But the numbers don't tell you anything compared to what we experienced, so let me tell you the real story...Charles Beaudoin - 5:22:51 - 35 - 16th
Bernard Doth - 6:15:52 - 96 - 9th
Rod Willmot - 7:03:16 - 135 - 12th
First, the trip: it was easy and pleasant from beginning to end. Among the three of us there were never any problems, it was always good humor, good conversation, good music... Each of us adapted to the needs of the others, and whenever we had a chance to do something exciting, each of us jumped right in. I couldn't have asked for better travelling companions!
If we made any mistake at all, it was to expect our journey to be longer than it was. Leaving Montreal before 9 am Thursday, we arrived in Athens at 7 am Friday... which was great, except that we couldn't get into our room until 2 pm! Forced to kill time, we did a little tourist-stuff (Athens is pretty), before seeking out a restaurant for breakfast (a trip in itself before we finally found the place everyone recommended). Then we shopped for groceries, and drove around looking for a place to skate. Basically we made the best of every moment. Later in the day, after resting for a bit, we went to skate at a beautiful place outside the city, a sports complex surrounded by forest.
Saturday was for resting, registering, socializing... At the registration we met up with old friends from all over, including, for me, Mike Margolis with whom I did A2A the year before, and Bruce Johnson, who was delighted to see Charles again. We also renewed friendships with three American skaters who did the Défi last year: Ed Leibnitz of Empire Speed, Blake Lambert, and John Wichers of Boston Inline. Plus we hooked up with two Toronto Inline skaters, Gillian Clarke and Lanny Totton.
At the end of Saturday afternoon we took the Torontonians with us to skate at our practice circuit out in the woods, which was perfect preparation for the race. Then in the evening we had to return to the registration hall to hear the speech by Henry Zuver, the founder of A2A. This gave us a chance to find a volunteer to drive our van the next day, a sweet and lovely girl named Jessica. Afterwards, John Wichers invited us -- the Québécois and the Torontonians -- to join the Boston club for supper at a Mexican restaurant. (Bernard hesitated for a second or two, convinced that he had to eat pasta before the race...) Somebody bought beer for all, somebody else bought margaritas for all, and as for the food, oh man, it was good. I met a ton of people, and when I asked around the table if anyone else was shooting for 7 hours, I found my teammate for the next day, Chrisy Grudzien.
Sunday morning we got up at 5h30, starting-time being 7h30. Much to our surprise, it was freezing outside! Naturally we were ready for anything, but even so, everyone suffered at the start. After the warmup I found Chrisy waiting at the line, a few minutes before the start. Suddenly I realized I didn't have my Camelbak on! I'd left it in the van... Unfortunately I'd just sent Jessica off to the motel to look for another skater's bottle of Advil (she was convinced she needed Advil to prevent pain later). I waited and waited, looking up one street to keep watch on the skaters, looking up another to see if Jessica was coming... all in vain. I ended up starting about half a minute late, and it took me 15 minutes of chasing to catch up with Chrisy. Not that I ever panicked... I just decided I'd skate the first hour+ dry, and after the first checkpoint I'd do the rest of the race with a stock of water bottles in my shirt. (Last year the checkpoints near the end ran out of water, so it was important to be prepared.)
Before going on, I have to tell you that my training really went to hell after my brush with heat-stroke in September. I was ready for A2A in August, but after my heat-stroke, instead of getting better I just got worse. In the last few weeks even my technique was deteriorating. (I didn't know at the time that my 5-yr-old boots were part of the problem.) Nevertheless, the year before I'd finished A2A in 8:08, taking it so easy that at the end I could easily have gone on for another 50 km. So this year, I figured that even if I couldn't expect all that much, I knew I would finish faster than last year. All I had to do was skate my own skate, make a good effort, and work with at least one other skater to get the best possible speed out of the downhills.
After catching up to Chrisy, for a couple of hours I jumped from group to group because the pack she was in was too big, with many skaters hindering each other more than they helped. Finally things smoothed out and we continued together, the two of us plus occasionally a few others who knew how to work together. Now, A2A is all about hills, and Chrisy, being rather more muscle-bound than I am, was a pretty strong climber, whereas me -- oh god! I'd done so much more hill-climbing than last year, but it was as if I'd done nothing! I was, I am, and I will always be among the weakest climbers in the world. (Naturally, I'm scheming already about how to change that next year....)
