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Just
another epic workout story…
By Stic Harris
So I know you've all been dying to hear from me. But this one I promise
will be fairly short. I've been grant writing for the last two months
and have no want to keep typing. Yet several people have often asked
about how I train to do the races I compete in. And I thought the events
of this past Saturday meritted a short email.
I recently joined Atlanta Trailblazers, a local club based around adventure
racing. This past weekend was a get together at a member's house. Chris
O'Connell set up a training session all day on Saturday out of his
place on the Chattahoochee River. The idea was that there were four
stages, and you would complete each stage with a different team. In
the end you would meet a lot of people, allowing you to meet potential
teammates - an important hurdle in the whole adventure race thingy.
Although I still struggle with the whole "team" concept of
adventure racing, I admit I'm hooked. If I didn't have a mountain out
in Nevada laughing its ass off at me (not to mention the memory of
me backstroking in a National Championship race) I'd drop Xterra and
do adventure races all summer. So in the end, after Bill bugging me
that I should go to this event, I decided I'd do it. Afterall, it's
just training, right?
I woke up that morning, loaded the car with my bike and gear and took
off for Chris's place. Four miles later I was turning around to go
back and get my bike shoes, the ones sitting on my kitchen table. Perhaps
I should have paid more attention to that sign. Bike shoes retrieves,
I was off again.
The nice thing about training is that the places I train are so much
closer than the places I race. It's actually nice to not be in the
car for hours on end with all of that time to think about things that
I don't really feel like thinking about.
I arrived at Chris's place to see Bill's smiling face. It's disgusting
that he's always happy. I'd love to think that he wasn't particularly
happy at the 14 hour mark of NGAR in January, but then I don't remember
the 14 hour mark of NGAR, so I'll drop that one...
We gathered out back on the balcony. There were over a dozen of us.
the first thing Chris had us do was fill out these sheets with our
racing strengths and weaknesses, why we like adventure racing, and
where we expected to finish - finish, top 25 or top 5. I looked futiley
for number 1, but he'd left that off. Didn't really understand that
one...
We went around in a circle and introduced ourselves. Telling where
we came from and what we liked. Admittedly, it was before ten on a
Saturday, so I just read off my sheet.
The teams were randomly determined. My first team consisted of Jim,
Terri and Shelly. Jim is new to the sport and wants to give it a try.
Shelly will be running the NYC marathon and had a strong stride. Terri
had done more races than the rest of us combined. We would be running/hiking/crawling
seven miles. Down one bank of the 'hooch and back the other side. We
took off as the first group. The "trail" was obvious at times,
but at others it was non-existant. A pattern developed. Up and down.
There are cliffs that line the river at some points, and we had to
go over them. It was actually fun. It made me think back to being a
kid and jumping from rock to rock in Maine or at Green Lake park, moving
my feet as fast as I could over the rocks, always looking three or
four stones ahead and hoping you didn't land in between rocks. My teammates
almost immediately started calling me Billy, after billy goat. Then
it turned to Spiderman, as I would climb the rocks faster.
We made it out to the Rte 41 bridge and crossed to return on the other
side. There was no sign of a team behind us. This side was harder,
the trail being truly non-existant at times. At one point we were at
the water's edge and rounded a corner to find the rock led straight
down to the water. The trail was gone. First we tried climbing the
rock a ways to see if we could get around a little higher up. I volunteered
to go ahead and scout. I crawled up around the corner to find a narrow
ledge.
Part of the whole team concept is you have to determine what your team
can and cannot do. I sat on the corner of that rock and looked down.
I was agile (or stupid) enough to get around and make it. I turned
around and called down to them.
" I don't know guys..."
My face was apparently telling enough. They didn't even want to look.
I for one am still wondering if I could have made it around the corner.
We back tracked and went up and over. In the end we discovered other
teams had merely swam the 20 feet around the corner and gotten back
on the trail. We could have saved 10-15 minutes. Oh well. We finsihed
our seven miles and waited for the other teams.
Now I had to be with three new people. Yuck. I hate change.
The next section was a mountain biking section. My teammates included
our host Chris, Vernon and another guy whose name escapes me. But he
rode a Cannondale Jekyll, so we'll call him Jekyll. Funny how I can
remember every detail about his bike, but not his name... He and I
took off. We were both pretty good, and pushed the first technical
uphill section. We waited at the top for our teammates and then took
off back down the hill, screaming past those on their way up. At the
bottom came a flat section on a road for about 3 miles. I pushed here,
building a lead. I caught up to a triathlete on a road bike. I don't
think he was pleased to turn around and find a mountain bike right
on his ass. He dropped the hammer, and I went with him.
Then it was back on rough terrain. I have no idea how far we went in
the end. 13? 15? My odometer still hasn't melted from NGAR.
The next section was the one of particular interest. Kayaking. A simple
boat trip up to the bridge and back. Terri made a comment that if I
was as good at kayaking as I was biking and running, she'd hit me.
No worry there...
Bill had brought his high-performance whitewater boat. A little 10
foot thingy that you cramp your body into and if you flex your little
toe it will move the entire boat to the right. It has the stability
of a see-saw.
" Want to take my boat out Stic?"
Bill, Bill, Bill.
There's a pattern developing here. I'm an epidemiologist, I tend to
notice patterns.
" Sure, Bill."
It's just a boat, right? I've been in boats before.
