Adventures
in the Slalom Kayak Circuit - Volume III
The 2004 U.S. Olympic Team Trials
by Adam L. VanGrack
Day One: Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde.
As the beeps start the count-down for my very first run (of six) in my first U.S. Olympic Team Trials, excitement takes hold of me. All of my hard work over the past year has paid off. I was able to qualify for Olympic Trials, and here at the starting gate, I'm seconds away from my first run. The course is lined with spectators, the moves are predictably tough, and I am ready to fly down the course. Peeling out above the start, I head for the first gate... Sweep - Draw. Perfect! I aced the first gate! On to the second gate... Sweep - Pull - Reverse sweep - Pull. Crap! The gate just flew by...
And thus, on my second gate of my first Team Trials, I score a big, fat "50" and spend 8 seconds of hard paddling trying to (unsuccessfully) get it back. Surprisingly, my time isn't the worst out there as 26 "50s" are given out for Gate 2, but my time is clearly located towards the bottom. As one could imagine, the ensuing few hours until my second run of the day are pretty rough -- though my boat hasn't been disqualified for being "underweight" as one qualifier's boat has been. I get back in the water, and I'm finally psyched up to run the gauntlet again…
However, mere seconds before I paddle over to the starting line, my paddle sticks into a side-crack (the race course is artificial) and splits open. Well, it really can't get much worse than this, can it? Wondering if this odyssey to Olympic Trials has been a massive mistake, the starting beacon beeps off the beginning of my second run. As I sail (correctly) through Gate 2, I'm quickly reenergized. I fly through the course on my second run. I slide in and out of the gates with precision, amass only two touches, and acquire a time that is 101 seconds faster than my first run. Two runs. One rocky, one smooth. In sum, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde...
Overview.
For those of us who are highly unlikely to participate (this year) in international competition, U.S. Olympic Team Trials is "the big one." The stakes include acquiring membership onto the U.S. National Team and a chance at Olympic glory. The race itself is three days long, the moves are as tough as they come, and you can't just walk into this one, you must qualify. My goal this year was to qualify, and thus, with a successful winter, I'm here. I'm playing with "the big dogs" and ready for action. The six runs of three courses in three days occurred this year on the East Race Waterway in South Bend, Indiana. The course is not as steep at the Dickerson Race Course in Maryland and not as wide as some of the natural state championship courses, but there are plenty of holes, a few good drops, and many potentials for disaster. In fact, as I finished one of my runs, I could just barely make out a black spot in front of me. I soon realized that it was a recently ejected paddler. I rush over to aid in the collection of gear (and person) as a competitor was tossed on the last drop and had to swim.
During the week before the Trials, everyone was on the course trying to predict where the actual race moves will be, while also trying to get enough rest. The course was abuzz with activity. During my first day on the course after needing to roll after a tough move, young C1 prodigy Casey Eichfeld paddles over to advise, "Hey Adam, I hope you didn't open your mouth!" Clearing up my confusion, Casey informed me that another paddler had swallowed water on the course the day before and was in the hospital -- information that would have been useful before I got on the water. Practicing on the course, the best-of-the-best are working on moves right beside each other. Scott "Passing all the" Parsons nails an upstream at the top of the course... Sarah "Over and under" Leith glides through some offset gates by one of the drops... Ryan "Auto" Bahn pivots on his stern in a eddy - simply to pivot on his stern...
Day Two: Consistency.
Knowing I was able to put together at least one solid run the day before, I gear up for the second course. This course also has its tough moves, but they are mostly in the middle of the course, rather than at the beginning -- specifically, upstream Gate 11, directly over a wide, sticky hole. I'm aware that I probably (and hopefully) will not have as bad of a run as my first run the day before, so I am ready to attack the course. Despite a touch or two, my first run of the day is flowing rather well approaching Gate 11. With a quick turn and a face upstream, I know I have to be strong and quick to ace Gate 11. Powering through the backwash, I get through it, turn to exit and (directly in front of the largest crowd of the two days), flip over in dramatic fashion. Miraculously though, the hole spits me out rapidly and I pop up facing my next gate and arguably save a few seconds on the exit. Cheers erupt from the crowd as I speed downstream. Overall, my time is not too bad -- and did I mention, much better than the first run from yesterday?
Like the day before, the second run begins even better than the first. Racing down to Gate 11, I know I have a fast time through Gate 10 under my belt. Turning up to Gate 11 for the second time today, my only thought is: Get in, get out, don't flip. With those six words echoing in my head, I punch through the gate and… flip. Of course I rolled up (again to applause, but in reality with disappointment), and I charge to the finish.
