2020 Guangzhou Marathon

I was hoping for my 80th open marathon to be special. But as 2020 reared its ugly head, opportunities fell off the table. As December neared, I was about to find out if I could, in all actuality, run a marathon off the couch. 

GZ marathon is done by lottery (for a look at the registration form, check this out). It was always my intention to run it, but as COVID wore on, I was stuck in the US, barely running, as we worked from 6pm-midnight or 1am, then got up to work 7am-noon or 1pm all fall. My runs, when it wasn't raining, windy, and freezing (my winter clothes are in India still), were short and lackluster. When the lottery opened, I passed, saying maybe next time. But that sense of adventure was grumbling and if 2020 has taught us anything, it is to take an experience when we can get it. I entered, was accepted, and realized I had 1 month to get ready.

However, smack in the middle of this 1 month period was a move to China. We spent the first week running all over the state for COVID tests, documents, permissions, packing, and closing the house. I barely jogged. Then we flew 2 days to get to China and were placed in a hotel for quarantine for 15 days, unable to leave the room. I made the most of it, jogging in place. FOr 15 straight days I "ran" nowhere, bouncing around the few feet allotted to me, barely getting the heart rate up. I worked up from 30 min to 1 hour, most days at 60 min, using none of the muscles I needed for distance running. To make it more challenging, we ate only delivery food for every meal, and cigarette smoke from other rooms blew into ours most of the day. The 20 min core-floor routine I set out to do left me staring, my nose inches from piles of many long, black hairs (and quite a few short ones). It was a disgusting trial and after more than 2 weeks, we had fresh air and sunshine again. The race was 6 days away.

The first three days of freedom were hectic with all kinds of clearances and registrations mixed up with shopping to set up the house. Going from 23 hours a day of laying down to 12 hours of walking and standing shocked my body. I got out for two runs along the river in my new hood, but the 4-mile jaunts left me destroyed! Shin splints ripped my legs up like a newbie 6th grader, and my quads ached. I took the next day off and slugged Ibuprofin like candy and iced with frozen hot dogs. On Friday morning, I got back out there for a 2-mile jog. I averaged about 9 min/mile. Yep. This was going to suck. That night was the school's Christmas party and to add insult to injury, I was in a 1-month no booze commitment. Mind you, this had nothing to do with the race I was about to foul up; rather, just a reset after many, many months of life in the US on a lake during COVID. With the stress of trying to get out of the country, packing, traveling, quarantine, and all the celebrations of the holiday season (and newly arrived in China), it was a real testament to mind control to put in this month.  I would need that mental fortitude on Sunday. 

 

Daily registrations online declaring my temp and exposure to the disease were required daily for the two weeks prior. A negative COVID test was also needed a few days out. We had to register for a time slot to pick up the packet and bib. There were temp checks, the COVID test results, and an app that had to be completed prior. 

With three days of running (10 miles total) in the last 25 days, pain was in my future. I took the metro to the start, along with 20,000 of my newest friends. The race was highly organized and easy to navigate once on the ground (not so with the online presence). Small, red dots lined the corrals keeping people 1m apart. While this was not adhered to, there was far less scrunching and shoving than I would have expected, though I was in the B corral. We had 70 degrees and 86% humidity at the start, and it promised to be a warm one. My regimen of anti-inflammatory drugs would probably raise concerns with WADA, but it got me to the start line without the injury I had earlier in the week. The gun went off and I felt like I was in a 5K. There were too many people so it wasn't fast, but I went out in 8:21, and people blew by me like I was standing still. I had no choice; after almost 3 weeks of doing no running, I had to start smart. I ran an 8:06 and a 7:58 the next two miles, then put the breaks on. At 5k, people were still passing me by the hundreds. I have run enough races to know they wouldn't last. The only pandemic facing this group of runners was a sickness of wearing VaporFly shoes to run a 4+ hour marathon!

I was locked in pretty good to 8 min/mile pace for a long time. By 10 miles, I was right on, and my watch had me spot on 1:45:00 at halfway (the course took a jump around 11 miles and my watch and the "official" markers were no longer in sync - They had me at about 1:46 and change). The crowds were plentiful as the race ran mostly along the river. From 14-18 miles it got a little drab as we got away from the water on an out section. I kept it chill, never pushing, though the pace started to come into the high 7:40s on its own. I was ecstatic with how the run was going. I thought 4 hours might be a real possibility earlier in the week but now, with 10 miles to go, I was on track for 3:30. I couldn't have asked for more as a light drizzle washed over us. 

