For many posts on this blog, I've rambled on and on about marathons, triathlons, the MS150, IMTX and Bikram yoga. These athletic endeavors are very mainstream and familiar. I'm not dissing their difficulty by labeling them this way; I'm just saying that these goals are popular and a typical choice people make when they decide they want to take on a physical challenge.
My dad's choice of challenge is not mainstream. I think most people, me included--until now, are quite unfamiliar with the sport he loves. My dad canoes. And I don't mean "Oh-let's-glide-down-the-river-for-a couple-of-hours-and-enjoy-the-pretty-scenery" type of canoeing. I mean the Texas Water Safari, a race most (or those in the know) consider to be the most difficult canoe race in the world, and honestly, one of the toughest races period. It's 260 miles, from San Marcos to Sea Drift, TX--with numerous, tiring portages--and you have to finish in under 100 hours or you're disqualified. My dad has participated in this craziness twelve times.
It goes on to discuss the dangers of the river. One year, my dad's partner broke his leg after he fell into the water (possibly from falling asleep while paddling). He hung onto the canoe, drifting and waiting for a gravel bar along the shore so he could climb back in, and while drifting, he hit a rock or something, cracking his tibia.
Then it warns about animals--snake bites, alligators, wasps, fire ants, stingrays (that participants have stepped on at the end when you get to the bay), etc... My dad told me about a freak accident where an alligator gar jumped out of the water, hitting a woman square in the chest, breaking her ribs. But the animal story I will forever love: One time, my dad was trying to get a couple of hours of sleep, but there was a noisy bullfrog nearby. Somehow he was able to locate the frog. He picked it up and threw it as far as he could.
Here's how the entry form concludes:
There is danger in all outdoor sports, but there are wonderful benefits to be gained. There is a fine line between “gutting it out” and pushing on in the face of pain on the one hand, and failing to recognize the danger signs on the other. This race is not for everyone, the best you can do (what we have all done in the past) is talk to other racers, enter races of shorter duration and gain experience... There is no disgrace in pulling over to rest for awhile. Some of the top finishers have done so and some of the best racers in Safari history have been forced to drop out. But, when you finish, you will find, as former recorder-holder John Bugge has repeatedly said, that you are a different person....for life...
The Water Safari is NOT the race I recently did with my dad. I participated with him in the Colorado River 100--a 100-mile event. While this race is definitely difficult, it's nowhere near the Water Safari, which takes place on the San Marcos and Guadalupe rivers. First of all, there are no dams and portages in the Colorado 100--a huge difference. My puny arms and damaged back could never handle portages. And second of all, obviously, the CR100 is a 160 miles shorter than the Safari! During our three practice runs to prepare, I quickly learned that my weak mind could never take on the Safari's mental challenge of being constricted in the canoe and on the river for so long. We finished the CR100 in 24:39:32--and during our race, I really relied on my iPod. I've mentioned on this blog about how much I loved my iPod when I was a runner, but I needed my iPod on the river; I would have been in serious trouble without it. (And I actually brought two iPods, knowing the charge would run out on me with the first one.) And this was just for a 100-mile race, not 260 miles! My dad's best Safari time is 70-something hours. These rivers, the Colorado included, are not white water. I often felt like I was paddling in a winding lake. So to paddle for 24 hours multiplied by 3? So hard to wrap my brain around that.
If the Texas Water Safari were to be compared to a marathon, then the Colorado River 100 would be a 10-miler: a 10-miler that I'm so glad and grateful I got to experience with my dad. He and my stepmother Janet, our team captain, pretty much handed this accomplishment to me. They did all of the organizing, supplying and stressing. All I did was show up and try my best not to be pathetic.
This writing here is from the entry form for the Texas Water Safari:
The Texas Water Safari is a long, grueling
race that is extremely demanding, both physically and mentally. Entrants are encouraged to consult a physician to ensure that they are in good health and can withstand the rigors that participation entails. The physical demands of the race, combined with sleep deprivation, heat, dehydration and exhaustion, often cause participants to become disoriented. Amnesia, hallucinations and other debilitating conditions are not uncommon. Such effect can impair judgment, a condition especially dangerous for a solo paddler. (My dad has finished the Safari twice solo!)
race that is extremely demanding, both physically and mentally. Entrants are encouraged to consult a physician to ensure that they are in good health and can withstand the rigors that participation entails. The physical demands of the race, combined with sleep deprivation, heat, dehydration and exhaustion, often cause participants to become disoriented. Amnesia, hallucinations and other debilitating conditions are not uncommon. Such effect can impair judgment, a condition especially dangerous for a solo paddler. (My dad has finished the Safari twice solo!)
