September..... Momar time. Even though we haven't really run in a few months, and I've ridden my little bike once in the last few months, September and the Momar came to pass with no consideration for our pressed-for-time schedule.
Marc and Joan first raced the Momar about 5 years ago, and there's something kind of addictive about this sufferfest! We've raced it several times since, as a team of four and two, and Burnaby in the spring was going to be our last Momar.
What's really neat about the Momar is that there are an infinite number of ways you can make mistakes. The navigation legs add a dimension that forces the navigator to make a whole lot of decisions, and allows the rest of the team to practice shutting their mouth and running. I have no sense of direction, but since shutting my mouth is also not my forte, there's always a challenge. Burnaby, thanks to a very tight orienteering course through SFU campus, and a poorly timed (well-timed? since we had to do Cumby as a result?) thunderstorm threatening to dissolve our map, we may have spent a few extra minutes (or an hour) running around in the rain. MOMAR Cumberland was the rematch!
The really amazing thing about racing is running into so many familiar people - some people I see only at races but quite consistently, and there are also lots of old friends and riding buddies there, and race organizers that put such an astronomical amount of time and effort into these races and I'm slowly getting to know. The volunteers and extremely encouraging fellow racers add a great energy and positive spin on the effort the race takes, and every year I know more people and come away with all kinds of positive energy!
Taper week - started with climbing, working overnight without being able to sleep, Marc working with Andrew on his kitchen until the last possible moment, the firm decision to have everything packed at least 2 days in advance.... On Thursday night we packed until around 10 pm, then I slept for an hour and went to work. Off work at 10, slept from 11am until 1 - then Marc was home from Andrew's and it was time to pack the car and get the super-awesome double surfski beast from Deep Cove Kayaks - and hit the ferry. Third last car to get on. PHEW doesn't describe it. Semi-coma in car, sign into Cumberland and head to Joan and Kevin's who they graciously offered to let us riff-raff hang out for the weekend.
The morning of the race we got up nice and early, drank coffee with Joan and Kevin and then off to the start line. More frantic packing - hadn't we finished this part????? And down to get the map. Joan brought our dogs, Chris showed up to cheer, and we ran into quite a few other racers we know. Lynn even wore her super cool Big Dog jersey! And Pippa was recognized by a racer as the logo!
Big Dog Biking Jerseys - aren't they AWESOME? Looking rested, eager, and yes - I do need a haircut. And I have 15 minutes to post this before I have to get downtown and get one, so here goes!
My tri shorts - look very stupid, but I've tried wearing running shorts over top but they get stuck on the bike seat. And what else can I wear that I can sit in a wet boat for an hour, ride a mountain bike 15 km, run 10 km and never notice them? They're awesome, so stop laughing.
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| Start line - all the pretty boats |
The front seat is sort of a bucket seat sunk nice and deep. That's where the rudder controls are, and Marc can just reach the foot pedals. I have the back seat - which oddly enough is perched a lot higher and more precariously on the hull. I can just reach the pedals, and although the water looks nice and calm, the boat with the race director and photographers came past us about 6 times to get more pictures of racers - and the wake just about killed us. I actually completely swamped once, screamed twice, got rammed by the smart guys drafting us 4 times, and we couldn't catch the surfski just ahead to draft them for an easier ride. We definitely need to learn more about the boat. And I have tendonitis - again - which I knew halfway through the paddle but there was nothing to do other than PADDLE!!!!
We did make it out as the last surfski but before the kayaks, so a nice quick start and avoided the crush of boats when they all come in at once. Don't we look cool here?!
There's no pictures of the next 5 hours because we're running through the woods like little rabbits, then riding bikes.
After the kayak we hopped on our bikes and rode to the trails, and because we couldn't eat or drink in our stupid tippy boat I was feeling a little worse for wear. We chugged a lot of water and some 'tasty' sugary snacks on the way, and decided to ride up the road rather than the trails just to let our bodies replenish some energy. I think riding up the trail may have been faster, but at the time the road was the better decision. Up the double hill to the top of Baker's Dozen - oddly enough the double hill that I used to stop in the middle of for "recovery" was not actually all that hard.... must be the race adrenaline.