I put on the PFD and stepped into the spray skirt. Then into the tiny
boat. Bill went over some basics and I actually listened.
You sit down and put your feet straight ahead of you. Then you squeeze
your knees out and under the gunwales. This in turn gives you a lot
of leverage with your body on the boat. Then the skirt is attached
to the boat with an emergency pull in front.
" Are you ready Stic?"
I took off my Sabres Eastern Conference Champions hat and looked at
it. If I kept it on then it would certainly get wet. So if I took it
off then I'd stay dry. Or so my logic went.
Bill pushed and I was out and afloat in the river.
The river. I suppose I should mention that it rained all last week.
And it's Spring. And the currant was pretty fierce. I should have known
better.
But I didn't.
I bobbed up and down like a cork. And started spinning. Keeping the
boat headed in one direction was a virtual impossibility. I was paddling
like a madman, something that in retrospect probably made it worse.
Finess would probably have worked better. But since I have the subtlety
of a Mack truck, that never happened.
I had started out on a relatively calm section just inside of an island
in the river. The plan was to paddle upstream, into the major portion
of the river, to the 285 bridge and then back down stream.
The plan went to hell quickly. As soon as I was out in the main section
of the river, I was not in control. Then again, as soon as I was shoved
(by Bill) into the river, I was probably out of control. I decided
to float down the inside of the island and then paddle back up to the
sheltered area and just beach the boat. Twice I almost capsized, twice
I managed to keep the boat upright. And I have pretty good balance.
I came down to the bottom of the island and went to cut out toward
the shore. It happened in a blink of an eye. I hit something - rock,
log, fish, dead body, and over I went. I snapped my hip to keep the
boat turning all the way around, back toward the oxygenated air. But
it stopped. Dead even, upside down. With me wedged inside. The front
of the boat was up against a log and wouldn't turn.
Hmm.
This can't be good. In fact this is down right embarrassing. Don't
panic. Somewhere in the back of my mind a clock started. I let go of
the paddle and felt around for the log, the bottom, anything that I
could use to flip myself back over. Nothing. I thrashed around, until
I realized I didn't have a helmet on and if I banged my head into a
rock, the game was over.
Shit.
I had to pull the release. Where was it again? I felt the loop and
yanked. I felt the water rush in and cover my legs. Cold. The boat
was now filled with water. I grabbed the gunwales and pushed trying
to get out of the boat.
I couldn't budge.
Fear.
My legs were wedged tightly. The clock was still ticking. And I was
running out of air.
I thought of three different things.
1. Who was going to turn in my grant for me on Monday if I was dead?
2. I'm going to die, upside down in a kayak? Are you kidding me? This
just isn't possible. I don't want to end up a Drama in Real Life in
Readers Digest.
3. The Buffalo Sabres haven't won the Cup yet...
Panic.
I will not fear, fear is the mind killer.
I started pounding on my right thigh, trying to get it out of the boat.
Damn it Bill, what did you get me into? Boy, is he going to be pissed
if I die in his boat.
Pop. My knee comes out from under the gunwale. The other slid out and
I was free.
Oxygen.
Light.
Cold.
I come to the surface.
Bill and Shelly are running down the shore to my aid. Another kayaker
is racing over across the current. Somehow in the thick of it all I
notice that he's in a sleek racing kayak and he's coming straight at
me with no variability whatsoever.
Rat bastard.
The paddle has floated away. I lunge for it and try to find the bottom.
No luck. The boat, while not sunk, certainly isn't exactly a floatation
device. I try to drag it toward the shore and find a bottom.
There. I'm standing, kind of. Partially floating back on my PFD. I
signal to the kayaker that I'm okay.
" You sure?"
"
Yeah." unless you count dying of embarrassment.
Bill is yelling at me. I tell him to give me a minute. I'm utterly
exhausted. I lay there staring up at the sky.
Okay, so maybe I can't do everything.
Yet.
It takes me 10 more minutes to get the boat to the shore. Once there
I can't help pull it out at all. Any strength I had has been sapped
away by the cold and exertion. Shelly offers to take the paddle. Stubbornly
the chivalrous part of me refuses. She's a girl and it's certainly
not that she can't carry the paddle, it's that I'm a guy and so I'll
carry it for her.
I fall over.
She takes the paddle and I don't argue anymore.
Minutes later I'm up in front of the grill. The adrenaline is there
and I have this feeling in my stomach of one who has cheated death.
It's been a while since I had the feeling.
I thank Shelly and Bill for being there. But in truth I don't think
they have any idea how happy I was that they were there. Not that they
saved my life or anything. I did that. But just that they were there.
Thanks guys.
A half hour later (and a changed shirt) I was off on the 4th leg -
an orienteering section with my teammates Vicki and Chris. I admittedly
wasn't thinking too much about checkpoints. I was remembering the feel
of the water rushing into the boat. That and the feeling in my stomach
when my leg wouldn't come out.
The grant is done now. I turned it in with 49 minutes to spare.
I'm off to Texas for a short vacation the day after tomorrow. Monday
I got an email from Susan Bricker, whom I'm staying with while in Austin.
She wanted to know if I wanted to go kayaking while I was there.
I haven't answered her yet...
Xterra starts May 3rd. Nationals in Tahoe are September 28th. Worlds
in Hawaii are October 26th. Stay tuned.
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