It goes on to discuss the dangers of the river. One year, my dad's partner broke his leg after he fell into the water (possibly from falling asleep while paddling). He hung onto the canoe, drifting and waiting for a gravel bar along the shore so he could climb back in, and while drifting, he hit a rock or something, cracking his tibia.
The writing then goes on to warn about the disorientation of heat exhaustion and danger of heat stroke. One year, my dad told me about a guy who got out of his canoe, removed all of his clothes and wandered off. Police searched for and detained the naked man in a nearby neighborhood.
Then it warns about animals--snake bites, alligators, wasps, fire ants, stingrays (that participants have stepped on at the end when you get to the bay), etc... My dad told me about a freak accident where an alligator gar jumped out of the water, hitting a woman square in the chest, breaking her ribs. But the animal story I will forever love: One time, my dad was trying to get a couple of hours of sleep, but there was a noisy bullfrog nearby. Somehow he was able to locate the frog. He picked it up and threw it as far as he could.Here's how the entry form concludes:
There is danger in all outdoor sports, but there are wonderful benefits to be gained. There is a fine line between “gutting it out” and pushing on in the face of pain on the one hand, and failing to recognize the danger signs on the other. This race is not for everyone, the best you can do (what we have all done in the past) is talk to other racers, enter races of shorter duration and gain experience... There is no disgrace in pulling over to rest for awhile. Some of the top finishers have done so and some of the best racers in Safari history have been forced to drop out. But, when you finish, you will find, as former recorder-holder John Bugge has repeatedly said, that you are a different person....for life...
The Water Safari is NOT the race I recently did with my dad. I participated with him in the Colorado River 100--a 100-mile event. While this race is definitely difficult, it's nowhere near the Water Safari, which takes place on the San Marcos and Guadalupe rivers. First of all, there are no dams and portages in the Colorado 100--a huge difference. My puny arms and damaged back could never handle portages. And second of all, obviously, the CR100 is a 160 miles shorter than the Safari! During our three practice runs to prepare, I quickly learned that my weak mind could never take on the Safari's mental challenge of being constricted in the canoe and on the river for so long. We finished the CR100 in 24:39:32--and during our race, I really relied on my iPod. I've mentioned on this blog about how much I loved my iPod when I was a runner, but I needed my iPod on the river; I would have been in serious trouble without it. (And I actually brought two iPods, knowing the charge would run out on me with the first one.) And this was just for a 100-mile race, not 260 miles! My dad's best Safari time is 70-something hours. These rivers, the Colorado included, are not white water. I often felt like I was paddling in a winding lake. So to paddle for 24 hours multiplied by 3? So hard to wrap my brain around that.
So again: twelve times my dad has shown up at the starting line of the Texas Water Safari, with five finishes--twice alone (amaaaazing) and three other times with a partner or a three-man boat. My brother Steven finished with him one of those successful years. The other attempts that fell short were due to damaged canoes, damaged partners and not meeting time cutoffs. And also, very important to point out: many years the Safari has terrible, low-water conditions. Basically, anybody that crosses the finish line of the Safari must feel like the ultimate badass (once they've recovered from their hallucinations and exhaustion). Now that I've done some paddling myself and experienced a canoe race firsthand, I'm even more impressed, blown away, and confused by those that complete such a grueling race and return to do it again and again. So amazing...and insane. :)
If the Texas Water Safari were to be compared to a marathon, then the Colorado River 100 would be a 10-miler: a 10-miler that I'm so glad and grateful I got to experience with my dad. He and my stepmother Janet, our team captain, pretty much handed this accomplishment to me. They did all of the organizing, supplying and stressing. All I did was show up and try my best not to be pathetic.
We did it, Dad! I love you.
Pictures: My dad surprised me the evening before the race with the names "Ironman" and "Dad" on our canoe. I was laughing and thought it was great. The label of "Dad" was rather humble, though, right? More like, "Daughter" and "Ironcanoer" or "Ironpaddler."
Pictures: My dad surprised me the evening before the race with the names "Ironman" and "Dad" on our canoe. I was laughing and thought it was great. The label of "Dad" was rather humble, though, right? More like, "Daughter" and "Ironcanoer" or "Ironpaddler."