Everything was good until 21. I slipped to an 8:12 with a water stop, and the reality that I was completely unprepared started to sink in. Somehow I brought it back under 8 for the 22nd mile, though that was the longest one of the day it felt like.  The last 5K were.....a negotiation. I had no ego, no pride. There was no time I needed to hit and no one around me I felt compelled to beat. I was just glad to be out here, to be able to race during a pandemic, and to be able to run a marathon, let alone my 80th, on essential no training. I slipped off the pace but by seconds, not minutes. I refused to give in and walk. I would run till the end, no slower, and yet I didn't need to bury myself to get there. I stayed in control and maybe gave up a spot here and there to a charging young man, but for the most part, I continued to pass many people who had gone out so hard. 

The final Ks were quiet as no fans were permitted in the stadium for the finish. I passed 26.2 miles on my watch in 3:29:58, and that was good enough for me. Nearly 500m later, the finish line arrived, and my time was 3:32:15. I am not going to be a Garmin bitch but I had the course 0.3 mi long and on this day, that mattered! Either way you slice it. - watch or course - I ran a deadpan even split 1st half to 2nd. It was, perhaps, one of my finest executions of the 80 jaunts so far. But before I could relish in the accomplishment, I went through some pretty rough post-race moments. The legs were done, the bowles in cramping, and I got dizzy if I stopped. It was a long and painful limp from the line to the exit, then a 1km walk to the restaurant where I toweled off in the bathroom before destroying some enchiladas.  I waddled on down to Bravo Brewing and enjoyed my 1st (and 2nd and 3rd) beer in a month!  

To say I did this "off the couch" would be hyperbole. I did do some running in the weeks before travel. I did bounce around during quarantine, and I didn't fit in 3 jogs the week of the race. But to do a marathon off of it, at 40 years old, let alone in 3:30? I am stoked.  By 8K I had run more than I had run in nearly 4 weeks, by the half I better my longest in the fall, and at 20 miles had eclipsed what I would have to go all the way back to May to exceed. It had been more than 9 months since my last marathon, a gap I have not had in marathoning since I began.  I missed so many races this year but I got this one done. I always say a marathon is a marathon, no matter how fast you go, and this was the epitome of that phrase. 

 

White Pine Trail

When COVID-19 hit, I needed to do something when the world was falling apart. When the lockdown happened in India, I took to the campus, running laps around the Tiger Turf. Run, turn left, repeat, about a billion times. I was running 5-8 miles on that small, rectangular field, begging for an overuse injury.  But on that first run I got the idea in my head to do a marathon on campus - that's about 943 left turns on the turf.  Unfortunately (or a big blessing), we took an evacuation flight out of the country that week and repatriated to the USA for the duration.  My Two Hearted Marathon (that I missed last year due to the ankle injury) was canceled.  Disappointed, I needed a new goal.

Dinking around on Google Maps, I found a trail that I have crossed over and back in the car or a bike every time I went to Big Rapids. Four years of owning this house and I had no idea there was a great trail 15 minutes from me. The White Pine Trail is a 92.2 mile, former railroad track-turned trail, that runs from Walker, MI (Grand Rapids) to Cadillac, MI.  It is the longest such trail in Michigan and a state park the entire way (perhaps one of the most narrow state parks in the country!). The trail is relatively wooded, oscillates between paved and dirt sections, and passes through about 10 quaint towns. People run, bike, snowmobile, and ride horses on it. With it right there, I had to run it. Due to my recent disastrous history with ultra events (see pretty much every endurance story I have written in the past 7 years), I quickly pushed out the idea of running it straight through. But why not run the whole thing in segments?  My journey had begun.

