Back to Normal

I'm finally coming out of seclusion. Grahame e-mailed me urgently for some of my measurements for the cockpit fitting, I think he got a little pissed off that I stopped communicating.

Paul called on Monday night, he is still very polite and measured when he talks to me, possibly because I told him I was disappointed and angry about our team performance, but he did finally say what I expected him to say -- that I have not communicated with my teammates enough.

I was going to blame Yuki again, and I am not just saying this after the fact, even before the race, I have been telling Carol and Dennis, and also hinted to Paul and some of his friends, that I am getting very sick of listening to Yuki's verbal assaults and tantrums. They are mostly directed at Paul, Paul's friends said if Paul is happy to put up with it, it is not in my position to worry about it. But it does bother me, anybody can lose self control when physically exhausted; but it appears Yuki makes no effort to even be civil; and Paul makes no effort to stand up for himself. Listening to Yuki snap at Paul makes me want to snap at Yuki, which I refuse to do, so I chose to walk away.

But that's not strictly true; I do have a habit of running off on my own, on kayaks or on my feet.

And even before Paul said so, I have written in my blog that I didn't pay enough attention to the team aspects. I think I lack the social maturity to take up the responsibility and try to influence my teammates.

In early October, I was suffering from over-training (I did moon trekker + MCH 9-10, then MCH 1-5, then Jardin's Lookout + Mt. Buttler + Mt. Violet + the Twins + Pat Sin + Cloudy Hill + MCH 4-6,) my lactic acid never got a chance to clear, my speed begun to drop, and I told Paul I was considering resigning from the team, because I didn't think I will be fast enough to make it in 30 hours and I didn't want to hold other teammates back. At that time, Paul told me that during the race, everybody walks on his own, the faster members will just have to wait at the checkpoint, so I shouldn't feel pressured to be as fast as everybody else in the team.

I took his words as permissions to go at my own pace. I sort of knew that wasn't his intension, he didn't want me to feel pressured, but he wasn't exactly giving me permission to go through the entire course on my own without my team. It wasn't nice of me to take his words out of context, but I have to say, it's very ... typical.

After talking to Paul, I felt I have kept silent long enough, it's about time I started talking to Yuki. So I wrote on her FB wall, expressing my disappointments. Her LP "seniors" jumped on me and missed no chance to tell me what an over ambitious, inconsiderate git I am, it's rather amusing that none of them were on the trail with us, none of them had trained for the event or attempted the event, none of them knew how Yuki behaved during training (or lack of training) and also during the race, yet they felt they were in a position to lecture me on the "true value of trailwalker."

Yuki blocked me from her wall and deleted me from her friend list, which didn't surprise me. So I wrote her a private message directed at our entire team instead. I didn't expect her to listen to what I have to say, she is so full of herself right now, any criticism simply bounces off her. But I did what I could and I can honestly say that I did it for her sake. It would be so much easier for me to keep quiet and forget her like a bad dream.

Then Dennis called last night, I was so happy to hear from him. He actually read my entire blog entry! (and it's ridiculously long!) It's almost as good as having him on the trail with me. At least we get to debrief together, which brings back fond memories. Dennis seemed entirely too happy to see me suffer. He still hasn't forgive me for what I put him through on the water. I'm too glad to have his moral support. I did second guess my decision to write to Yuki. She did react poorly, no more than I expect, but I had to wonder if I am creating more problems for my team by writing to her with honesty when I knew she isn't ready to listen.

Called Carol this morning, life is going to go back to "normal," if my life ever was normal :)

Confronting Yuki

I finally confronted Yuki, I'm not very good at this kind of things, I wasn't sure what would be the best approach, but I had decided I would be blunt, with no sugar coating.  I expected her to find excuses, I don't expect her to accept what I have to say, but I want her to hear the raw message.  One day, she will remember, amidst all her pampering friends, someone out there was willing to be honest with her and tell her what she needed to hear.

Yuki, I want you to know, I didn't write what I wrote to hurt you. I think you did the best you could during the race, and I am proud of you for finishing it despite being so unprepared. 