Anyhow, well before Dacula (the so-called half-distance at 61 km), my legs were starting to give out. We climb constantly to reach Dacula, with a few incredible downhills followed by uphills that are even higher. Soon I was no longer able to go into a deep crouch for the downhills, my legs were burning too much. On the climbs, while Chrisy went up just fine, I had to work slowly, painfully, patiently. Chrisy's example inspired me to push a lot harder than I would have if I'd been alone, because I was suffering badly, the worst pain I've experienced in all my life. "Poor Chrisy," you might be thinking, "to have such a weakling for a teammate!" And yet, we had complementary strong points: I'm aerodynamic for speed on downhills, I was stronger than her on the flat, and I had a better understanding of the course and of the relationships between time/distance/effort. On the downhills I always went in front (forming the point of the knife), and it was amazing how fast we went. In a single descent we could pick up 200 meters on skaters who weren't working together -- catch them and pass them like an express train. Astonishing, and with just the two of us.
Chrisy knew that if she ever went on without me from the top of a hill, I'd catch her either on the downhill or later on along the flat, with the only result being that we both would have gone slower. But I never left it up to her to keep that in mind. On every uphill, while she pulled away till she was 10 to 20 meters ahead, I maintained contact with my voice, even ordering her to wait at the top. Do you understand? If I'd ever given up, I wouldn't have said anything; if I'd lacked the courage to ignore my pain and push harder, I would have let us get too far apart, or I would have started complaining, and inevitably she would have made the mistake of going on alone -- until I caught her. For me all this represents a personal victory. Even going through the worst pain I'd ever known, I kept a clear head, I never stopped believing in myself and knowing exactly what I had to do. I'm telling you all this because it's important, and many skaters don't know it. When things are going badly it's too easy to say, "The others are stronger, I'm hurting so much, I don't have any right to impose..." Which is stupid.
I'll interrupt the story to recount my best moment of the race. It was just outside Atlanta, one of those intersections that you approach on a downhill, where you risk keeping your speed while peering ahead to see if there's a cop to clear the way for you. Never slowing down, I shouted, "Is there a cop? Is there a cop? Yes! There's a cop! LET'S GO!!!" Full speed ahead, but on our side of the road there were two lanes of cars to get around, I shouted instructions to Chrisy, Go around them on the left, but then we had to make a screaming right turn, so fast that I nearly slid under the cars coming in the other direction, then under a bridge and right away threading between other cars to make a left -- made it! And then I howled like a beast, howled with pure joy. Five seconds of 300% adrenaline, the best of the best!
To continue... The closer you get to Atlanta the flatter it gets, even though the surfaces aren't as good. For the last 15 km Chrisy was tired and confused; she thought we were going to finish really late, and every 30 seconds she complained about the road or the fact we were climbing a bit or the fact there was so much further to go. This is where I contributed the most, because I knew exactly where we were and how much time it would take to finish; what's more, now that we were onto the flats and false-flats I was in my element, I could have gone on for hours. I pulled all the rest of the way, while constantly reassuring her that we'd finish with a great time. And as it turned out, by finishing in 7:03 I improved by an hour and 5 minutes, while Chrisy improved by an hour and 10. Success!
After the finish it was like heaven, everyone spreads out on the grass, everyone congratulates everyone else, we meet our friends again, cheer the latest arrivals, eat, drink, do our stretches. Eventually we walked over to the Sheraton for the awards ceremony, where Chrisy discovered that she'd won first place in her category. It was a complete surprise, she was really happy! And afterwards, once again the gang from Boston invited us to join them for supper, this time at a ribs joint called Fat Matt's. It was the crowning touch, a fabulous celebration, the reward for all our training. Amazing food, a terric blues trio, pitchers of beer, twenty or so joyous skaters from Boston, Chicago, Toronto, and Montreal/Sherbrooke. For me and many others I think, that was the happiest night of the whole year.
Those of you who read these words and who have never taken part in such an event, do you understand now how worth-it it is to take the risk, to save up for the trip, to train, to go for it? You may finish way back, you may hurt all the way (or not!), but you'll come back with a marvellous experience that you'll never forget. I alway return from a long race profoundly enriched, with terrific memories and new friends, and above all with a confidence in myself that I never would have earned by sitting comfortably at home.
The night after the race (Sunday), we slept again in Athens, but at 4 am on Monday we got up for the return journey. You're probably thinking that we were all so tired that the next 22 hours of highway must have been awful. On the contrary! Beautiful music, great talk (about the race, about plans for the Défi), and a fair amount of pure crazy fun. What more can I add except that it's wonderful to be among friends, especially skater friends, especially skater friends with whom you've just shared a most excellent adventure.
Rod Willmot