Since coming back to the US, I had been getting back in running shape. I bumped the miles up, did a 20 miler (which I didn't even do in prep for my fall or winter marathons), and worked up to 60-70 miles per week. I ended a 20 miler with a 6:30 mile. But my best day was the day after I did a 13 miler.  Three days before I had slipped a disc in my back helping a friend move junk and was in major pain. I then headed out for my run which was going to be a double run; instead, I did the 13 miles straight in about 7:20/mi.  I felt great, so when I had 12 miles more the next day, I was pumped. The route was partially on dirt roads and was very hilly, but I was flying. My last 6 miles were under 7:00/mi and my last 5K in about 20:20 or so, and I was still holding back. The next week I did 5 straight days (14, 12, 13, 10, 10.5) of double digits, all in single runs.  I then ended the week poorly with many days on the boat, in the sun, staying up late, and celebrating too much with end-of-year goodbyes. I spent Memorial Day eating brats and tater tots. It was not ideal. Tuesday-Sunday I had 100 miles to run, and for 5 days I would be on the White Pine Trail.

Day 1: Comstock Park to Sand Lake
21.5 miles
3:00:59 (8:25/mi)

Start 6:25am
I arrived at the non-descript trailhead as dawn was breaking. Today was the hottest day of the year so far, and it was a steamy start. I wandered off, feeling very clunky wearing a vest after not using one since the Grand Canyon. I started very slow, cautious not to run too fast too early. Sweat was dripping in the first few moments, and I was soaked by mile 3. Soon after the start, I merged with the true WP trail, having run about a half a mile farther to get there. The trail is mostly flat so there was not much variation, and on I went passing runners and cyclists. I felt better by 8 miles or so and drank about 40oz of water during the run. It wasn't enough. I was goosed in sweat on my first day of a big week, and I knew that would factor in. My feet hurt (all the pavement?) from mile 16 on, and although my time dropped a lot by the end, I was very determined not to run faster with 4 more days left of big runs on this trail.

Start of the trail

finishing up with the girls 21.5 miles later

Leg 1 is done

Day 2: Sand Lake to Stanwood
20.4 miles
2:52:07 (8:27/mi)

Start 6:32am
I was really worried about today, fearing not being able to recover from the first day. But right out the door, I felt better than I thought and even had to put the breaks on early to keep in smart. I saw so many people on the trail yesterday but today I saw just 3 the entire time. It was super humid again and everything seemed to roll on well for a while. But I started to feel cruddy around 12 and bad by 16. The last 4 miles were a huge struggle as I felt really empty and had a sour stomach. Upon finishing, I was pretty spent and struggled most of the afternoon trying to re-hydrate. Temps crept toward 90 again. It was 17 degrees hotter than the historical average for the day and 26 degrees hotter than the same day a week earlier. I picked the wrong window for this run.

Start of leg 2

A rough finish 

Hurting bad after 20 more miles in the humidity

Day 3: Stanwood to Paris
16 miles
2:21:04 (8:47/mi)
Humidity: 94%
No. of people I saw on the trail: 3 (1 cyclist, 1 runner, 1 dog walker)

Start: 6:24am
Recovery yesterday was a problem. I couldn't hydrate well, had no appetite, and was very sore. Today started poorly and continued throughout. It was stinking wet out there (with blue skies) and I stumbled from the start. My slowest mile yet was my first one and although I got it back together, I needed multiple walk breaks to get keep from shutting down. I pushed an extra mile on the trail today (to limit tomorrow's distance) and I paid for it dearly. At the finish, I hunched over and threw up. I was dripping with sweat just standing there.  The rest of the day was uncomfortable, stomach off, with a splitting headache. My face was ashen and sunk in. My body was not handling the humidity and I was hurting. I feared not being able to finish this journey.

Not excited for leg 3

Post vomit at the end, very done and dusted

 Day 4: Paris to LeRoy
19.34 miles
2:51:47 (8:53/mi)
# of people I saw on the trail: 1 cyclist (in the final quarter-mile)

Start: 7:37am
Amazing what a good night's rest can do. I awoke with less of headache and pain in my legs than I had in the previous 36 hours. I got a later start owing to the cooler temps and further away starting point. Rain greeted me early and held for more than an hour, ranging from drizzle to pouring. The humidity stayed high but the temps were much lower than previous days which helped. I never felt good but even though today was rough, I never felt worse than I did yesterday or in the final miles of day 2. I managed 10 miles of consistent running before taking a walk break and then did 2-3 miles after that with a brief (~1 min) walk. Every half mile felt like 2 full ones, and my pace slipped low even though I felt like I was running faster. I arrived in LeRoy short of distance but the trail broke away from the road and I ended up getting picked up 1.1 miles further down than anticipated. Feeling much better than yesterday, going the extra mile did hurt a bit. But I came home and had a better day than any other, going for a boat ride, doing some dishes after grilling, and a short bike ride. It was my first functional afternoon of the week. I am looking forward to finishing this trail.