I am disappointed that you never took our team goal seriously, you made very little effort to train towards attaining the goal, you just blindly and naively believed you could somehow do it when the time comes. I hope you've learnt the lesson: endurance events required dedications and consistent training, you can't just cram in a few last minute training sessions and hope for the best.

Your lack of preparations costed you your well beings, it also costed our team's cohesion. I wish you didn't have to find out the consequences at such a high cost, I know you suffered greatly during the race, and despite all your fault, I don't think you deserve to suffer like that. 

I do feel responsible for our team's failure, Paul and I both knew you weren't ready and needed to train more months before the event, yet I've said nothing to you. Your disregards for your commitment to our team's target frustrated Paul and I greatly, your refusal to see that you are responsible for what you have committed to only aggravates our tension. If you don't have the time to train for the event, you should have resigned from our team. If you think 30 hours is too much to aim for, you should have voiced your concerns and re-negotiate for a more attainable target. But instead, you airily declared your complete confidence in your ability to "win," despite contributing very little efforts in getting ready for the event. That's very irresponsible. Your friends will have you believe you did a great job, that you are blameless. But in the end, it's not your friends that you need to impress. You simply have to answer to yourself.

Your friends seem to think I'm disappointed at you because we didn't finish the walk in better time. That's simply not true. If you had trained hard for the event, if you did the best you could and this is the outcome, I would have been proud and happy to accept it. If you trained hard but had to pull out in the middle of the event, we will still be proud of you. None of us in the team wished you to get injured, none of us wish you to risk your health by over extending yourself. No one is born with the ability to succeed in this kind of demanding tasks. There really is no secret, you reap what you sow, how much you get out depends on how much you put in. You chose to put in very little effort in training and continuously skipped practice, yet expected great results, that is ludicrous.

I write this a few months too late, I should have said this months ago, when you still had a chance to reconsider your commitment, when you still had a chance to make some hard choices. It isn't easy for me to come out and confront you like this, it would have been much easier for me to just keep quiet and forget about this like a bad dream. But as a friend, as someone who cares about your well being, I think this is the least I can do for you.

all the best,

Trailwalker 2009 - my account

The night before the walk, I was a quite apprehensive. I knew I should go to bed as early as possible, I can endure a lot of physical stress, but sleep deprivation has always been my greatest weakness.  But I procrastinated. I didn't want to pack, didn't want to think about what I might need on the trail through the cold night. I wanted to delay thinking about the pain of it all as much as humanly possible.

Went to bed at 1 am, then got back up to pack a couple more items, back to bed, up again to make a drink, back to bed, up again. At some point I woke up with a start, coming out of a bad dream, first I dreamt that I slept in and got disqualified. Then I dreamt that Yuki decides not to do it after all and our team gets disqualified.

But then Dennis called in the morning, which calmed me down a lot.

Lugging the gears from Tai Tan to Po Leung Kuk was painful, both of my feet really hurt before I even made it out of Tai Tan, I purchased a new, thicker pair of insoles, which made my shoes too tight.

I met a superteam when I got to the Tai Tan bus stop. We chatted until they got off at Sheung Yiu, somehow, confessing to feel nervous alleviated my nervousness.

When I got to Pak Tam Chung, I saw a lot of familiar faces; I couldn't help grinning like an idiot all morning.  I got hugged from every direction and people greeted me every corner I turned. "Oh, aren't you the girl I met at Shui Long Wo?" "Hey, do you remember me? I met you on stage ..."  I think I hugged all 12 members of the Jai Ho teams, John gave me a rib-cracking hug that lifted me off the ground, and I giggled like a school girl.

I didn't realize how tight the schedule really was, we got there before eight, but by the time we finished registering, there was hardly any time left for stretching.

And then we started. We were the 0900 batch so we started with the super teams, we were happy to stay behind and walk slowly for the first couple of kilometers, we weren't keen to abuse our joints right off the start.

We had planned to go through the trail in 2 subgroups of 2 members. Paul and I will walk ahead together, Yuki and Kuen will walk together at their own pace. Since we recruited Kuen at the very last moment, and he had very little time to train, we didn't really expect him to finish the walk with us. We just asked him to do what he can, but he exceeded our expectations in every possible way.

