HBC 10K Race Victoria 2008 Wheelchair: and the winner is....

Okay, here is the HBC July 1st 10K from start to finish.

Things took longer than expected last night (too many trips to the bathroom, also staying up to blog) and I got less sleep than I wanted. Then we were a LITTLE late leaving. Since we had been told the start for wheelchairs was 10 minutes in advance, being a little late meant me having a LITTLE panic. We parked further away than expected. We arrived a little later than expected. I am almost shrieking, “Where is my chip! Where is my bib!” (it wasn’t my finest moment!) Probably I didn't look that bad, that is just how I felt inside.

Linda and Cheryl got me into the wheelchair and got the clip for the camelback drink attached to my top. And my timing chip on. Then a woman approached me, “Did you write a blog about wheeling in the Times Colonist 10K?”

I cringed slightly, “Yes?” (was this to be my first getting spat upon with, “That was my husband you talked about!”?)

She said, “I read that and I REALLY hope thing go better with you today, they seemed really clueless, didn’t they?”

I said, “Yes, but I think this race is a lot better!” And we did the ‘See you out there!” and I had my first random stranger ‘blog’ fame. The whole, “Aren’t you that….?” Wow!

Another guy approached and said, “Oh, great to see you in this one too, what about your other chair?” I told him I was going to try this one in a racing chair.

“Moving up in the world!” he said

I told him I would see later, after I finished. The race officials took me to the front and I had 90 seconds until 10 minutes to the official start (when we had been told the Wheelchairs would start). I didn’t have the MP3 player yet. Then one official said the start was one minute before the runners (since it is 1.5 km almost all uphill I was like, “Oh no!”), then they said they would start me three minutes ahead. Anyway, then the female said, “We have a Wheelchair racer today and HE is getting ready to start!” And some other sentence using the word inspirational.

Cheryl who was holding the chair (remember, no brakes, and I am on a hill) said, “HE? Where’s the he?”

It turned out I was the ONLY wheelchair racer there. The day before the event sponsors had told us the event had not been advertised as well as they hoped but I was really surprised because the top three finishers BY GENDER in wheelchairs got money, which means if I finished, I got $100 to spend at Hudson’s Bay Company. Sweet! Plus, this race had TWO wheelchair accessible portapotties, right next to everyone elses! So a good race for wheelchairs....if any other came?

I had on my heat neckband, but the temperature was 8 degrees C. less than projected with a slight breeze as well.

That reality took a lot of the “I am going to have a siezure ON the course” anxiety away. The head of Hudson Bay Victoria or some bigwig came and did a photo op with me and then some News Cameras got set up. Here I am ready to take off (by this time someone had told the announcer that guys don't have boobs and she was saying, “She’s ready to go!”). Notice the guy in black checking his equipment behind me. What? Was he worried he accidentally locked his testicles in the car? I said to Linda and Cheryl after seeing the pic that next race I am going to make a big thing of cupping each breast and adjusting it and going, “Yup, yup.” Anyway, the whistle blew and I was off. Well, this doesn’t go fast when you are on an uphill and you have to punch a lot of times to accelerate: basic physics. A couple camera crews followed me which Linda filmed as well (I may have been on the local news, who knows, I don’t have a TV!). But I was going.

I had a police escort and made the turn and he introduced himself (Lou) and I introduced myself and we talked over where I would go when the runners came. And he said he would stay with me behind to stop people bumping me for the first several km, so that was cool. Anyway, after climbing this horrific hill, there is a downhill.

Ahead of me there was an HBC official who was supposed to be the front, but coming down that hill I was cruising (I was doing 8 mph on the slight uphill according to the police officer), and screamed “CLEAR!” as I was about to wipe out this bike. Guy on the bike looked around and started pedalling like his life depended on it (well, how much scarring on his FACE depending on it), and then pulled off as I passed him and made the turn up starting the NEXT big long uphill.

Anyway, but this time I had found out that putting the clip with your gatorade on the zipper for your venting mesh is a good way to flash tits every time you lean forward to push and pull back (the weight of the suck/straw and fluid pulled it down). And then, at 1.2 Km, my MP3 earphone fell out, got wrapped in my spokes and ripped itself out of the MP3 player (we forgot the arm band for the MP3 player). So I came to a DEAD stop, unwound the earphones, told Lou the police officer on the motorcycle, “And thus ends the musical accompaniment to today’s performance!” and then started from scratch, pushing and pushing and continued on. Now the runners had caught us.

They were very encouraging, which is good as getting up at 8:00 on Canada Day, your day off, not a lot of spectators. So they said good job and I said, see you on the downhill (which I guess sounds a wee competitive). They were taking the closest running line so I had to take the long line, which on this corner meant taking the far outside on the slight downhill while they run the inside See me in red passing on the outside?