Start of leg 4, ready to rock

Finishing up well with Kaze

4 down, 1 to go

Day 5: LeRoy to Cadillac 
15 miles
2:02:54 (8:11/mi)
# of people on the trail: 20+

Start: 8:39am
The dawn was crisp, 40 degrees cooler than this week's high, and humidity much lower. It was the perfect recipe for the final day. I had 15 miles of trail left, my shortest day, due to going a bit longer on each of the two previous days. I huffed off, making good time on the trail, but not feeling great in the legs; my IT bands were tight and I felt like I was limping a bit. But my pace was good, and I kept on down the trail, determined to finish this challenge off. I felt better as time went on and soon I was cruising. With a few miles to go, I let go of the worry and cruised, dropping the miles below the 8 min mark. I arrived in Cadillac to an anticlimatic trail finish - the wide path ended at a road and a sidewalk continued around the lake. Neither had a trail marker and the 91st wooded mile marker I had seen was nearly two miles ago (and I knew the trail was 92.2 miles by reports).  That about sums it up: an anticlimactic finish for an anticlimatic trail. Paved nearly all the way with almost no turns, there are many better trails, but this one was a good challenge to take on. I felt brilliant afterward, buoyed by the finishing speed and the culmination of 5 days and nearly 100 miles of running. We ordered food for take-away and ate by the lake, chilly in the wind.

Leg 5 - the end is that way

The finish in Cadillac, 92.5 miles later

Rounding out the run for an even 15 mi on the day

And because we like round numbers, I did a nice 7.8 mile run on Sunday to make it 100 miles for the week. I finished the last mile with my girls running with me.  In 6 days, I had run more than I have ever run in a week (excluding the week of a 100-mile race).  It was very difficult, but not because I couldn't handle the distance. My body was used to bouncing back from 15 mile runs in 7:30/mi pace like a snap and I was feeling the best I have felt, maybe ever. The humidity to start (3 straight days of 90% or more humidity) left me empty, dehydrated and trashed. My body doesn't respond - water doesn't go in or stay in. I deteriorated. The last two days of the trail (when I already had about 60 miles beneath me) were much better because the weather improved. If I had this good weather all week I may have been able to do it much faster, or if I did this trail over 6 or 7 days I would have flown. Then again, if the humidity stayed, I may not have finished, or worse. So, silver linings...

Views From the Trail

My motivation stemmed from several sources: I kicked it off with David Goggins' Can't Hurt Me, an inspiring story about from the hardest man alive. I re-read Running with the Buffaloes, Once a Runner, and Lance Armstrong's It's Not About the Bike.  I watched movies like Remember the Titans, Lone Survivor, as well as some of Armstrong's races. If I choose to suffer, it really helps to remember what others have gone through. I wanted to see if I could do it. Why I don't think the body wants the long ultras anymore, I know it has the potential to do more.

Once a runner...

A Marathon Off the Couch

Man on first. 2nd batter of the game is up. A hard hit to left-center. I push off and take 5 hard strides to the ball. It is going to drop. I lay out and make the sliding catch. A cracking sound rips through my body. I know the guy on first could tag up or is caught off the bag from my catch so I throw the ball in, but I can't watch the play because I am unable to get up. After a few moments, I rise and finish the inning. I even bat 8 for 8 that day but can't even run to first base. I fear I have broken my ribs (cue flashback of my blown ankle 10 months ago).

An ER visit and several consultations later, I am convinced my ribs are not broken and that I have torn muscles.  I cannot run, jump, cough, burp, or sneeze without immense pain.  Sleep is negligible as every movement hurts badly. I lose about a week thinking it is skeletal, and then I start on the anti-inflammatory medicine and patches to clear it up.

