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Adventure Race Training

I have some good stupid stories from when Mike N, Monilee L, Andrew R, and myself all started training for a 24-hour adventure race. The race itself was pretty funny/stupid, but that's a different story.

Gear

I totally didn't buy the hype about gear. It was expensive, I didn't have a lot of cash, and I cut some corners. I didn't need goretex, I didn't need spandex, I used a grubby tshirt. Cheap bike gloves. Used backpack. You get the idea.

I didn't have a good pair of hiking boots, but who needs hiking boots? Not me. I borrowed (read: stole) a pair of my brothers high-top basketball shoes. I suffered a little from the cruel teasing of my teammates, but I didn't care. They all had good boots, but I was hiking in style.

We did a five-hour orienteering session through the woods at a provincial park in Quebec. The shoes almost killed me. The soles flexed, so I felt every rock stabbing my feet. They weren't close to being waterproof, so I had a perminant soaker. They absorbed water and swelled up, then squelched and pretty much made me fully and completely miserable. Mike, Mon, and Andrew loved it. I bought new boots before the next weekend.

Sunburn

Next story was during our training for the paddling section of the race. We had joined a boat club and borrowed a couple of canoes. Mon and I were in one boat, and Andrew and Mike were in the other. We were paddling a round-trip distance of 12km, and it was pretty hot.

Now I'm pretty white, and I burn easy, but it was totally cloudy and muggy. I pull off my shirt and Mon starts up like her name is Mom: "Will, you should put some sunscreen on, you're gonna get burned!". Yeah, whatever Mom, why don't you concentrate on making bigger vorteces behind your paddle?

We paddle for four hours, get back exhausted, and I'm feeling a little stiff. Meh, I'm probably just tired. I head home and realize I'm a little burned. I have dinner through increasing amounts of discomfort, and finally I realize I'm in serious pain. I can't deny it anymore.

It gets to the point where I can't move my arms. I pull my shirt away from my neck and I can see these huge blisters that have formed on my shoulders. I'm a little freaked out, and head to the local hospital.

I wait four hours for a doctor to tell me I have second-degree burns, and that he can't help me. What a fucker! I steal a couple of tubes of Neosporin and gauze on the way out, and spend the next couple of days in the most amazing amount of pain imaginable.

Apparently I tried to cover it all up. I don't remember this, but Mon totally thinks I tried to recover without telling them and deny it ever happened. Hah! I'm not ashamed of my overwhelming stupidity! At least, not now that I've recovered.