Getting to the
Race
I
entered my first boat race in May of 2002, the Texas
Water Marathon. Two days before this 40-mile race
from Cuero to Victoria, I rented a boat from Texas
Water Safari-legend John Bugge. John set me up in
a 17' fiberglass Sawyer canoe. I would also attempt
my first Safari in this boat.
When
I rented my canoe for the 2002 TWS from John Bugge,
I told him that I didn't plan on using it in the Texas
River Marathon-which was only two days away-since
I wouldn't have a chance to paddle in it, and would
not be familiar or comfortable in it. John convinced
me that the best way to get used to it would be to
get in it and paddle for 40 miles.
The
day after I rented the 17' fiberglass Sawyer canoe,
I was able to take it out to Town Lake and try to
get a feel for her. I paddled about 8 miles, and realized
I was in a heap of trouble for the next day. First
of all, I had never used a single blade paddle, which
Bugge recommended I try. My initial attempts to use
it were less than successful. I was not able to replicate
the powerful and efficient stroke I had developed
with my double-blade. Secondly-and most importantly-my
body was not ready for the new sitting posture of
the canoe (as compared to my kayak). After only a
few miles my lower back was aching, and my thighs,
once accustomed to stretching out flat beneath my
decked kayak, were bent at a sharper angle. The aches
in my legs were compounded by having to use a rudder
for the first time.
On
the way to the starting line in Cuero, we got lost.
We had never been there before, and inadvertently,
ended up heading the long/wrong way there. Once we
finally did get to Cuero, it took us at least another
20 minutes to find the right bridge. When we finally
did find it, it was 8:50-only ten minutes to the start.
We raced over to the Entry Table and the judges let
us quickly fill out the Entry Form and gave us our
race packages.
We
unloaded the boat, scrambled to load all of my gear,
and I rushed into my racing clothes. We were running
with the canoe towards the steep bank down to the
put in when we heard the starting horn.
Cuero
to Thomaston Bridge
We
lowered the boat into the water, and I realized I
didn't have my hat or sunglasses…both of which
I would need. So Shannon ran back to the car and about
a minute later was back with my stuff. At 9:08, I
finally put my paddle in the water. I could only see
one other boat ahead of me (Paul Redman, in a solo
sea kayak he had rented only a few days earlier from
Thomas Mendenhall). The other 72 boats were already
around the first bend. I would not see another boat
other than Paul until the finish line.
I
caught up with Paul after about a mile, and we paddled
together for the next 5-6 miles. As it turned out,
Paul and I had a lot in common relating to this race.
About three weeks earlier I had talked with Thomas
about renting the same kayak, but eventually decided
on the Spencer canoe. Paul and I were both paddling
our newly rented boats for what was effectively the
first time. Also, Paul and I seemed to have very comparable-if
not equal-paddling abilities. Unfortunately, we were
in our own ability class, which was considerably lower
than everyone else in the race.
Paul
needed to make some adjustments to his boat, and pulled
off to a sandy bank. I wished him luck, and told him
I'd see him down river. So, I paddled off on my own,
not sure if I was making good progress, how to pace
myself, or how far behind I was.
Shannon
and I agreed that she would meet me at the Thomaston
and Nursery Bridges to refill my water. Not knowing
about drink tubes and bite valves, I was using a half-gallon
jug, which I had to tip up to drink from (which meant
I wasn't paddling when I wanted to drink) and a water
bottle.
The
first 18 miles passed quickly (I thought) and easily
enough. When I reached Thomaston, I asked Shannon
how far the next boat was ahead of me, and she thought
it was only about half an hour. It had taken me exactly
four hours to reach Thomaston, which meant I was only
making 4.5 miles per hour. Paul's team captain, his
wife Laura, was there, and I told her Paul was doing
fine, and shouldn't be far behind me.
Thomaston
Bridge to Nursery
Because
my back and legs were already aching, I made the mistake
of getting out of the boat for a few minutes to stretch.
Thomaston is not a good place to do this, as there
is not an easy way to get on shore, and the water
drops off quickly and is too deep to stand.
I
spent about 15 minutes at this bridge, which was way
too long for this race. Having never tried to get
back into this boat from the water, my first attempt
was a disaster. On my second ungraceful attempt, I
plopped down too fast and hard onto my seat, and suddenly
found myself sitting on the canoe floor. I had broken
the rear crossbar that supported the sliding seat.
As if the boat wasn't already uncomfortable enough,
I would have to paddle the next 22 miles with a broken
seat.
As
I paddled away from Thomaston, Paul had appeared around
the bend several hundred yards upstream. It was good
to see another boat.