I already have had significant interruption to my running. After the ankle healed in June, I got in a bit of jogging over the summer before a very minimal training plan going into Venice, which hurt due to a lack of prep. Then the bad air set in, and - demoralized - I hit the gym for mostly weak cardio and weights. A trip to New Zealand did nothing to boost mileage, and then I came back and lost 5 days training to the hockey tournament in Leh. The first day back from that I was cranking out 1km repeats with the high school boys. On the cool down, I felt the hamstring give a pop. That took me out for a week. Then, just as I was starting to get some real runs in, the softball injury.  Am I getting old? Am I unlucky? Is this karma for my life's choices?

New Delhi Marathon looked out. It sucked because I wanted that to launch me into real spring training. I also wanted it to be my 79th marathon because I have my heart set on a run this summer that I would like to be #80 for personal reasons. Now it looked like both were in jeopardy. I biked indoors for a week, then walked on the treadmill for another.  With 6 days to go before the marathon,  I walk/jogged a 10 miler on the belts. I backed that up with another day of walk/jogging and managed about 5.7 miles in an hour. My friend, Sarah, was running for a Boston Qualifier.  Why not join her? Best case I finish this thing with her, helping her with her goal. Next best I join for a while and limp my way in.  Worst case, I drop out, but I have never DNF'ed a marathon and I don't intend to start here.

This is stupidity. I would never advise a runner who has been hurt twice in two months with no base mileage to do a marathon. But I am not new to this event. And as the title of the blog suggests, the properly planned race gets little airtime. I toed the line with 164 miles in 53 days of 2020, or about 21.8 miles per week. 19 of 53 days I missed, mostly due to injury. The risk of a lasting injury is high given my current training. But I want this. I need this.

2:55am wake up, one canceled Uber and an hour later we were off. My friend, Sarah, agreed to keep it smart but I could tell right away she was in better shape than she thought. We ran 8:12 for each of the first four miles and I told her we have to back this off or accept the consequences later.  She agreed and we managed a bunch of mid 8:teens and low 8:20s for a long way. We hit halfway in 1:49:00 or about 3:39 for a marathon pace. Things got more difficult for her in the 2nd half as they do but there were no issues. At 19.5 miles, she bolted for the bushes and had to take care of business.  We rallied back for 2 miles before the issues returned. Self-doubt and struggle crept in at 22 miles but I tried to help her stay focused and keep moving through. She slowed a lot but we were ahead of pace and limiting the damage.  At 24 miles, she was off the course again and I could only wait. When it hits, it hits. I knew then we would not break 3:45 as we lost 3 minutes to stops and another 4 to just the slower pace on the road after the stops (the legs flood, the muscles tighten, and it seems too far). But I asked her to put in one mile of hard work and she did, getting back on pace and driving home. She finished and we were at 3:45:24, not sub 3:45 flat but still 5 min to the good of her Boston Qualifying time.  Not all races are about place or time - sometimes we run to test other things.

5 miles in near India Gate in the pre-dawn

1 mile to go

Keeping form on the track

Almost at the line

Pacing this woman reminded me of all the times I have been helped out there on the course. My mind goes to Sarah, my wife, Rod Y., Mike R., Michael T., and Kirsten L who have patiently guided me along the roads, over the hills, and down the trail, often, if not always, at expense to their sleep, time, family, and the cost of travel. We are always alone out there in the sport of running - no one can do it for you. But sometimes it is nice to have someone along for the ride. And I am glad I got to do that for someone today.

I felt very good despite not running more in a week than I did that day for the past 5 months. I played softball in the afternoon and now my legs are going to pay for that combination. But I got it done, and with some active recovery, I can start to train. March will be interrupted with travel, but April and May are booked for some actual running.

Pond Hockey in the Mountains - Revistited

-30 C at sunrise in the Himalaya

At 7am, the sun is only just peeking over the snow-capped mountain ridges. Inside, we are warm, sipping hot chocolate and light garlic soup, the breakfast of champions. Outside, it is nearing -30 degrees Celcius with the windchill, and we are heading out there to play hockey. No roof, no heat, just a frozen lake at over 12,000ft.  It's Pond Hockey in the Himalayas.  This is Leh, Ladakh, India, and today is the finals of the Indo-Canadian Cup.

