts ones spirits.Tom and I had done battle with each other out there and Mori had done a great job keeping the crew together but it was one comment but my quiet,shy, little girlfriend Liesa that had Tom share just how much he needed us all.At the awards she was telling me that she didn't feel like she did anything at all to help and that she had been pretty useless to Tom.When Tom heard that he said she couldn't be more wrong as everytime he felt tiered or down and wanted to quit during the whole weekend all he did was look at her and think why would this girl put herself through two days of hell on the road helping some guy she had never met.He said that it was that beautiful smile on her sweet little face that he looked for every time he felt like he wanted to stop.It reminded him of the girl he had at home and that was all the motivation he needed.
Tom,Mori and I are still very good friends all these years later ( Mori is crewing for me this year) and I know that we will always have a special conection as when you go through the hell Tom did that third day it is impossible not to give something of yourself to those who helped you through it.That is how it is with family,that is how it is with friends and that is how it is in Ultraman!
Ultraman Canada Race results 1993
www.ultramancanada.com/race-results/1993-2
ULTRAMAN CANADA 1993:11.8k swim--320k ride--84k run
In the summer of 1993 I had flown to Penticton from my home in Cairns,Australia to spend the summer(which would be the start of a full year) in Penticton to get ready for Ironman Canada at the end of August.I had arrived during early July and was joined after three weeks by my girlfriend Leisa who was interested in finally seeing what all the fuss there was about this Ironman thing.She had seen me head off to two other Ironman races before,one in Penticton in 1991 and one in Sydney in 1992 but had limited her triathlon spectating to local events in Cairns.Personally I think she,and my other two female housemates only came to races to check out local tri stud and international triathlon superstar Brad Beven.They denied of course but I knew better!
During late July we got a call from a local mate of mine Mori LaChappelle who told us that he had been asked to be on a crew for an athlete in a new race in town called Ultraman Canada.I didn't know anything about it but when told that we would get a chance to drive around the district looking aftter an athlete and that the guy who we would be crewing for was two-time Ironman Canada Champion,Tom Price,I was in.Leisa was up for it so we agreed and Mori had his crew.
Tom was driving from his home near Seattle and wouldn't arrive in town until the night before the race which I thought odd but who was I to question a guy with Tom's background.We met up with him when he arrived and he was a nice enough guy but it was tough to tell as he was very focussed on what he was doing which wasn't at all in character to the three people he was trusting his race to that weekend.He had lists for this and instructions for that and we were not allowed to deviate in any way from what he had listed.We had recepies for sports drinks to mix,lists of clothing he might need,list for this and that and were pretty much told to do what he said and when.Oh crap,so much for a casual weekend driving around enjoying the views,this was sounding like it was going to be hard work.
Unlike todays Ultraman Canada,back then the race had an 11.8k swim on day one ( in conjunction with the Skaha Lake Ultra Swim) day two was an imperial double century or 320 kilometers for those nations who have joined the 21st century and day three was a double marathon 84kilometer run.We weren't needed for day one as Tom had a paddler,Chris, who steered him to an easy victory in 3hrs and 15 minutes some 10 minutes in front of Georg Peters in second and a massive 53 minutes in front of Scot, Ed Bell.Great,now we had a guy who was winning the damn thing so there would be no room for goofing off!!!
Day two dawned and we were there at the start line pretending that we knew what the hell we were doing and as the race started we all piled in the vehicle and chased after Tom as best we could.It has been so long that some recollections may be a but hazy( and I'm sure Mori,Tom or Steve Brown will correct me if need be) it seemed to me that it didn't take long for us to get into the groove and get stuff to Tom when he needed it.Calgary based Dutchman Berend Henkle was the star of the day but the racing was actually pretty damn exciting as Tom,Ed and male model Jim Brazil all swapped spots in the chase which kept us on our toes and had me taking a crash course in how to(and how not to) crew for Ultraman.I learned so much that day watching Tom do his thing and also started to "get" the whole hippy-happy-clappy,we are one big family crap that Ultraman is famous for.
The 320 kilometer day two was a long one and I remember thinking "how the hell do these guys do it", many times during the day.The guys had been swapping places all day and we were there for all of them giving splits and shouting encouragement. When we hit the final turn at Aspen Grove (some 30 kilometers past todays day two turn) Tom was in a bad way with really sore feet.He had been doing really well but the long climb up from Princeton had got to him and his mood was turning pretty badly.He was pretty much just barking orders at us and at the turn suddenly stopped and demanded a shoe change.Now,we are a pretty casual bunch,Mori,Leisa and I and are quite prone to playing practical jokes and generally being disrespectful at the most in-opportune times but Tom kind of scared us a bit towards the end of the day and we turned very quiet for the duration of the ride.Leisa,who was a tiny,shy girl,hid in the back seat not wanting to get involved at all past that point.Tom brought it home pretty strongly and even though he sruggled toward the end, still managed second place in a time of 11 hrs and a few seconds.Berend had ridden 10hrs 48 min for the days win and Ed bell had stayed with Tom to finish in third place only 8 minutes adrift of Tom's time.The ladies all waitied to Jimmy Brazil to finish which he did looking as male-modellish as ever less than half an hour after Ed.So after two days of combat,Tom had managed to generate a huge 61 minute lead over Ed with the rest of the field way back in another time zone.It seemed Toms race to lose....and he tried.