Well, then it was mostly flat and downhill but with Quad gloves, I can’t out race a fast runner (finishing in 30 minutes) in my wheelchair, I mean a Para, rated a T4, would be pressed to do that time, or 35 minutes. James (BC athletics coach) told me that I should try for an hour. I was trying for: finishing. I am temporarily classified as a T2 (incomplete quad: based on my nerve function and autonomic function). So when these guys caught up to me, I was doing good keeping up, most were getting ahead. Then the downhill came, and I had to do a bit of braking and a bit of sliding between parked cars and the runners who were keeping to the middle of the road while yelling, “On the left!” (actually, I always yelled that only sometimes then yelled right after, “On the OTHER left!” when it was right). Coming down the hill, I am still up with the “Elites” so mostly male runners who will finish in the 40 minute plus time.
So I was cruising down the bottom of the hill near the cemetery when…my MP3 player fell out. I looked back but this chair has no reverse. So on I go. I got to the turn around point which for runners is just turning around and for wheelchairs is STOPPING, and then hopping on your back wheels until you face the right way. A woman had picked up my MP3 player (Lou, the police man was gone by now, up at the front runners – I have to wonder if he knew of me from that night I came in with the hacksaw to the police station to be arrested, that story kind of…got around, particularly when I asked the police to send an officer with me because I couldn’t reach the rock I wanted to throw at the Ministry of Health and THEN they could arrest me for vandalism!). The runner woman gave the MP3 player to the volunteer who finding nowhere to clip it…..opened my jogging bottoms and put in my panties. Er. Oh well, I guess that extra bass I bought in the MP3 player will come in handy?

At this point Linda finally appeared, she was at Mile Zero and racing on her bike had just managed to catch up to me. If I hadn't dropped the MP3 player I would have kept going. Races are like that, you just keep going to keep up with everyone. Linda took the MP3 player out (spoilsport!) and opened up the special rig under my chair and put me on oxygen (stayed on it the rest of the race). And then away I went. Linda rode off to get ahead of me to the finish line. She was the “Everywhere girl”

By the time I hit the big hill, many of the people I passed had passed me and we called out encouragement to each other. I had some problems breathing but when I hit the water station I asked the woman to throw the water on me. She threw a stream of water from a cup right in my eye, almost knocking out my contact. But it splattered on the front. Next station, I asked one to pour it down my back. Okay, now I have artificial sweat. This is me at the top of BIG hill. From here on, I would be with the same grouping, the guy next to me I would pass three or four times and he passes me three or four times depending on the uphills and downhills.

I cranked up to Mile Zero (the high point of the hill– Mile Zero is where the Transcanada highway starts counting from, hence, Mile Zero) and started the downhill. Luckily so many people had spread out that my worry of leaving bloody shins or splats on the ground as I raced downhill did not come to pass (AWW!). There was a group of 10 of us or so that all went together, and encouraged each other. “I’m going to overtake you!” I would threaten, and it sort of kept us going. I would pass them, they would strive to pass me.

Then I hit this hill. It was short but deceptively steep, so steep I actually came to a stop, and had to do the “one push at a time” to get over it. That was at 8km. Then a little further on a volunteer said, "only one more km more." And I was in mongo pain (Like, get out of the racing chair and lie down on the grass level of pain) but I thought, 'come one, that is like 6 minutes or so, you can do that.' And there was a woman with grey hair who was pacing with me saying, “We can do it under an hour now, we have 12 minutes! No problem.” And I said, “Thank goodness.” And THEN we passed the 9 km Official Flag. I was NOT amused.

So now I had to start the last kilometer AGAIN. And that is when the woman said, “Oh wait, the wheelchairs started early, you have to finish in five minutes if you want to beat an hour!” I was too busy thinking “Oh shit!” to have a “Oh for Pete’s sake!” moment. I told her thanks and dug in and started really pounding those rims. So I get to the curve and, ARG, have to finish this race by going up this steep hill.

Of course the announcer is making a thing about how here comes the wheelchair racer and how inspirational

only I am trying as hard as I can (seriously, tired, in pain and this freaking UPHILL!), I mean I am starting to cry it hurts so bad to get up this damn half block. And I am going slow enough to be passed by 11 year olds (none near by but you know what I mean). The big wig puts out the finish banner for me to break, and then drops it before I get there (didn’t want me to break it?). Whatever. I was over. Now you see the clock read 54:20, and I left 3-5 minutes earlier. But the official result is now logged as.. 59:45 (so gained 20 seconds somewhere). So I squeaked in under 1 hour, just. But still almost 10 minutes faster than my TC 10K, in my day chair, so I guess since I am weaker now, this chair really does make a difference, as in makes it possible to DO this 10K.

After the race my chip was clipped off by this cute kid who Linda said was going, “Come here, I’ll do it”, so he tried and tried with his pliers and after four or five attempts he took the clip off my shoe. And then he dumped it proudly in the box. The woman with grey hair came up after a few minutes and said to me that I “Really gave her the boost she needed" and thanked me and I thanked her as if it hadn’t been for her I wouldn’t have known about the five minutes and finished in 1:00:22 which looks a LOT longer than 59:40 for some reason.

