RA125 v2.0 : 6/7 YAMAJO : 08:49:01
text by Paul Lott
The sun arrived like a baker at dawn. Nearly four dozen of Montreal’s best had risen to the occasion. I hung out the car window to test the temperature of the oven. It was almost ready. The first batch was already off to a sizzling start, rotating often to avoid burning out. The wind lied as it cooled my face. I watched the truth radiate from my teammate’s bare head. It looked primed to fry an egg. I cheered as Shadoe kept his promises, both feet moving swiftly over the burning tarmac. His partner Amy pedaled closely behind him, hungry for victory hats and bragging rights. In fact, we were all hungry. I hadn’t eaten anything all morning.
“There is a McDonald’s not far from here,” Joe suggested.
I was not open to his suggestion. He yelled something in Arabic to Pierre who was driving the car in front of us. Traffic ripped past and vehicles honked, clearly unimpressed with our pace. But our pace was perfect, the plan, solid. However, with no other teams in sight and sitting in dead last, a negative voice started to heckle from the back seat. Joe threatened to punch it in the throat. The voice fell silent as Shadoe jumped on the bike and Amy’s feet hit the street, baton in hand. Determination dripped from their every pore. After all, we were the Trash Pandas, not the possums. We weren’t about to roll over and play dead. Our battle had just begun.
Ever since our fellow Yamajo brothers and sisters battled it out at The Speed Project earlier this year, I had envied their experience. I openly dislike road running, but boy, do I love to suffer. Running a relay race across the desert sounded like a great way to make yourself miserable and I wondered when I’d get my chance to hurt. I didn’t have to wait long. Pierre informed me a few months back that he and David had created a Yamajo team for Runaround 125, and my name had been one of six to make the roster. Running a relay race around the island of Montreal is a far cry from traversing the burning sands of Death Valley. But the grit it took to complete the course rubbed us raw and exposed our most animalistic sides as we ran rabid through the streets.
I sipped my tamarind juice as I watched Kanika run, suffering in the morning heat. I struggled with the partially frozen bottle as I drove next to her. The ice that blockaded the mouth of the bottle broke, sending a stream of stickiness down my front. The humidity had convinced Yagil that cruising in the car in between runs was a far cooler idea than riding the bike. He and Kanika made excellent progress during their first leg. They divided a block of eighteen kilometers evenly, biting off three kilometer chunks at a time. Lily and I would follow next, employing the same approach as the rest of our team. Once we had all cycled through our first block, we all agreed that in the heat, running three kilometers at a time was too difficult. We whittled down our numbers to one kilometer sprints, which yielded far better results. Despite gaining substantial ground, we still had yet to see another team, but we could smell them. The stench of fear hung thick in the air.
Under the scrutiny of the mid-day sun, Shadoe and Amy took to the streets for a second time. With claws out and teeth bared, things got vicious. Tearing through kilometers like yesterday’s trash, the duo began to close the gap between us and the next team. A white mini-van, a chariot of angels, began to appear around every turn. A battle of biblical proportions loomed on the horizon. Yagil and Kanika ran mad, eyes burning like fiery coals. It wasn’t long before the white shirts of our adversaries came into view; a symbol of purity, a stain on our day.
Lily and I waited impatiently for our teammates to arrive at the transfer point. The same white van full of smiling faces drove past, their runner following close behind.
“This time, Lily,” I promised. “We’ll get them this time.” She nodded in accord. Suddenly, Joe came roaring around the turn behind us, gears grinding, excitement at an all-time high. “Here he comes,” Joe screamed.
Yagil looked like he was going to explode as he ran towards me. My mouth dropped at his speed. He was running so fast I thought he’d sold his soul to the devil himself, or maybe just robbed a bank. He passed me the baton like stolen contraband and sent me flying. Yagil and Kanika’s inspiring performances lifted my feet and spirit as I ran.
Lily and I quickly fell into a rhythm and the gap continued to shrink. We opted to use the car instead of the bike to give our aching legs a break. Joe rode the bicycle next to us, coaching us the entire way. At any other time, I would have asked him to kindly be quiet, but Joe saved me by keeping my breathing and pace in constant check. Lily put me in perfect position for the final takeover. As I ran past, all I could see was a huge smile stretched across the face of our competition. Words of encouragement crossed the street to greet my disbelieving ears.
“Did she just cheer for me?” I wondered in admiration. “What a champion,” I admitted to Joe. “Sabrina is such an angel!”
The battle out of last place was far from over with more than twenty kilometers still remaining. The Mile End Miles crew forced us to dig deep. They were not going to let us get away without a fight. With both teams firing on all cylinders, we stayed toe to toe until Shadoe and Amy found their way back to the ring. Their fresh legs widened the gap in our favor, but the pursuit did not abate. We were now running five hundred meter sprints, protocol thrown to the wind, the thrill of the chase driving us.
As the end drew near, familiar faces started to appear in cars and along the side of the road. Our fellow raccoon family had come to drag us by our tails across the finish line. All six of us ran the last kilometer together, the Yamajo flag flying proud. We crossed the finish line together and our final time was recorded; one hundred and twenty-five kilometers in eight hours and forty-nine minutes. Not bad for a nursery of trash pandas. The final team crossed the line shortly after to a chorus of cheers and champagne corks popping. The warm afternoon sun cast long shadows across the park as we filled our empty stomachs. The perfect end to an incredible day.
All seven teams showed up and gave unforgettable performances for Runaround 125. The amount of teamwork it took to run the circumference of Montréal island was truly impressive and inspiring. Thank you to everyone who supported and organized the race and to each team for inspiring us to be better than we were yesterday. We will see you all next year to collect our hats!
