 
Dust, Sweat and Tears
The 63.5 km Great Walk
Story by JEREMY LEETE
Photos by JIM AMOS
Two men
who look to be in their late fifties or early sixties take their place
at the front of the line just moments before the start. I overhear one of them say he
finished in seven hours last year. I am in awe of his fitness level for a man his age. Had
it not been for the age lines, he could easily pass for a man in his twenties.
The horn sounds at four a.m. and we’re off. Over 500 of us begin the rugged
journey between two remote communities on north-central Vancouver Island, a journey that
will put our minds and bodies to the ultimate test. This is The Great Walk - one of North
America’s toughest endurance challenges. As the name suggests, most people choose to
walk the 63.5 kilometres (kms) from Gold River to Tahsis, but a few of us, including
myself, have decided to run the course.
Darkness obscures our path and the loose gravel crunching under our feet makes for
precarious navigation This is prime ankle-turning terrain.
"We’re starting out too fast," says one of the older men and the two
drop back. The pace doesn’t seem to be all that fast, but they are veterans and they
know what’s in store.
Two hundred meters into the trek and we’re heading uphill. The crest of each hill
reveals another and another. For about 10 kms, we climb steadily higher. I wonder if the
ascent will ever end. Unbelievably, I find myself at the front of the pack with two other
runners. I know I’m out of my league when the two begin casually talking about the
various marathons each has run.
"What have you run?" asks one of them.
"Well, this is actually the first one I’ve ever entered," I answer
tentatively.
My response brings a curious look from both as if they know something I don’t. Not
surprisingly, the two begin to pull away from me. I’m running alone now, but my pace
still feels comfortable.
As dawn begins to shed light on the potholed, gravel road, I reach the summit. The
light reveals my path which, mercifully, winds downhill as far as I can see. In the
distance the other two maintain their torrid pace.
Continuing downwards, my thighs start to ache from the endless pounding. A friend pulls
up beside me in his support vehicle and we chat while I run. It
is a welcome distraction from the solitude of running solo. Suddenly, a runner breezes by
me at an incredible pace. I think that he is either in amazing shape or is making a big
mistake. The latter would prove true some 15 kms later.
Day breaks and I am treated to the spectacular mountain scenery as the sun’s heat
evaporates the morning fog. A blanket of snow still coats many of the higher peaks. I am
surrounded by wilderness. My friend pulls over to wait for his wife who is walking the
race. "I’ll see you around the 50-km mark," he yells.
I set my sights on the halfway checkpoint, 34 kms from the start.
With every step, my body aches a little bit more, especially my legs. I am almost
halfway to the finish line. I begin to wonder how I’m going to make it. I only know
that I will - somehow. Instead of thinking how far the finish is away, I praise myself for
how far I’ve come. I set short-term goals like making it to the next checkpoint.
After reaching one goal, I set another. Just ahead, I notice a man walking. It’s the
guy who blew by me earlier. His legs have given out just before the halfway point.
"I’m walking from here on," he says.
My pace has also slowed by this time, but I am still running. Rounding the next corner,
the halfway checkpoint comes in to view. The pain I am feeling is somewhat eased by the
applause from the volunteers at the checkpoint. My spirits and energy rise as I gulp down
the Powerade and water. I also indulge in a ham sandwich to curb my relentless hunger.
 After a brief rest, I’m back on the road. The respite has
done more harm than good. My entire body is one giant ache. Vehicles passing by churn up
the dust on the road causing my eyes to sting and my lungs to labor. A fine film clings to
my skin as the dust bonds with my sweat, which drips in dirty droplets off my chin.
Slowly, I get back up to speed. I am still in the top 10, but I don’t know how
much longer I can keep up the pace. I climb yet another hill and start down the other
side. Without warning, my thigh goes into a violent muscle spasm. I grimace in pain while
I try and massage out golfball-sized knot in my quadricep, all the while trying to keep
running. It works, but only briefly. Minutes later, my other thigh is doing the same. I
can’t keep running. I have to slow to a walk while I work out the spasms.
I hear footsteps from behind. It’s the old guy I saw at the beginning of the race
and he looks completely fresh. I wish him well as he runs by.
As any of the runners will tell you, this event is not about competing against one
another; it’s about challenging yourself. To see someone doing so well at that point
in the contest is inspiring and definitely helps keep me going.
Eventually, I team up with a couple of other guys that are keeping a pace I think I can
handle. Their company keeps my mind off the pain and spasms in my legs. We support one
another, but after a while I have to slow to a walk once again to work out the spasms. I
desperately want to stay with them for the company more than anything, but my legs
won’t let me. I slowly watch them disappear around the next bend. I manage to run
again and the spasms relent for a while. Somehow I catch up to them and they laugh at my
approach.
"Just playin’ possum weren’t you?" says one of them.
I force a smile. "I wish."
I run with them for a few more kilometers until the agonizing spasms return. Again, I
watch them disappear in the distance. All of the sudden I break out in laughter as I run,
but I realize that I’m laughing only to keep from crying. Tears well up in my eyes as
the spasms continue. I question whether or not I’m going to make it. I decide to run
the flat stretches and walk the remainder of the hills.
Several runners have passed me by this time and I’m not sure what place I’m
in. At this point, I don’t care; I just want to finish. A woman runs by in the
opposite direction. She is going to pace her friend who is not far behind me. She, too,
would finish ahead of me. Her determination is evident as she struggles up one of the
hills.
Every so often, two women in a support vehicle for another runner would drive by and
cheer me on. Their encouragement boosts my ragged spirits and energy.
The distance between checkpoints now seems infinite, but they are only about five kms
apart. One by one, I struggle to each checkpoint ever wondering if I will make it to the
next. Finally, I come to the last one and my ultimate goal now seems attainable. There is
just over three kms to go. Somewhere from within, I get a final  burst of energy and I quicken my pace considerably. The pain is now secondary
knowing that I am just a few short minutes from relaxation. 
"Welcome to Tahsis" is printed on the sign at the edge of town, but to me it
reads, "Welcome to heaven."
The last few hundred meters to the finish is lined with well wishers who cheer and bang
away on pots and pans. Then the sirens go off as the fire truck follows me - as it does
all  who complete the walk - to the finish. I am elated. The finish line
is in sight. As I approach I see one of the two runners I had run much of the journey
with. He raises his hands and high-fives me as I cross the finish line - seven hours and
one minute, it's finally over..
I did it.
June 6, 1998 Great Walk Highlights
This year, 644 people registered,
597 started and 486 finished the Great Walk.
|
To top of page