Anyway, after this I started getting funny droopy face (of which there are pictures but you can just imagine for this once, okay?) and Linda used the misting spray to mist me but I soon passed out and the first aid responder started to pinch me. I think he pinched in between the thumb and the index finger, and he did it A LOT since I have a giant bruise on both sides of that hand (I didn’t say anything to Cheryl when she was here cause I knew she/you would be pissed at him!). And kept the first aid guy kept saying “Does not respond to pain!” Whatever that means. And then pushed my forehead, and then pinched my upper lip between his thumb and forefinger, which got me to open my one eye for about a second before I passed out again. So yeah, I guess I wasn’t responding to pain (what was next, stab me?). Though Cheryl DID tell him I had Reynauds and loss of nerves and maybe he shouldn’t go pressing so hard in areas that are vascular compromised and may not have full nerve function.

Also, at no point did he ever look at my med-alert bracelet. Which irked me when I came to consciousness and kept trying to point to it (an action which he said was me, “in shock” and that I “needed to be covered in blankets!” – again, READ THE BRACLET! Like HEAT INTOLERANT!). He kept taking out the two EMT cold break packs Cheryl and Linda had put in my bra and back and as he moved away they kept putting them back in so I guess it was sort of like Marx Brothers does EMT while I was passed out.

This first aid tent gets a PLUS for NOT putting me next to the heater, or having a heater on a hot day. But a BIG minus for not actually having any cots. But rather two tables. And the EMT first responder wanted Cheryl (who can’t lift more than 10 lbs with her funky back) and Linda to lift me up to a table that was over three feet off the ground. Also he HAD no blankets, or break packs or cold packs, or anything! So while compared to the responders of the TC 10K he was marginally better (but he didn’t read the med-alert, tried to “warm me up” and remove all cold packs, and left me with bruises). Since he didn’t do something like almost kill me (or almost sprinkle ammonium Nitrate on me) but the TC 10K tent was WAY better, in that they had cots and supplies and wraps and stuff. So I give this First Aid Tent a D-, on the basis that there was no way for someone ill or having heat stroke to lie down since there was no staff to lift them on the….wooden tables?

Nor did it have pillows or ways to elevate legs or anything except two tables and a tent. While the TC 10K first aid tent I give a C or C+ because they had cots and people and a basic triage system and supervisors, sort of.

I have this idea that I should do a survey of first aid tents of all the 10K and 7K and 5K races this year since so far for me racing is: finish race, stay alert for one to four minutes, then pass out, then get taken to first aid tent, then wake up in time to find out that first aider has almost killed me (HENCE BUYING THE MED-ALERT BRACLET!). So at the end of this year, 2008, I could have a website “Rate your First Aid/Aide Race Tent!” And it would have all my experiences and ratings. Linda had some words about this idea (which would involve me doing at least 7-8 more 10K's this year), these were not positive words that I would want to put on here lest children and sensitive animals become traumatized.

So I was the winner of the wheelchair race. I was also the last wheelchair to come in. I think I will tell people the first sentence.

At home I was burning up. I mean Linda and Cheryl put me in a room with an air conditioner turned low in my tank top and then would come visit me in shirts and sweaters and wrapped in a blanket (I am not kidding). I was burning up that badly. And when I lay down, it took an hour and 6 pills including two tramadol pills, and two extra strength muscle relaxants to get me 90 minutes sleep. Which does not bode well for tonight. But I am alive. I had a few tiny petite mal seizures but nothing like the last few days.

Unfortunately the right side of my body seems to be de-compensating badly. As in, even at 3 liters a second of oxygen, at home, at rest, drinking gatorade, three fingers turned purple along with the right side of my hand and part of my arm. Which when you are ON oxygen (which is the solution to the problem), is kind of worrying. I tried not to look while I used my energy to write and get post cards ready to send. Cheryl helped me and we made many a postcard! But at nap time my pinky finger from tip to base on my right hand was, er, purple/black.

Now, after my nap, I am on oxygen again. But you know, my whole new "lifestyle" (is chronic disablity/illness a "lifestyle choice"?): you play, you pay! I got some lucky breaks today, like the weather. And some great support like Cheryl (who took time off work to be here) and Linda riding to put me on oxygen during the race. So I was able to have a good race, and yes passed out, and yes, got heat exhaustion, and some other things at least it wasn’t the worst case or even close to it. And I knew Cheryl was there if the worst happened, and we were both glad it didn’t, or the next couple “almost worst case” scenarios.

So I am going to rest, if my body will let me. I don’t know. Major pain, and major muscle spasms. I am drinking and hydrating. I got 16 post cards done and did a 10K, won $100, got first place, and that was my Canada day. Oh and now I am going to go take some pain pills and whimper while I watch some TV.

Thanks for all your support, and to the qustion: "would I do another 10K?", today I say, “Why not!”

But ask me or Linda in the morning after a night of moaning and me going “Why? Oh the pain? Why?” (Linda wisely does not answer that question). I will probably do a couple 7K or 5K but it is kind of weird, now I am the winner of the female wheelchair 10K in Victoria in 2008 for both the TC 10K and the HBC 10K. All thanks to my new favorite word: DEFAULT! (well, I did have to finish and not quit no matter how much it hurt!)