A few months ago (on my last Davo's Corner
in the monthly newsletter) I wrote about joining an elite team of paddlers and
heading to Cairns for an ultra marathon race using 6 man Outrigger canoes that
race in "Open water".
This is my story of the lead up to and the
actual event (and I may add some of the after-story).
This will take a few blogs (or longer if I
get side tracked along the way and discuss other aspects of my life)
It all started a few years ago - I was in
my normal peak physical fitness (along with good looks and radiant
personality), for example I was able to jump puddles in a single bound, I could
lift heavy weights with ease (it was not uncommon to see me lift two bottles of
beer – whilst they were full – above my head), my muscles were bulging with
energy (in fact my chest muscles had
expanded to extend to my waist) and I was able to “run like the wind” (my wife
did point out at the time that the only wind I could outrun was the hot air
coming from my mouth – but she has always been a cynical person who has envied
my fitness).
Over the last 15 years of intense training
I had tried different sports - dry land synchronized swimming, backward
mountain bike riding on flat ground, competitive belly flopping off the side
of a pool, upside down buck jumping on rocking horses and (my favourite)
- 3 legged racing with only one person.
There was no doubt (in my mind) that I was
an elite athlete and I was disappointed (and surprised) when Olympic selectors
did not recognize “Greatness” even when I was willing to send YouTube's and
Facebook photos of myself in training (in fact I was threatened with court
action if I ever sent them another photo of myself in purple
"Speedos" before a Dry Land synchronized Swimming training session I
held at the local park).
So I had decided to look at other
sports and felt that sitting in a canoe (I already had the big bottom, so I
would not need any form of padding on my seat) and paddling was the sport for
me.
So I joined the local Outriggers Club (at
the mouth of the Burnett River) and started on a journey that would see me off
Cairns in mountainous waves racing towards Port Douglas with 5 other fit and
insane men (who seemed to enjoy the pain and the suffering that is part of
ultra marathon racing).
But I get ahead of myself.
I joined the club and immediately I was
recognized for future greatness by the rest of the paddlers (they obviously
recognized that by having me in their boat was a huge disadvantage to other
crews and that the other boats would not be able to keep up - so as a
group they all voted that it would be best not to be in any boat or at least
not in their boat). It was often stated at training, that they would prefer me
to go on a single man canoe and preferably in the opposite direction then they
were going.
If I went in a 6 person canoe the other
paddlers would be concerned of the tremendous advantage they had and were often
heard to yell "I want to paddle in another canoe" or at one time 5 of
the crew I was with suddenly got emergency calls and had to go home before we
could start.
It was not long before I became a
"valued" member of the club and earned a nickname - "Ballast".
(We all know that earning a nickname means that you are respected and well
liked in any sporting club.)
So after 3 days of intense training I was
ready "to take on the world" and I was surprised when I heard that it
normally takes people up to 2 years of intense training to get ready for racing.
It was fortunate that I have that natural ability to "lift" and
become tuned for the high level of sport.
I was lucky that there was a race event
that the club wanted to compete in and they were missing one crew member - so
in I grabbed the opportunity and entered my first race. It was only sprint
racing - over 2Kl. "It will be over before you know it" the captain of
the team told me.
What they did not tell me is that a top
canoe will travel around 12Kl/hr and that means that the race would take around
10 – 15 minutes. I am not sure what went wrong in our race but I swear our race
took 2 hours (the rest of the crew disagree but I am sure it took that long).
I turned up on the day “ready for action” -
I was wearing my yellow lyrca shirt and pants (in case we flipped and the
rescue boat would be able to see me), I had on my green "legionnaires
cap" and my pink gloves. I had drunk 6 liters of water to stop dehydrating
and I had eaten 8 protein bars and 5 bananas (for potassium). In my research I
had found the biggest reasons why people "hit the wall" is because of
lack of energy or from dehydration.
I know that I "sloshed” as I went from
the beach to the boat and I know I sounded like a waterbed as I climbed over
the edge of the canoe and got into my seat but I was not going to let my crew
down.
I was wearing my heart monitor to make sure
I did not enter into the anaerobic zone "too early" and I knew my
maximum heart rate was 180 per minute. As we paddled out to the starting line I
noticed my heart rate was now at 280 beats per minute - "the energy and
protein bars are working well" I thought.
In OC6 racing the starter uses different
coloured flags and the captain of the boat calls these out "We have an
orange, now it’s yellow, green is up" etc. This means that the canoe and
its crew must get ready to edge up to the starting line, stop on the line and
then start when the green flag is dropped. But I was not aware of this at the
time so when the captain said "We have an orange" - I replied that I
only had one banana but I did have 2 protein bars and I was more than willing
to share.
The green flag fell and we were off! The
other boats surged ahead as the members of each crew paddled in unison and
drove their canoe forward. When I say “the other boats” what I really meant was
that ours seemed to have something holding us back – maybe the captain had
thrown out a sea anchor or something. We more or less “staggered” over the
starting line and seemed to decelerate from there.
The crew were yelling at me “to slow down
and stop thrashing” – I was a virtual whirlwind of action. My paddle was going
in and out of the water at a great rate – I was throwing water all over the
people behind me and filling up the canoe with sea water at a rapid rate. So I
grabbed the bailing bucket and started throwing water out of the boat but in my
haste I was now drowning the crew in front of me – at least now everyone was in
no danger of overheating from the sun.
The crew member in front of me grabbed the
bailing bucket and started to lower the water level in the boat whilst the
other members started to paddle. By now the other boats were at least 200
meters ahead of us but all was not lost – we had a plan. If we all paddled to
out maximum and stayed in unison then our superior fitness should give us a
good chance to at least not be last.
So we settled in – stroking around 75
strokes per minute and looking good.
We seemed to have paddled for a long distance
when the cramps started to occur in my body (the crew stated later that we had
only gone 100 meters but I find that hard to believe).
The first cramp hit me in the right leg
causing my leg to bend. Then within a minute or so the left side of the abdomen
started to cramp causing me to start to bend to the left at the waist. Then the
right arm started to cramp in the biceps. By now I was a cripple – contractions
hitting me from every side and not able to move my arms or my legs properly
causing my paddling technique to become nonexistent (surprising it was reported
later that it was about this time our boat started to go faster and catch the
other boats in the race).
Then the pain started in the chest!
There is talk that there was squealing
sounds “like a girl” coming from the canoe as I clutched my chest and dropped
my paddle over the side of the boat. There is malicious talk that I went “white
as a ghost” and started sobbing but I find that hard to believe. (I am used to
pain – it was only the other day that I stubbed my toe on a toadstool and did
not make a sound).
Obviously the crew was concerned and amidst
cries of sympathy such as “Bloody hell!” and “Bugger” we headed back to the
beach.
After extensive tests and emergency
treatment I survived (obviously I would not be writing this article) – there
was some talk about “Gas associated with the overabundance of fluids and fruit
fermenting in the stomach” but no one was completely sure of the cause of the
pain. All we know is when I finally loosened my lyrca pants and removed my
shirt, I burped (and passed wind from other areas) and the blood returned to my
face and the pain seemed to go.
I would like to thank the ambulance
workers, the air sea rescue, the volunteers on the shore who carried me to the
hospital tent, my crew members for being so understanding and my wife (for not
putting photos and messages on Facebook).
Next month I will continue the saga that
lead to me paddling in a canoe around 8 Kl out to sea off Cairns in high seas
and strong winds and heading towards Port Douglas (I was not scared – I just
acted that way to make the rest of the crew feel brave).
Dr David
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