Yuki though, acted like a princess right off the start. Paul and I started picking up speed when we start climbing, immediately she called us on the radio to demand us to wait for her. We did, but not long after that, we just sort of go at our own pace. We've decided we will just all meet up at the water station.

I met a few more familiar faces at the water station, I got there 15 minutes ahead of the rest of my team and started to get cold, and my space blanket attracted a lot of stares and talks. Funny how so many people recognized me though, I guess I really have been all over the MacLehose in the last 6 months.

Shortly after the water station (the Pavillion at the end of the dam,) I changed out of my hiking shoes into a pair of trusty old crocs. The HKCU would be proud ... not. But that also whipped up a bit of a sensation, a lot of people noticed and seemed surprised, "my god, I did trailwalker for years and I've never seen anyone doing it in slippers!" It really made me giggle, a lot of the kayaking folks frowned on my habit of wearing crocs (which is against regulation) as well. I think I should ask Crocs to sponsor me and I will be their perfect spokeperson.

I don't think it's a bad idea either, it was a little hard on the ankles, but it's nice to let my toes relax and catch a bit of the breeze circulating in the midday air. Plus, I wouldn't have to spend an hour getting sand out of my shoes after Ham Tin. I soaked my feet in the stream whenever I get a chance, which was nice despite the cold weather. Some of the terrain was a bit difficult to negotiate with crocs, and I probably wasted a bit of energy being extra careful and tense when I walked downhill through the rock faces, but all in all, I still think it was a good strategy.

After we all signed in at CP1, we walked past a few eateries. I pleaded with Paul not to sit down to eat, I still haven't forgotten our previous disastrous practice walk, when Yuki arrived late, held everyone back, and still wanted to go to the most crowded restaurant and get a good table, yet Paul stood by her, and lectured me about how we need to slow down and appreciate the little things in life. I was worried that we were going to sit there for hours again. So when Yuki caught up with us, before Paul even announced his decision, I preempted them and declared we must not stop to eat. If they want to get food, we will get a sandwich and eat as we walk. Yuki scowled at me like I was crazy.

"Eat as we walk?? Why can't we sit down to eat? Why do I have to get a sandwich?"

"Because we are very behind schedule already and we haven't got the time. We have all agreed to work towards the team target, haven't we?"

So she rounded on Paul, "Are we really behind," Paul confirmed that, which I am grateful.

"How behind is behind?" Paul didn't respond, she got visibly upset, "I said, how behind are we? HOW BEHIND ARE WE?" So Paul finally explained our schedule to her and told her we were 20 minutes behind, but if we hurry up we have a good chance of catching up by CP2.

So Yuki agreed grudgingly to just get a sandwich. Paul relented and said we can have 10 minutes of rest here and finish eating before we move on, which annoyed me, but I decided to choose my battles. The shop owner showed us to a table out in the sun, at which I sat down happily and ate my sandwich, but Yuki said she was already too sun burnt and refused to sit with us.

And so we moved on. I timed myself on Stage 3, getting tired of dressing and undressing all the time, I gave up trying to wait for my teammates. I walked at my own pace and sped through Stage 3 in 2 hours and 21 minutes, and I didn't even run. I got very cold waiting for the rest of my team though, and the support team came in late, I think my temper begun to rise at that point. There was also a bit of miscommunication with Paul, and I got short with him, which I'm not proud of. I just wanted to keep going, but my flashlight was with the support team and I couldn't just start off on my own. I felt pretty angry and miserable at the time. I wanted to get warm and I was full of angst to just move on.

Yuki's friend asked her how come we got through Stage 3 so quickly, Yuki said that's because she is a great hiker. I felt pretty venomous at that point. We could have been so much faster, she was the one who constantly held us back, acted like a princess, threw tantrums, forget to bring a cap so the whole team had to wait for support staff to deliver, was verbally abusive to Paul and the guys in our support team, had someone else in our team carry all her gears from the beginning till the end, and she was completely unabashed to tell the world that she is awesome. I was cold and tired at the point, my self-restraint was threatening to give. I really wanted to slap her right there.