Day three was the first time I got the chance to see one of the most beautiful run courses you could imagine(well,except for the last bit) and we had a great time standing on the side of the road handing nutrition to Tom as he ran confidently,swapping places with with Ed,Georg and Jim,(whom I may recall wore speedos on the day)Tom was doing really well and was keeping his nemesis Ed Bell within his site while Jim Brazil started to try pull away.We wren't concerned about Jim as he was too far back timewise to worry about.It was all about Ed,who was,let's face it was pretty miserable to everyone concerned.At the time we didn't like him at all.
It was during the start of the second marathon that Tom requested some continued help pacing and as I was Ironman fit I joined him again and ran with him while handing him nutrition.I'd already done some running with him but he wanted somene there the whole time.No worries.It was also a chance for me to finally get to know they guy.We started chatting away and he wanted to know all about Mori,Leisa and myself and I think ttha whole Ulraman family thing started to take hold.His driven,focussed attitude changed and he mellowed out a lot,maybe too much.During the last half marathon his condition really started to deteriorate and he struggled.Jim was nowhere to be seen and as Tom hit the highway(we finished in the southern end of Penticton back then unlike in Summerland where we finish today)he started to walk.Mori was pacing him at the time and he didn't know what to do so I got out and swapped with Mori.I tried to get him to run but he wouldn't have any of it and now we were in trouble of losing the huge lead Tom had built over Ed.
Mori and Leisa drove past us when we hit Trout Creek just as I spied a gas station and I called for them to stop and get coke for Tom while trying to keep him mvoing forward.He was a mess and was now losing serious time to Ed as we slowly got closer to town.I fed Tom a bunch of coke but his condition got worse and he started to cry.It was the single most amazing thing I had ever witnessed in a race,The guy who had won two Ironman races and who had been so strong and so in control all weekend simply went to pieces right in front of me.I had to do something!
I started to yell at him to run from one post to the next but that din't work then I told him about the people back at home who had supported him during his training and were waiting for news of the race finish.That didn't work.Finally I'd had enough of the blubbering and did what I do best,I told him like it is,no touchy feely shit.I said " Look mate,I know you are hurting but so am I.I've run over 50 kilometers with you today and I don't want to be here either so you either start running and try to win this thing or we can get in the fucking car and go home".Well, he turned and looked down on me and smiled,he said okay and started to run.
What we didn't know was that up ahead,Ed Bell was really running hard for the win but had taken a wrong turn up the river channel bikepath and wasn't on the road like he was supposed to be.He had run a long way down the path before he was told of his mistake and to his credit,turned around and ran back to where he went off course and started down the highway.That mistake may have cost him the race,we will never know.
Our crew meanwhile had taken off to the finish to report in on Tom who they said was near death and had no chance of winning let alone finishing the day.Four kilometeres behind though Tom was having one last pee break and chatting with me as he prepared his head for the charge to the finish and what a charge it was.He had put all the bad attitude away and whatever demons he had in him were left behind on that highway.He ran down the road like it was a 10k race.I could barely keep up and the reaction of the folks assembled
at the finish was priceless as we ran past and made ready for he final 200 meters.
He jogged into finish and had held on to his first place position to become the innuagural winner of the Ultraman Canada Triathlon Championships, beating out a classy Ed Bell by around 32minutes and Georg Peters by and hour and a half.
It was an amazing weekend and I learned so much about what can be achieved by us if we just get our heads in the right place.I also learned that sometimes it is that strangest of things that lifts ones spirits.Tom and I had done battle with each other out there and Mori had done a great job keeping the crew together but it was one comment but my quiet,shy, little girlfriend Liesa that had Tom share just how much he needed us all.At the awards she was telling me that she didn't feel like she did anything at all to help and that she had been pretty useless to Tom.When Tom heard that he said she couldn't be more wrong as everytime he felt tiered or down and wanted to quit during the whole weekend all he did was look at her and think why would this girl put herself through two days of hell on the road helping some guy she had never met.He said that it was that beautiful smile on her sweet little face that he looked for every time he felt like he wanted to stop.It reminded him of the girl he had at home and that was all the motivation he needed.
Tom,Mori and I are still very good friends all these years later ( Mori is crewing for me this year) and I know that we will always have a special conection as when you go through the hell Tom did that third day it is impossible not to give something of yourself to those who helped you through it.That is how it is with family,that is how it is with friends and that is how it is in Ultraman!
Ultraman Canada Race results 1993
www.ultramancanada.com/race-results/1993-2
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