Saturday, September 14, 12024 Human Era (HE)
This is a continuation of previous posts. For part one and two of “Whey-ah-wichen Whipper Welcome Back,” click here (1) or here (2).
…6-5-4-3-2-1
My watch vibrated shortly after Lone Rock Point. A quick check revealed that I had just passed the 12 kilometre mark. Roughly six kilometres to go…
Five
Buzz. Five kilometres. I was nearly at the north end of the mouth of Deep Cove.
Run Up to North Deep Mouth Cove: RUN-DMC
Near the mouth of the Deep Cove bay, the fast passer caught me again, retaking his lead position. Dejected I ventured on, trying to change my focus to short-term goals, the speed buoy marker and the south shore of the bay, as proximal targets.
Backflash to Borderline Bonking
It was around this same spot in last year’s race that I came as close to bonking as I have ever been. It was nowhere near a true bonk, but it was the first time I felt like I could not increase my effort from a lower submaximal level (a topic that is artfully explored in Alex Hutchinson’s Endure: Mind, Body, and the Curiously Elastic Limits of Human Performance, which covers all the reasons why we endure or fail in physical efforts). Thankfully, this year, I was far from that courtesy of more training and better fitness, but I still did not feel as good as I wanted to. I will chalk that up to not enough event specific training. I seldom paddle over eight kilometres on a regular basis. So, eighteen was a stretch. I was lacking the endurance and fatigue resistance to push hard into a longer window of exertion.
Despite not being near bonking, I was standing in the doorway of the hurt locker. Or at least that was the feeling in the moment. In hindsight, this was a bit over-dramatic, but in the moment, it felt like an apt description, and I mentally recited the mantra of ‘enter the hurt locker’ as a distraction and motivation to persevere.
Four
Before reaching the south shore of Deep Cove, my watch buzzed again. Four kilometres to go. The prospect of the approaching finish line energized me ever so slightly.
Three
Buzz. Three kilometres to go. Grey Rocks Island was just ahead. I kept the island close on my port side, hoping it was the shortest and fastest route. All the while vigilantly scanning the shallow waters for rock hazards, just in case my close pass proved to be too close.
Two
As I broke free to the more open waters on the south side of Grey Rocks Island, I realized that my paddling partner had moved more inland and had gained position. I am not totally sure when or how he made his move. Had he been drafting me for the last few kilometres? I had thought we separated further back around Lone Rock Point, but I was not actively checking and therefore had no way of knowing. Had I slowed down? Had he sped up?
Whatever the case, it did not matter. I needed to speed up now or lose out on another position in the placings. I dug deep to find another gear but struggled to speed up. Maybe my line would prove to be better at the point, I thought? I was further into the arm, whereas he was closer to shore. Perhaps I could catch an eddy current that would boost me ahead to the point near Little Cates Park.
Buzz. Two kilometres to go.
As we paddled on, it turned out that he either had the better line or the faster engine. Maybe even a combination of both? Regardless of the root cause, I was not able to hold pace and found myself losing ground (water?).
Little Cates Park was just in the distance. It was now clear that I could not catch my comrade, and to console my crushed ego, I will conclude that faster water conditions contributed to his crossing to chief contestant. I rounded the small point at Little Cates Park. Roche Point came into view. The end was in sight! I struggled to maintain my pace, let alone find the fervour for a faster finish.
One
Midway across the itty-bitty bight between Little Cates Park and Whey-ah-wichen, my watched buzzed for a final time. One kilometre to go!
I put my head down, digging deep for the deciding drive to the dash’s discontinuation. I was alone as I crossed the finish line, with only myself, the course, and the clock in contention for a private photo finish.
Now, on the other side of the finish line, I was rewarded with a sense of satisfaction. A second Whipper was now in the storybook. The finish was weaker than wanted, but what I really wanted to know was whether I was in the worst place? Last year, I was last, so my personal goal was to not finish last again. Call it the sting of my Marsellus Wallace pride fucking with me. Whatever the case, me and my ego did not want to be last again. And thankfully, I was not… but just. I managed to squeak in ninth out of ten racers in my category. Different than desired, but I was done, and that’s what matters most in the moment.
WaWW Wrap Up
Below is my race route recorded in the Garmin Connect app with a Garmin Forerunner 945, the stats summary, and the course map for comparison.
