Saturday, April 23, 2005
Once more, I scan ahead for any sign of CP8. We are not disappointed, for there
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.
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.