One year ago: I join a group from the Canadian High Commission to play ice hockey in the mountains.  I tried to play when I first moved to Delhi but no info came my way. The next year I was all over it, yet the Canadian team didn't get a bid. I missed out on playing in the game that set the Guinness World Record for highest altitude outdoor hockey game. Last year, I did get to play. We lost in the semi-finals. I had 6 goals and an assist, the most on my team. You can find that post here. It was a fun weekend but this year we wanted to do better.

Thursday: We flew up to Leh a day earlier than last year to acclimate better.  The first 24 hours were spent eating, hydrating and either sleeping or lying down. I watched a bunch of movies and relaxed. Last year we were delayed 3.5 hours on the plane because the smog was so bad. With games starting Saturday morning early, we did not want to risk a delay cutting our time to prepare short. Thankfully, the flight did go out (an hour late) and we got to Leh easily.  Right as we walked into the hotel, legendary hockey player Slava Fetisov was filming a final interview for his project, The Last Game. We got to meet him, and as a Red Wings fan, this was a real honor.

HOF legend Slava Fetisov

Friday: There was an opportunity to get out to an eco-friendly school (no fossil fuels, solar-powered, grown own food) for a visit and have a skate with the children there.  We helped them learn better skating and stopping and played a fun game.  Since it was light hockey, I only wore my skates and gloves.  A kid took a shot and hit me in the shin (which bounced to my other shin). Recovering from that I made a pass, caught my skate in a crack, and fell backwards on my elbow. I decided that was a sign to get off the ice.  About 10 min later my elbow felt wet, and I knew instantly it was blood. I'd split it open pretty good and took some very questionable first aid from a lady at the school.  Stitches were in my future.

That will need stitches

Taking a cab to the hospital, I was escorted by a woman from the hotel. We wandered around this building, trying to find a room, but with no signs, it was impossible. By happenstance, we came upon the doctor's office where he removed the hack-wrapping job, cleaned it, and ordered me for stitches.  We returned to the lobby to register. I was ordered to pay 5 rupees ($0.07 USD), and I pulled out a 500 (about $8 US). They didn't have change and said to forget it. We hunted for room #40 for a while longer and finally came to the surgical theater.  It looked like the move set of "Saw."  Fluid stains and bloody bandages littered the floor. Antiseptic cleansers lay open on tables. The bedsheet on the gurney was a canvas tarp like you would use when painting or cover a boat. It, too, was riddled with dark red stains.  The man said to jump up on the table and lay down. I stared at the filth, shook my head and said "no way."  He looked at me for a moment then down at the bed and back again, trying to make sense of my concern. He seemed to get it and flipped the canvas over, gesturing to hop up. I shrugged, prayed, and sat down, trying to keep as few points of my body in contact with the bed as possible.  They washed me down with iodine and, after verifying I was getting a clean needle, they tried to give me a local anesthetic. The woman opened the suture kit and stuck it through my skin. I tensed with pain. The medication had done nothing (it was probably water, or if I am lucky, saline), and proceeded to knot and aggressively tie four stitches in my arm. I winced each time, fighting the pulls of thread and the prick of skin with no numbing agent. A rough night followed as I had a very swollen arm that ached with pain and made me nearly scream out each time I touched it to the bed. I was uncertain I could still play hockey. It bled all night. I guess you get what you pay for (or don't pay for).

Saturday:  Morning came and I had to cut the wrap off. Circulation helped and I slapped on a large bandage and went to breakfast. We dressed in the hotel (since there are no locker rooms at the pond and it is very cold), and boarded the bus. Like last year, we arrived at the pond in town and started to shovel the snow off the ice. It took 1 hour to remove it and a lot of work at this elevation.

But then game 1 was on. We faced off against Randstad Blue, a mix of good skaters and weaker players.  Jeff had an early shot that was left lying in front of the net and I came in a banged it home for the first goal of the game. The rest went along nicely except for a semi-breakaway I had which ended in me getting cross-checked in the neck. We won 3-0 so I had the game-winning goal.