When the support staff finally arrived, I was clinically hypothermic. And I still had to make decisions about what to unload and what gears to pack with me for the night. That wasn't easy. I think I tried to pack too much clothes, but it turned out to be a good decision, I needed most of the garments I brought with me (4 layers of pants including fleece pants and dry suit bottom, 4 layers of tops, extra quick-dry shirts to change out of, and 3 fleece hats, gloves, scarfs, two space blankets, and a balaclava.)

Ma On Shan was torturously, dangerously cold. As I was hiking up, another team near me was discussing where to stop and put a bandaid on a blister. They were debating because it's too cold and windy to do it where we were, but then there really isn't a good place to do it within 10 miles of that hill.

Near the top, I saw 3 young men, one of them lying on the ground, taking off his clothes, the other two young men tending to him, possibly dealing with an injury. When you live in a crowded city like Hong Kong, your first instinct is to ignore anything out of ordinary so as not to get in the face of your neighbors. The great thing about mountain climbing and sea going, is that you really have to override that instinct, be prepared to ask for help, and be prepared to help others. I asked them if they needed helps, they hesitated for a bit, and told me they were fine. I then told them I had a first aid kit and an extra space blanket, and asked them if they were sure they didn't need anything. They told me they've got everything they needed, including an exposure bag, so I decided to move on.

I didn't even bother to stop and think about waiting for my team when I got to the top of Ma On Shan, it was just too darn cold. But then I heard a series of screams in the dark, cold night, and that was eerie.

I soon found out why people were screaming though. As I walked towards the ridge and turned a corner, the strong wind that tried to blow me into the rock face suddenly decided to blow me off course down the hill, I got quite a fright, but managed to stay on the trail. As we reached the ridge, the wind got stronger and ever more threatening. A stranger commented that "you're lucky you've got such a huge, heavy backpack, otherwise you would have been blown off the hill." Many had to walk crouched down, with both of their walking sticks pressed against their left (Sai Kung side) to stay on the trail. I pretended I was kayaking and leaned into the wind and walked 45 degrees into the wind (it was starboard beam wind,) it was a new experience, I still staggered constantly and involuntarily to my port side, but in the end, I managed to get through the ridge.

I only had my quick dry T and bike shorts on at the time, the wind was so bitterly cold and strong, I really wished I could have put my jacket on, but the wind was so vicious, I didn't thought it possible for me to pull anything out of my backpack without losing them. So I endured the nerve-wrecking ridge in bitter cold and pressed on with hardly enough clothes on.

As soon as I made it to a slightly more sheltered area, I put on my jacket and called Paul to warn him about the condition at the ridge and advised him to put on any extra clothes and have all his gears secure before proceeding. I don't think I convinced him though, sometimes you just have to be there to know how bad it really is.

When we finally made it down to the bottom of the hill, my discomfort override my "shyness" and I decided to ask any stranger for help. My runny nose was killing me and I didn't pack any tissue paper! I randomly chose a group in the dark, and we connected right away. I didn't realize one of their members was a foreigner at first, because it was that dark. So I just chatted with them in Chinese, we joked about the wind condition up on the ridge, I blew my nose, I was about to move on when I heard the local men giving instructions to their fourth member who has been keeping quiet the whole time, and they spoke in English.

Turns out the 4th member was an American, and I felt embarrassed and guilty that I completely snubbed him and spoke with the rest of his team in Cantonese. We started walking together, and to make up for my earlier rudeness, I started speaking to him in English.

His nick name's JJ, he's an American working in Tokyo, but associated with the HKUST, which was why he now walks with a team of 3 locals. I thought it was a strange combination at first.

We got on really well, we walked comfortably at around the same pace, we were both faster than the rest of our teams so we each had to deal with the waiting time with our own strategies, we both lived and worked in Japan, naturally, we just couldn't stop talking. Soon, we walked so fast we couldn't see the rest of his team, but we had a good time chatting never the less. I was starting to feel lonely and forlorn by that time because I left my team so far behind. So it's nice to walk with someone in the same predicament for a change. And he really is an interesting character, he also did trailwalker in Japan, and I was awed by it.