I
was very relieved to know that the next bridge was
only 9 miles away. Most boat probably didn't even
stop here, but I knew I would probably need some more
water after the 2 ½ hours it was sure to take
me to paddle there.
I
shoved my drystuff bag beneath my seat to prop it
up some, which seemed to help. However, my back still
ached, and I found myself alternating between sitting
in the seat, and sitting up on the covered dry-storage
box that was built in just behind the seat (the dry-storage
box was about 3-4 inches higher than the seat). When
I sat on the storage box, I would use the single-blade
to try and abuse some new muscles.
I
was not ready for this race in this boat, and it made
me realize that I had a lot of work to do if I really
planned to paddle solo in the Texas Water Safari.
I found myself taking too many breaks from paddling,
taking time to stretch my back by lying flat back
across the storage box. But if nothing else, I'm persistent
and proud. I knew that quitting was not an option.
Nursery
to City Park
At
Nursery, I stopped again for about 10-15 minutes,
and we did briefly discuss quitting (apparently at
least two other boats had already dropped out). The
last nine miles had been pretty difficult, and I was
not thrilled or optimistic about the final 13 miles.
But being too proud to quit, I shoved off from Nursery
Bridge. But my ungraceful attempt to get back into
my boat resulted in several gallons of water in the
bottom of the boat. I paddled about 200 yards downstream,
and pulled over to a gravel bar on river left to empty
the water out of my boat. As I was doing this, I saw
Paul pulling up to the bridge.
Knowing
that Paul was still right behind me is the only thing
that kept me paddling hard. My new goal was to not
come in dead last.
The
final 13 miles were tortuous. I kept glancing over
my shoulder expecting to see Paul come flying past
me at any time. There were a lot of people on the
river fishing, swimming, or playing, and every time
I passed someone, I would ask them when's the last
time they saw a boat go by…most people said that
there were some women paddlers anywhere from 20-45
minutes ahead of me. Most people laughed when I answered
that Yes, I was in the same race as the other boats
they had seen pass through here 3 hours earlier.
The
thing I remember most about the final 13 miles was
the wind. I hit several long stretches of straight
river, where the wind was hitting me head on. I think
I witnessed trees growing faster than I was paddling.
I
passed one last bridge that I wasn't expecting, and
was relieved to see Shannon and Laura waiting there
to cheer us in. Shannon told me that I had about 3
more miles to go. Damn. I was certain I was within
a few hundred yards of the finish line by now.
The
last three miles were actually quite pleasant. My
back and legs were no longer killing me (I think I
had finally beaten them into submission), and the
temperature was falling (yes, I was out there long
enough for the sun to start going down).
I
came around a bend, and thought I could see Shannon's
red shirt about 200 yards downstream standing on a boat
ramp. Another few paddle strokes, and I had done it.
I was finished. I rolled ungracefully out of the boat
and sat in the river for several minutes, completely
exhausted and humbled.
There
were still quite a few people left when I finished:
a special thanks to Linda Cochran, Thomas and Kathryn
Mendenhall, and Laura Redman for their enthusiastic
cheering and clapping.
My
final time was 9 hours and 38 minutes. The two boats
in front of me, the two women soloists that everyone
kept saying were "only 30 minutes ahead"?
Bonnie Jackson finished 1 hour and 29 minutes ahead
of me, and Laura Fatter finished 1 hour and 33 minutes
ahead of me.
My
time was the slowest time since Brian Lisle finished
in the Master class in 11 hours back in 1988. The
winners of the 2002 Texas Water Marathon, (Dave Jensen,
Joe Mynar, Donald Baumbach, Fred Mynar, Kyle Mynar,
and Brian Mynar) finished in less than half my time
(4 hours and 23 minutes). But there were six of them,
you say. How did I compare to the best soloist? The
first soloist to finish was the amazing Erin Magee
who finished in 5 hours and 22 minutes…5 minutes
ahead of Safari-legend John Bugee.
But
what about Paul Redman, you ask? Well, about 15 minutes
after I finished, I saw the Thomas Mendenhall sea
kayak come around the final bend, accompanied by an
aluminum canoe. But Paul wasn't paddling the kayak.
He was in the canoe. Apparently, Paul's father and
brother had paddled up river to make sure he was OK
(after all, it was starting to get dark out). When
they met Paul upstream, he had already made the decision
that he was not going to use the sea kayak for the
Texas Water Safari, thus his final place in the Texas
Water Marathon did not matter. So, he switched boats
for the final leg of the race.
Which
meant he was disqualified. Damn you Paul Redman. Amongst
all boats that completed the 2002 Texas Water Marathon,
I had officially finished last.
