Saturday, April 30, 2005
Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?You are a child of God.Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinkingso that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us.
It is not just in some; it is in everyone. And, as we let our own light shine, we consciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
Friday, April 29, 2005
Scrap the Taiwan Race
Taiwan Action Asia Challenge (1 May): Too expensive + no sponsors = no show
And that 'other' race in Langkawi...
Langkawi Wilderness Challenge (30 April): Too far, too tiring, too short a race for the trouble... net result - no show
But then, there is the W.A.R.! The moniker could not have been more appropriate. We will be bringing to bear a smallish GoLite presence in a confrontation with the large and market-saturation behemoth that is Salomon Singapore. To say that the race sponsors have made an offer of giving $200 of vouchers to the best-dressed team in Salomon gear just smacks of aggressive marketing, literally forcing the brand name down our adventure racing community's throat. You do not see this happening on the Salomon-sponsored Raid X-Adventure and World Championships, eh?
Right now i'm doing my best to ellicit a positive response from our staunch Red Wing Shoes Pte Ltd sponsors. Their shoes have really served me well, even as i've managed to trash my pair pretty badly within two months of first putting them on (two races and some about 50 training kms of running, most of it off-road). That reminds me: I'll go talk to Ben tomorrow to see work out my proposal for a GoLite-Vasque sponsored team, or teams.
Back to the W.A.R. It shall become a war. We cannot put it any simpler. This is one war, Greg, Ian and myself have all agreed amongst ourselves, that we would win. To the legions wearing Salomon out there, i salute you. Dress up if you must, but as far as legitimate competition goes - may the best team win.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
We need Sponsors!
So much has changed since i first started this blog: Team members and race goals, training objectives and macro-cycle orientation. Guess i could call the whole thing one big 'unpredictable' game, but that would be cliched. When you're in an adventure team, you're pretty much independant as to how the team seeks out competitions, then orients itself to the requirements of each. Every race is different, so each approach must be tailor-made as well, according to the needs and demands of each race. Perhaps most pressing of all is the issue of money, something of a regular bugbear in the world of AR, our world....
Has it really come to that? Money woes? Take heart in the fact that the true spirit of AR transcends all boundaries. It was never really about the money for us.
Let me know about those air tickets, Greg. If it comes down to privateering (racing un-sponsored), we just gotta grit our teeth and say: Let's do it anyway!
Saturday, April 23, 2005
And the next race is...?
I could tell you more later... now i'm pretty much up to my neck in 'a few' things:
- last attempt sponsorshipp soliciting for the Taiwan AAC
- posting photos to all our friends from SAC
- compiling reviews + editing work for Togoparts
- getting photos done up for the reviews
- training for Taiwan
- talking shop with Ian... about the future of the sport in Singapore
- sourcing for new blood... female team members, that is
- running short of money & time
- searching for, waiting for, or otherwise longing for: replacement polarized lenses, a mirrored baseplate global compass from Suunto, photos from the Eco Xcapade, a Nokia 5140 mobile phone to call my own.
Avtar stands at a right-hand junction, waving us into the final checkpoint. “It’s a 2k run to the finish line, guys.”
And so, we ran the last two kilometers of the SAC in our bike shoes. Words fall short of describing the exquisite agony that emanated from the balls of my feet with each stride I took down the tarmac, with Qi Xiang on the bungee. As the endpoint drew nearer, the pain of each stiff-soled footfall was soon felt only as a continuous throbbing ache that seemed to reach to the very bones of my feet. The white Start / Finish banner finally pulls into view, and at that moment all discomfort seems negligible. It is a sight that promises relief from the heat of competition, cool shade, iced drinks, sumptuous food and swapping congratulations and stories with fellow racers. It is a moment we have been waiting for since we signed up for the race 2 months back.
To finish, just marks the start of another chapter in the adventure racing career of our team. From now on, we will be known as a team that completed the Sabah Adventure Challenge. Not so much a boast as it is a statement of our bond, forged through hardship (some, only some... honest!), sweat (lots), and blood (a little).
Finishers take swigs out of soft drink bottles passed to them on the last few metres before the end. A crate of beer materializes from somewhere aboard the bike transport truck. A couple of guys are smoking cigars. Bright smiles light up tanned, once-haggard faces. Race packs and helmets lie clustered unceremoniously by the roadside. The only things preventing exhausted finishers from sprawling on the verge are the lumps of dog droppings and the occasional larger, moist piles of cattle feces in the grass.
There is something special in undergoing an adventure race of this sort. Racers who, only a few days ago, offered little more than polite nods and quite smiles to each other, now cheered, chatted, high-fived and posed for the obligatory finish line photos like old pals at a reunion party. Looking around, a cold drink in hand, welcoming racers, now my friends, to the end of their tiring but exciting journey, I think to myself: “This is it!”
In a moment, everything is sweet. And yet, we acknowledge the inevitable post-mortem of the race that must follow. Now the hard part begins... preparing for our next race.
The Scene at Day Two's Finish
Now, everyone from our team has dropped off to sleep within half an hour of the conclusion of the race briefing. Out of routine more than out of fervour, I am at the maps once more, copying race instructions, tracing the route for the coming day, measuring distances. I am of two minds. One believes our team can finish on the podium, and to push all out for the third and final day. But the other comes to grip with the palpable reality: We have pushed too hard already, racing to the limits of exhaustion, almost resulting in a life-threatening emergency evacuation. I let my deliberations hang as I too eventually retire for the night.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
It was not over yet!