Having gotten through the middle gates, I'm now heading for the last two gates, I suddenly see the competitor who started one minute before me spinning in the eddy by Gate 18. I'm heading straight for him... I back off a bit -- until he then exits the eddy. Then, I run the upstream Gate 18, only to then see him currently surfing (unintentionally) the hole before the last gate. I wait for him and then proceed to the last gate. Even though I had to back off from hitting the paddler in front of me, I am not awarded a "rerun" for interference because our "boats did not touch". I am told to "ram him" if it happens again -- completely unsafe, but I guess rules are rules. Even with my delayed finish, my second run is about seven seconds faster than the first. I've now moved up in the standings with a solid day. Overall, I had provided the crowd with entertainment and logged three straight decent runs. Pretty good for a first-time qualifier. Now, just two more runs to go...
The Scene.
As competing paddlers are not permitted to run the course after the gates have been set for the next day, demonstration runs (or demos) at Team Trials occur every evening before the next day's runs. Dozens of video cameras record each demo runners lines on the fresh course, pencils on pads of paper scribble notes about the course, chants of "flip! flip! flip!" break out during the predicted tough moves, and cheers erupt when one of the demo runners nails a particularly tough move.
With each passing day of Trials, the crowds grow and kids begin asking for competitors' autographs. While the course seemed packed on Friday, by Saturday anyone wishing to cross over any of the foot bridges crossing the course had great difficulty. For the final two days of the competition an announcer (connected to speakers all throughout the course), performed play-by-play of each paddlers' jaunt down the course complete with a crowd pleasing "Ooooouuu" for the crash-and-burns, and an "Oh, Yes!" for the great moves.
The atmosphere of the East Race is continuously charged. Pleadings of "Up, up, up!" can be heard from the course. Cheers and gasps echo throughout the Waterway area. Competitors are seen complaining to their coach or family member about their current problem (whether a nonbuoyant life jacket or a mediocre run). Fire crackers are lit off on the distance. David and Jennifer Hearn's van -- always parked up front -- is plastered with a collection of results, posters, daily articles about / pictures from the races, and starting times. After all, for the non-international racers, this is the big one.
As one could imagine, South Bend, Indiana in early April is not the most ideal spot for outdoor competition. However, the only snow seen on the course was on the final day of the competition and, for the most part, the sun shone brightly. Nonetheless, the wind was often unbearable and forced many live gates to "dance." Paddling clothes placed out to dry were constantly found throughout the parking lots and grassy knolls. In fact, after the second day of competition, my skirt mysteriously disappeared. Thankfully, I had brought a spare -- though it was slightly "holey". Nonetheless, surprisingly after my second run on the final day, a completely different skirt appeared hanging on my car (as if a trade had been made). No one seemed to have ever seen my skirt and no one ever claimed the new skirt...
Day Three: Put Them Together...
One day and two runs left for this episode of Olympic Trials. While I am not necessarily in contention for the Olympic Team, many others are, as different leaders topped each day's standings for K1, C1, and C2. I'm hoping for two solid runs to close out the weekend. With TV cameras placed all up and down the course and certain parts of the course four people deep with spectators, it's time for the final show-down. My run begins fluid as Gates 1 through 7 proceed smoothly. Unfortunately, my performance in the next few gates is not as suave. However, in the more difficult section of the course (Gates 16-19), my moves are sublime (and I acquire an excellent split). Now, if I can only paddle through the easier sections just as successfully.
Knowing all of my required strokes and turns solid, I am released from the start for a final time… With the smoothness that I have always reached for, I knock off the first sixteen gates. My upstreams are in-and-out, my off-sets are quick and I have hardly touched a gate. My paddling is effortless and I actually feel like I am flying down the course. Approaching Gate 17, it's all home-free. Well… in theory. My edge gets caught in the hole through Gate 17 and I flip… assuming I had already missed ("50ed") it, I continue down upset (in truth, I hadn't missed it yet and could have gone back). Nonetheless, I get surfed for a few seconds after Gate 18 and barely make Gate 19. Consequently, if you put together Gates 1-16 of my second run and 17-19 of my first run, I have a fantastic time. And honestly, considering this is Olympic Team Trials, I'm pretty happy with that.
Adam VanGrack during the USA Olympic Team Trials
2004 East Race Waterway, South Bend, IN
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