A person's true character is only revealed in times of adversity. I don't remember who said that, or where I heard it, but it's a little snippet of wisdom that seems to come rolling out from under the couch periodically, and I'm inclined to believe that it's probably true. So, as a guy who is aware of the strategic importance of knowing oneself well, I feel obligated to periodically subject myself to adversity, just to keep a running check on my character. You know, like regular tune-ups for your car or an annual physical. A quick spot check to verify that I'm not on the decline. If Elvis had done this annually, a lot of trouble could have been avoided.
The trick is, you can't just do the same thing each time. It's not like pulling out the dipstick on your car to verify the level of your oil. Character is tricky - it eludes easy quantification. If you run the same test more than once or twice you'll be used to the adversity, and to overcoming it, so it just won't have the same effect. No, you've got to hit yourself with fresh sources of torment if you really want to get a bead on what sort of person you are. So when the time for the 24 Hours of Adrenalin mountain bike race came around this year, there was a need to take it up a notch, just to keep myself off-balance. In case you're wondering, 24 Hours is an annual mountain bike race that takes place in the Canadian Rockies. It starts at noon on a Saturday and continues until noon the next day. Each five-person team tries to complete as many laps as they can in that time - as soon as one rider comes in, the next one goes out. We did it last year and it was suitably hard, so when the chance to do it again this year came around, Reece and I got to wondering how we could make it worse. We were looking for a way to turn the race into something less of an athletic test and more of a magnifying glass on our souls. A decision was made to just not train for it. No riding. No touching the bikes prior to the race; we would go in ice cold, without having ridden once all year, and see how we made out. Actually, to be perfectly honest, we decided on this course of action when we came to the realization that the race was only a few weeks away and we hadn't actually been out riding yet. And so the decision is made. The wheels are set in motion, the clock begins spinning forward, and next thing you know it's 10 minutes to noon and we're racing around, late, looking for our disgruntled teammates before the race begins. Noon arrives and the first round of riders head out into the woods in a thick cloud of dust. Back at our campsite, spirits are high as we anticipate our first laps. Beers are distributed and we soak up the electrical-current atmosphere in the warm July sun while our captain scowls at us. Riders come and go, returning caked in thick dust, and the clock slowly winds toward my first lap while I pace the campsite, beer in hand. Soon enough, the time is upon me. I'm off into the deep forest and am immediately reminded of how relentless the course is. An unyielding 17 kilometres of vengefully steep climbs, violent downhills, and writhing trails, all covered in a healthy blanket of rocks and tree roots. I'm maneuvering my bike like a man possessed; a man on fire with burning ambition and Olympian ability. In my head, that is. In actuality I'm riding like a man who hasn't been on his bike for a year. The rocks and roots violently pitch me around. The sharp corners hurl me into trees. The looming hills burn my legs like a Saharan sun. And still, I'm having fun. I smile as the bike shakes at the boundaries of my control on contact-lens-drying downhills; I grin as I soar through the air, sans bike, bracing myself for violent impacts; I beam while the sweat pours into my eyes and rain cools my overheated engines. It's good. I shriek down out of the forest and into the finish area, putting on a frantic burst of speed for the finish line crowd who have no idea that I was slow as a tortoise on morphine while I was out in the woods. The baton hands off to Reece and I return to our campsite feeling triumphant. Within ten minutes I discover that my ass is so sore from the bike seat that I can't bare to sit. I'm forced to stand while I eat my dinner. |
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