Slurpie Line (#s 7-7-11)

Game 2: After a half an hour off, we returned to the ice (after sweeping and shoveling of course) to face the Scouts, a military team-based high in the mountains of Ladakh.  Their oxygen capacity and physical fitness greatly outmatched ours, and it showed. Red was all over us every second of the game on that small ice surface. Our line never even registered a shot on goal. We would get the puck and three red jerseys were there, chipping and breaking up the play. We were outgunned from the start and suffered a 1-0 loss.

Exhausted trying to get something done

A frustrated Slurpie (7-11) line

I deflect a shot between my legs that goes wide of the net, the
closest we come to a shot on goal.

Game 3: We finished the morning playing the Randstad White team who also had a mix of players, though we expected them to be tougher. Their fast defenseman tried to carry the puck out and I went at him, chipped it away and went in. With him hanging on me I was able to beat him to it and slide it far side past the goalie for a 1-0 lead. I later had an assist on Jeff's goal.  We won 2-0 and again I had the game-winner plus an assist.

Charity Game:  A bus ride down to a river took us to a charity event. First, we hopped on a pond to play against the Indo-Tibetan Police Team.  Exhausted from our games, we expected defeat from these faster guys.  Right off the opening face-off I came at a guy just like Game 3 earlier in the day and picked him. I chased the puck to the corner, peeled back, kicked it ahead, and slid it to Jeff for a one-timer. It was about the last good play we had. It is in the video below. We were exhausted. We finished the game and helped pushed disabled athletes on sleds in a charity game. It was fun and felt good but soon the wind and the fatigue of the day caught up and we needed to be done.

Sunday: We rose early to bitter cold and prepared for the final games. The semis and finals were hosted on the "big rink", a purpose-built venue with seating and boards. As the #2 seed, we had to play #3 which was a rematch with the Randstad Blue team. We had a chance early on when Jeff and I went to the net. He opted not to pass and put a backhander over the net. They played us tight to a scoreless tie at the half.  On the first shift of the 2nd half, we struck. Ricky (D) picked off the puck and slides it to his other D-man, Sylvain, who taps it to Jeff. He sends it ahead to me and as I cross the line I pull a drop pass where Mike takes it and fires it home. Nothing like a goal where everyone touches the puck. 1-0.  That goal is below.

A few moments later Scott scores on line 2 and we are up a couple of goals. I missed a one-timer but then we get a break. Jeff wins a face off and Mike sends it down ice; meanwhile, I am racing up the left-wing and break into the zone. It is snowing and sunny but I am able to discern that one of the people breaking to the net is our guy. I hit Ricky, who jumped up from defense on the play, and he slams it home (see below).

In the final moments, I pick off their defensemen and might have been in alone but I am tripped and draw a penalty (below). At the horn, I have 2 assists, and we win the semi-final 3-1.

Finals: We have one last game and it is a rematch of the Scouts who just killed the White team 6-1. They are the home team, trained at altitude and have the fans. But we have big ice. No more of that small pond where they are all over us. No, now we have boards we can use and open ice to pass on. This is the hockey we grew up with. We are ready.

Face off with the Slurpie Line

Jeff and Justin - 7's

A little through the legs dangle

The pace is fast but it is apparent we have room to work. At about the 5-minute mark, I break for the net and Jeff sees me coming. It is a perfect pass for a one-timer, but I miss. Luckily it hits me in the foot and goes in (see below). We take what we can get. 1-0.

Moments later, our winger on the 2nd line plain outworks their defense and scores a lovely goal. We are up 2-0.  We have a solid lead at the half, but our team is worried. I try to give a speech, reminding them that this ice is different and that these guys are more tired than we think. I get laughs but I am serious - they lack the jump.  My guys don't look convinced but I know what is happening.  The Scouts up the pressure significantly in the 2nd half. They get to the puck first and want it more. However, they just don't seem to get quality chances and their shots come from bad angles or are deflected.  I see the puck go to their end at the end of a long shift and I bust ass to get there in time to pull a waster on the goalie.  The bench yells as it looks like it goes in, but the refs are far off and can't tell so it is called a no goal.  A shift later we ice the puck and the time runs out. 2-0 victory, and my 3rd game-winning goal in 5 games.

Delhi Sacred Bulls - 2020 Indo-Canadian Cup Champions

Champions