I spent this day in Quebec City, some 300KM away from Montreal - Halloween marks the championship day of the Quebec Provincial Cross-Country Championships. Location: Plains of Abraham, Quebec City.
The Battle of the Plains of Abraham was arguable the most significant battle ever fought in North America. Ironically, our race on the same battlefield 500 years later is our most important 'battle' this season.
My team and I arrived on Friday night. After 3 and a half hours on the Coach bus through the weekend traffic, we arrived at our hotel, had our team dinner, and did a bit of team bonding before we rested our bodies for the final battle next day.
6:30AM, morning of Halloween, we awakened our bodies, and drained in some high-octane breakfast. By 9:30, we arrived at the battlefield, the Plains of Abraham. The Redmen sworn loyalty to their General; we will not surrender until the last man is down, we did not plan to "live" after we cross the finish line.
I've been through this before, many times. As soon as that number is pinned on my singlet, I'm mentally ready to race, going through the same emotions as if each race is a movie, and I've rewinded it and hit replay. I remember giving the talks on the starting line, I remember the huddles we used huddles, and connect our souls to the bodies next to us... no difference this time.
* * *
The first gunshot sounded at 11:15AM, signaling the beginning of the battle. Rain began to fall, mixing well with the dirt on the hills. The Redmen formed a long, thin line, two-men deep as historically strategified by General Wolfe. We bursted out towards the Western front. Fierce fighting began. Row by row, men fell and they were left behind the pack.
Five loops, 10KM, 98 men, the battle couldn't have been more intense. Sherbooke, with its veteran generals, dominated the front. Behind them were McGill and Laval, who matched shot-for-shot, man-for-man...stride-for-stride. At 61 pts a piece, we tied Laval for 2nd place. Laval reserve army, however, outnumbered that of ours, claimed victory, and a trip to the Nationals...
I clocked my personal best, finished better than what had been expected of me, but the day remained to be dark and gloomy. Despite of a personal success and a rare gratitude from the coaching staff, I was more hurt than ever. As cold and stoic as I normally am, I was uneasy with the latest defeat. Could I have possibly had the feelings to feel a heart-break? After all the miles logged under the shoes, the loops through the woods, the push-ups, the ice-baths, the pain the dedication, all there left to say is, "better 'luck' next season"?
I fell on my knees, soaking in the rain in the open field. Body trembling in cold, lips purple, with two soul-less eyes staring down.
I am the ghost, on the Plains of Abraham.
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