On with the runners, get a new map and start running. Uphill of course. This is the first MOMAR where I've seen a mandatory bushwack checkpoint, and I was so glad Marc as the navigator. We hit the trail to the first checkpoint, and as other people ran down to the main road and around Marc just headed straight through the trees in the middle of nowhere, about 5 minutes later we were on Grub - to the end and up a trail - and then he walked us right onto the checkpoint. Same thing again - along a bluff in the trees rather than running around - and up a hill where several friendly cheering volunteers guarded the next checkpoint. We headed down the bluff to the "rough trail" - plan was to hit that, turn right and there would be the bushwack checkpoint - but somehow the rough trail was still too unremarkable because we ran right over it. At the steeper hillside we turned right and explored the top of Cumberland Forest for longer than was pleasant, turned back and did the same again..... until we finally came out at the checkpoint. Damn. The rough trail by now had a lot more footprints on it, and couldn't be missed....
Running along logging road, down a technical trail... more running.... more running.... more roots that grab my feet... more rocks to catch my fall... We zipped around other runners quite handily, and I liked the guy that said "watch your ankles here" thinking he was talking to his race partner, and we ran down trusting gravity and reflexes. Although passing all those people I felt fast and reckless I could never quite keep up to Marc, but he slowed occasionally and I would put on a sprint in the less death defying bits. Finally the last checkpoint, then up Stub for 10 minutes of uphill pain and down the road to the bikes. Yay!!! I love my bicycle....
More cheerful volunteers handing out water and tasty sugary things, and we headed up the hill to the top of Bucket of Blood. We chose the hike-a-bike rather than the road, and again, I'm not sure what the best way would have been. Marc's legs decided that this race would be a good time to cramp into little knots, and he may have uttered some choice phrases not entirely complimentary to MOMAR adventures. Finally we hit the lake at the top and headed down the road - and who would we see at the intersection but Al and Terry! I loved seeing all the people I miss during this race - we couldn't have organized as good a reunion! Up the gravel road to the Switchback checkpoint - and to enter the draw I "had to" drink some (extremely tasty) beer. That hardship over with Marc headed downhill - from Switchback into Potluck onto Thirsty Beaver to Teapot and That Dam trail - the longest coolest downhill I could imagine!!! The bridges were amazing, including the big bermed bridge and the rollercoaster, riding through the burnt out tree and past the giant stump carving - amazing work! The trail was perfect - a bit sticky and a jumpable pumpable cornery delight for a very long downhill run. Marc's legs kept cramping and occasionally shooting straight out over jumps and not coming back under him, so if I went slightly faster than I was comfortable and just enough that the trail was actually just a big blur around me - I could just stay on his wheel. We caught the short course racers including our friend Liz, who also cheered us on - and ripped at ridiculous speed to Allen Lake.
The mystery event at the Lake meant I had to swim with a pool noodle to a checkpoint out in the water while Marc stood up to his waist to punish his cramping legs. Back on land we headed out to Crafty Butcher and downtown Cumberland, then out to Comox Lake for the last orienteering leg.
Definitely looking a little more ragged.... Hour 5.
The last orienteering was a technical collection of hornets, steep uphill trails, steep downhill trails and thick brush. I walked across an 8 inch log 15 feet in the air just to avoid more uphill, which was kind of neat as other competitors bushwacked the gully under my feet. We were a bit tired and stupid, which unfortunately made us wander around repeatedly missing the hollow with one CP, but eventually we had them all and ran back out and to the finish line.
So many things can happen in a MOMAR. I think that must be part of what makes it such a great race! For all the mistakes, there were a lot of things that went right. And because of the mistakes we have to do it again - just to see if we can get it right!
Sunday we rode with friends and dogs - up to Upper Switchback and all the way down, then had an amazing dinner and a well deserved sleep.
More friends, more visiting, great food by Chris and Darcee and then a rush for the ferry. And a sailing wait, just because. But we did make it home, and between writing I'm doing dishes, laundry, called my mother, got a haircut and had lunch.
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| Marc's drawprize and our second place medal |
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| The End |
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