Board Ding
It wasn’t until post-race that when I was packing my kit that I noticed a ding in my board. There was a chip in the paint along the starboard rail from my unfortunate mishap getting to the starting line. Thankfully, it appeared to be only cosmetic.
Further inspection later revealed that the damage was, in fact, superficial and aesthetic. The paint/casing layer covering the rail hadn’t been pierced but rather scuffed, not affecting the underlying materials (i.e., fibreglass or carbon). I cursed myself yet again for my error in getting to the start line safely, then brushed off the damage and made my way over to the post-race activities. There was no sense in letting the past ruin the future in the case.
Food, Awards, and Prizes
Back at the event site, I picked up my post-race meal, a burrito, chips, and drink. With the bar set last year with a beer in the meal, I was slightly disappointed that the post-race potable was non-alcoholic this year. Who doesn’t enjoy a ‘pint’ as part of the post-paddle party provisions. Though the burrito and beverage still hit the spot nicely.
Next, the awards were meted out to the craft categories containing three or more contestants.
The Sun finally decided to make its full appearance near the end of the award ceremony as the prizes transitioned to draw prizes. I started to regret my decision of changing into a jacket and rain pants for the post-paddle party. However, synchronicity seemed to be on my side. With the rising temperature, just as I was joking that a beer would be great to cool off (somehow removing my raingear was a remissed revelation), I luckily won one of the draw prizes. It was a four-pack of tallboys, two pint glasses, and a gift card from Bridge Brewing Co. The beers were offered up to my post-paddle pals as a gift to the sea gods for answering my prayer.
The suite of sponsors and the swag they submit are truly superb for the event.
Results, Regret, and Reflections
As mentioned, I managed to meet my goal of not being last. Just. On a more relevant egotistical front, another goal was to improve on my performance from last year. Not just in standing but in speed. In many races, speed is an easy metric to quantify. Did you go faster? Was your time shorter? With paddle sports however, measuring speed or relying on finishing time is a bit more complicated, as the added variability of water (tides and currents) and wind conditions are confounding (side note – for an excellent account on the topic as well as all other things to with interpreting water, check out Tristan Gooley’s How To Read Water: Clues, Signs & Patterns from Puddles to the Sea).
My finish time for this years Whipper was almost 10 minutes faster than last years. But was I really faster? Or was it the course conditions? This years Whipper’s overcast conditions meant there was much less wind compared to the 12023 HE race, which was a late sunny summer day with thermal southerly winds through the fjord. On top of that were the tides. In 12023, the 1100 hour start time coincided with the near maximum rate of an ebbing tide, reaching the low at 1345 hours. That meant the majority of the race was run on an ebbing tide, and current in the confines of the corridor, although the latter portion was approaching slack tide (and current as per the ‘rule of thirds‘). Whereas this years Whipper started just after low tide and would take place during the flood.
The conflicting currents made a direct time comparison questionable. To compensate, I decided to do a quick comparison of the times for other competitors that raced both years. Roughly speaking, the top males shaved four minutes off of their times, with the middle cohort shaving six minutes off. This left me feeling chuffed about my 10 minute improvement. Though top marks go to the fastest female who shaved a phenomenal 16 minutes off of her time! In percentage terms year-over-year, the top two males were 4% faster, the middle two were 5%, I improved 7%, and the top female improved 12%.
How much of my improvement was training versus blood chemistry is open to debate.
Regret
One regret that I had for the whole event was that I missed my eldest son’s first official foot football (as opposed to hand football) match. I reconciled this regret knowing that there would be more matches to spectate in the future.
Reflections
The Whey-ah-wichen Whipper marks the end of the SUP race season as the culmination of the big three events in Vancouver (Board the Fjord, the Vancouver SUP Challenge, and the Whipper). All-in-all, I was happy with the improvements that I made in fitness and performance as a result of exercising/training. But at the same time, I still want to make more improvements. I will continue to paddle year round with a slight reduction in days on the water, mostly due to the lack of light, but will supplement my conditioning with running, rowing, cycling, and a sprinkle of skipping and resistance training. And hopefully, somewhere between now and next season, I’ll get a touring trip in, too…
I SUP Explore 
