I cursed a little when the truck hooter woke us up at 5am this morning, the bitter cold biting at my sense of humour and the fact that I could not move my heavy legs in the night also a little worrying.
I frantically bundled into the start shoot at Paul Cluver still tying my shoe laces and not really thinking about the day ahead, which I think is a good tactic — just shock your body and mind into it instead.
Compared to last year everyone looked relatively strong and the amount of limping was less, perhaps people were just that much more prepared this year having heard rumours of the legendary inaugural Odyssey.
Today was the only the day that was pretty much the same as last year and so I thought I knew what I was in for. As usual I started off strong while Sarah pleaded with me to take it easy. By now I know to listen to her advice and so although it frustrated me to see tons of teams pass us, I knew I needed to leave my competitive spirit back at camp, because day three is a make or break day.
Compared to yesterday the weather was fine and it was soon going to warm up to a sweat. Looking back over the valley while climbing Groenlandberg I relaxed into the day and took in the unfolding landscape, the mist rising above the damn down below and the mountains silhouetted against a river blue sky.
'Pain reverberating in my muscles'
The first climb up the mountain was steady and relatively long — the first water table at 10 kilometres like a watering hole — packs of runners gathering to drink.
Still after that we climbed and then there was some uneven downhill which I didn't know whether to curse or thank — the pain reverberating in my muscles with every tread.
The area is very muddy with all the rain and Sarah and I ran in a pack leading another team and just keeping each other going, the undulating terrain slowly tiring us out.
Mentally this is a team game, and I feel sorry for the teams that are not evenly matched as it's hell of a draining to be chasing your partner all the time, instead like for us it's a game of pull and push, give and take, patience and understanding.
When Sarah feels strong I slot in behind her head down and melt away the kilometres, and when I am feeling strong (usually on the downhill) she slots in behind me, or we run in unison, step by step, little by little.
Sarah's coaxing to take it easy once again was a very good idea as like clockwork I hit the wall at 20 kilometres just before the second water station. When you hit the wall no matter how easy the trail the mental and physical exhaustion takes over, and it's difficult to coax yourself through it. I needed water badly and the last couple of kilometres to the station were killing.
Still not having recovered completely, my belly pumped full of Energade I attempted the beast of a hill that goes on for about five to nine kilometres. Usually I break through the wall but it just wasn't backing down and as Sarah started to become a speck in the distance (or so it felt) and I just could not go any faster.
In the spirit of the race
Just as I was thinking of throwing myself off the edge of the cliff or perhaps just sitting down Captain Kirk or Mark in real life came up behind me and grabbed my hand.
A complete stranger besides some banter on the trail, he just knew I needed a push and pulled me up the steepest part of the hill, reaffirming my admiration for the runners on this race. It got me through the worst.
Humbled but not beaten I carried on and we walked most of the rest of the hill until the long downhill leading us closer to the end. The view from this point is incredible and I could not help feeling a little sentimental. Suddenly a song from that morning started playing in my head, by body was overcome with endorphins and for just a few minutes I felt like I was floating on air — nothing in the world could compare to this feeling of complete elation.
Day three ended on this high as Sarah and I sprinted for the finish line — the last team to make it in under six hours. Another 42 kilometres down, and the beast had conquered again.