Exhaustion. Utter and unadulterated, but not complete - yet. There seems to be no other moment where I could have felt lower in spirit during the race. I stop walking, my head leaning against the handlebar of one of the two bikes I am pushing up the hill under a scorching sun. Taking a mouthful of warm, plastic-tasting water from one of the warm bike bottles, I weigh our progress. We are off the map with less than four km to the finish line, as per course instructions. Yet each curve, once cleared, reveals the gravel road inclined mockingly upward, with no end in sight.
“Come on, Qi Xiang!”
Carry on.
The Defining Moment
We were hike-a-biking up a wide gravel road on Bukit Tankoyan, a 276 metre foothill somewhere before CP9, the afternoon heat beating down on us from a clear blue sky. Husband and wife duo Cornwall Extreme had just overtaken us, and Qi Xiang had been reduced to trudging up the rocky slope with the aid of two wooden branches as makeshift trekking poles. I was pushing the two bikes about fifteen metres up ahead when Qi Xiang yelled out: “You go ahead first, push the bikes to the top of the hill!”
Why not, I thought, and checked the altimeter. OK, less than ten minutes more of this confounded pushing, and carried on. Yet, barely five minutes later, I was glancing left and right at the trailside vegetation, desperate for some shade. If I was suffering like a sick dog, and needed to take a swig of our fast-dwindling water supply every minute, then my team mate must have really been feeling it. Bad idea to have left him behind - bad, bad, bad….
The bikes I left on the trailside, and retreated into the shade of a shallow embankment. I pulled out my half-consumed Snickers bar and finished it of, glancing back down the trail as I did. No Qi Xiang climbing up the hill. He must be hiding in the trailside bush somewhere below. I descend the slope to look for him and find him lying in a ditch by the road side, breathing shallowly, complaining of numbness in his extremities and feeling very dizzy. Delirium, a racing pulse, glazed eyeballs. This meant big trouble. Summarily, I had a case of heat exhaustion on my hands.
Eventually, Qi Xiang recovered, aided by Nature’s breeze, and with the help of the support crew from the Johor Parks team, who happened to be nearby. They gave us some water and the lid of one of their plastic gear boxes. This I used to fan Qi Xiang till he had cooled down sufficiently. Upon finally clearing the uphill, my immediate worry was whether he would be able to adequately control his bike on the big downhill that was coming up. He took the lead on it purposefully and with confidence, a clear sign that he had recovered. Nonetheless, the incident shook us, even when I think of it now.
The Terrain was Nuts, Honest!
I queried the China Jump guys as to the nature of their bike disaster. “I had just gotten back on the bike after the abseil when my bike just fell apart. We had a unicycle all the way to the next CP.” Greg Shand candidly recalled.
As to the general trials and tribulations of the first day of the SAC, we were at a loss, at least until our hunger was satisfied, just before the briefing for the second day commenced....
We are sitting – by the light of our headlamps - on plastic stools, together with other teams from Singapore, our transition box the dining table, eating a late dinner cooked by our support crew Kangwei. Maggi mee, instant soup, and an interesting mush consisting of baked beans, corned beef and sardines in ketchup. “Whack us on the mountain on the first day to widen the field, to sort out the Extreme and the Adventure teams.” Someone quips as we waited for the briefing to start. True enough - the 12 Extreme starters at Mesilau have now dwindled to 7 at Tambatuan. Lee Yung Ming of S&M 2 gives a more succinct assessment of the difficulties of the first day: “Siong-alingam”.
For fun...
Yes, i'm back, out of the gutter!
Sabah prides itself as a prime holiday destination for eco-tourists and adventurous souls keen to visit its jungles, offshore islands, and mountains, but still it came as a bit of a surprise to find holidaymakers amongst the adventure racers of the SAC. Greg Hamilton and Clare McLennan thought that a grueling 3-day stage adventure race was as good a way as any to kick start their five-week backpacking holiday of North Borneo. Keen kayakers, hikers, cyclists, and all-round mountain athletes, they had signed up for the Extreme course of the SAC on the spot “just to see how it was like”, calling themselves Kiwi Holiday. In the true spirit of adventure racing and teamwork with no boundaries, other teams lent Greg and Clare first-aid kit spares and other compulsory items, while rented bikes and spare helmets were provided by Avtar’s crew.
Just as incredible was the case of UK married couple Andy Paritt and Ally Martin. We (Team Togoparts.com and support crew) had met them at the Senai Airport departure lounge en route to Kota Kinabalu. Yong Kim eagerly bantered with them, and told them about our upcoming competition in Sabah. On a whim of the moment, they decided to hang around to meet Tazman Lawrie – one of the co-organizers of the SAC - at the Kota Kinabalu airport to find out more about the race. Inevitably, the question was dropped: Would they like to do the SAC? Less than 12 hours later, Taz was sourcing for bikes and other mandatory gear for the intrepid husband and wife, both of whom had apparently completed a mountain marathon just the weekend before, and the New Zealand Ironman the weekend before that. They would now race the SAC as Cornwall Extreme, and like Kiwi Holiday, would rely on borrowed kit and safety equipment lent by other teams and the organizers. “I think we’ll go for Extreme.” Ally had smiled benignly during registration at Mesilau.