1500kms and One Choked Herring.

(Scotty at CTRR)

It’s Tuesday afternoon, and I am home, finally, with an opportunity to decompress- relax, and bask in the glow of something still immeasurable.

Foreward- When I answered the call to become one of Brendan’s Volunteers back in later stages of oh-five I had yet to run a single event, not a one. So many would wonder what in the Hell I had to be thinking when I agreed to run a leg at CTRR. The quick answer is that I wasn’t thinking, or at least not properly. It seemed like a good challenge, and I did get swept up in the wave of excitement, anticipation that grew into a Tsunami that crashed upon the shores of Cape Breton like a great and terrible storm.

I had the Fredericton Half Marathon a mere two weeks before as my training goal, and as I have posted before, my bib did well. I had not had the time to really consider the magnitude of the run that would follow two weeks after. These days are an awkward time for me, and this awkwardness is shared by James (Scadian), Jaimer, Kara, and Trish too; and it all revolves around February 07. That is the date that three of us in the Merry NB Crew will deploy to Afghanistan.

I have heard that an impending deployment can be equated to being told you are suffering from a fatal illness, once you have your deployment time, everything in your life goes on hold, and stays that way for at least a year by the time the training, deployment, and return home is complete. I know Scadian and myself felt particular strain leading to this event as we really did not get a chance to prepare the way we would have liked and it was questionable to the last possible moments if we would even get to make the trek.

But fortune favored us and we did get to make the trek, though with it required our immediate return with the weight of obligations to training calling us back for 0630 Monday morning. But those 60 insane hours that covered 1500kms, 4 legs equaling almost 70kms, an 11 x 11 cabin, and one ‘choked herring’ was a journey into a place where time stood still, and all was right in the world.

I told you that to tell you this, and so you would understand the emotion and sentiment behind my words.

~Friday, the plan is coming together like a train wreck. Once we finally had the kids away, Raven accounted for, James out of the field and showered, and Trish’s kids duct taped to her van we were good to go.

Six hours and three Great Big Sea CD’s later we arrive at the Silver Dart and as if it were scripted the Maniacs were lined up right there at the door. Of course it is at this point I must apologize to all my fellow Maniacs as I was about as friendly as a cactus in the but as I was totally bone weary from a long work week and a long drive. Paying $20 for a pasta supper with no pasta and no dessert of course enhanced my mood. The three pieces of bread I had though were worth it.
We took a trek to the Firehall, and I watched the NB crew assimilate themselves into the RM Nation dancers, too cute!!!!

Then it was time to call it a night that led to the game “Let’s find our unmarked campsite” Fortunately, we found it with out too much incident, and my companions gave me my bottle and put me to bed.

~Saturday, when the day started I still had no clue what I was in for, none. Having missed the team meeting and some of the hoopla I still was not “in the know” And as we started out through the drive, the energy in the air became palpable, like its own weather front, rivaling and eventually overcoming the rain. We caught up to the trail on Leg 3 and I knew my memories, and perhaps my entire running career would never be the same again.

My run-

Well, I did Leg 6, 17.5km, rating of 4.5, with the threat of “Strong Coastal Breezes”
I was in the zone as I milled around after Scadian’s leg. I shared some shoulder time with the stunning Portia Bates, before she ran off into the horizon.
My goal was 1:40, but I wasn’t optimistic because that would have me almost matching my Half marathon pace in Fredericton, which is like running across a pool table, not a wash board.
When everyone took off it took little time before my morale was in the toilet. A group of sixty people race off in to the distance and by the first real hill I was 200-300m behind my closest competition. I checked James’ Garmin and I was maintaining 5:00km for nearly the first four km, which is well above my normal pace, and I fell further and further behind.
My support crew must have seen all the racers tearing off into the distance and thought “Oh crap” because Kara was soon there shouting and jumping and cheering. I started to feel a bit better. Then as I came over the hill I saw the red wig, and I knew all couldn’t be wrong in the world.

I kept going, remembering Sherry’s banner, and you can pick whichever slogan because I was going through them all. I figured my goal was shot, so I made a new one. I would not walk on a hill, at all, ever. Yes I am a sucker for punishment.

I was on autopilot throughout the entire mid potion of the race. I saw all the maniacs on the course and I wanted to hug them all, though I must have looked like old yeller did at the end just waiting for someone to shoot me.

Then, after my long down hill when I was starting to pass people I heard a weird reverberating echo of shouts, horns, and the odd primal beat of rocks on the guardrails. I thought it must be a trick of landscape because that noise appears to be coming from that very steep hill going the other way.

I had memorized my paper brochure and knew my leg ended with a stiff incline. When I rounded the corner and saw what was facing me I literally laughed out loud. Apparently the little jump on the brochure outline was a three-kilometer stretch steadily up hill. I redoubled my efforts and my vow to not walk, and I started to pass a few more people.

And much to my surprise as I reached the top, the mat was still there, and I could tag my wife. I had met my goal, no walking up hill; at least I had my pride. And when Kara told me my time I was stunned. 1:37 and change. Some how I had sustained a 5:35 pace, just slightly faster than my half two weeks ago.

Then it was time to don my clown gear and start cheering.

The other highlights

1) The Homestyle Restaurant in Cheticamp, huge portion sizes of Nectar and Ambrosia I swear.
2) The accomplishment of Kara finishing her leg after all she’s been through and put up with, I have more pride in that that anything.
3) I hope I was able to pay back some debts at the water station, everyone else brought so much to this entire weekend. Thank you all and I will forever be in your debt.
4) For James and I it is the end of an era, we have known each other since Grade 8 and except for a couple of short periods we have lived in the same neck of the woods and on July 10 we will be posted in separate directions. The guns, the guns, thank God the guns.
5) I hereby submit my name for next year’s events. Though this time I will coordinate a trip home from Kandahar Airfield instead of off a course.


Conclusion.

I am overwhelmed at all levels.
Personally, I am pretty dang proud of my results.
The little NB Super van that could, wow, we pulled it all together.
The entire RM CTRR team. Hm, what can one say?

Thank you all.

Oh yeah, the Choked Herring…It is a small thing, but it ended up being the running joke and defining slogan for the NB trip. It was the password that initiated the fun of the weekend. As we approached Baddeck there was a small little restaurant called the Herring Choker. It took us all by surprise and struck us quite funny. I’ll let you imagine all the lewd references that may or may not have been tossed around.