JJ and I reached CP 4 together, I made a beeline to the massage station while JJ waited at the check point tent for his team. I was sad to leave a kindred spirit but I really didn't have it in my willpower to resist the temptation of a good massage at that point.

And the massage was heavenly. JJ and I both admit to being certifiable masochists, but somehow, I still think I only inflict this kind of pain on myself to heighten the pleasures in life. No massage can possibly feel that good if your body weren't so thoroughly abused.

But they had a 5 minutes cap at the massage station, and like all good things in life, it came to an end. I went back up to the check point to get a hot drink, and I drank like a fish, and changed out of my wet clothes, and was very glad I brought enough layers of extra clothes. JJ was there and we started chatting again, we both caught the verbal-diarrhea bug, I'm sure.

His team came before mine, so JJ left and I was left alone to nurse the hot drinks. I drank so much, I had to pee twice between CP4 and Tate's Cairn. (And I usually don't have to pee at all when I hike.)

I somehow managed to get lost on Tate's and had a little detour, so Paul was already at Jat's Incline when I arrived. It's nice to have someone waiting for a change. We found Kwong and Fin, our support staff. We had hot food and drinks, but it was really way too cold and windy there. The hot substances did nothing to alleviate the environmental effects, and my hypothermia got worse.

By the time they were ready to leave Jat's Incline, I was dangerously hypothermic, felt sluggish, slow, had very poor fine motor control, was sleepy, felt a little sick about the food I just had, and couldn't help wondering how I got there and why was I doing this to myself.

I told the rest of my team to leave without me, I will catch up if I can. Kwong and his son also decided to join us for stage 5 and 6, it's nice to have some new blood injected, they weren't fast but they were full of energy, which helped to keep our morale in good working order.

I took my time to repack my gears, took on ever more clothes, and slowly tried to reboot the machineries in my body. I tried to run to catch up, which caused me to overheat, so I had to stop to take off my 4 layers of extra clothes and accessories, repack again, and then start running yet again. Oh, and I had to pee for the third time.

I finally caught up at the noodles shop, Kuen was lining up for the toilet, I didn't want to spill my secret -- that I pulled down my pants in the middle of an open area and just hosed down the city. The scenery was great.

So I started climbing up Lion Rock. I was surprised that I was going uphill faster and faster as we progressed. My quads and my hamstrings were loving it, the world is my playground, my endurance was my limit, and that night, I felt I had none. I left my team behind and flew past many teams until I walked into a very friendly woman walking alone in the dark. That very friendly woman was my comrade Carol the Keen.

It's just like old time again :)

And it made me smile :)

We walked together through Lion Rock, until her team caught up with us at Beacon Hill. Paul also caught up by that point.

I was going to take a ritualized break, there is a really nice look out point that we always stop at during practice. Carol saw what I was doing and came to join me at the lookout, but Paul walked by and told me he's just going to keep going, feeling obligated to comply, I left Carol and my heart behind, and pushed on.

Which was silly. We ended up at the radio transmitting station waiting in the bitter cold wind for ages. Both Paul and I got ridiculously cold. I piled every wool blanket on top of myself and I was still shivering violently. The thick pile of blankets were jerking visibly, I'm surprised none of the medics felt concerned, because I had this silly idea that I looked like I was seizing.

We finally were ready to move on. I saw Carol as I left the check point, which surprised me, because she was all alone! Where's her team? I was too cold to be articulate at the time anyway, so I just said hello and moved on.

Paul started to pick up speed en route to Stage 6, I tried to follow suit, but found my my knees start to hurt when I run down the steps. So I walked at a comfortable pace and tried to avoid the steps whenever possible. When I made it down to Tai Po Road, I was surprised to see Kuen there (Kwong and his son were taking care of Yuki, so Kuen could finally walk at his own pace for a change.) Happily, it's not too cold at the bottom of Beacon Hill, I did put on all my layers of clothes but found myself somewhat comfortable. I tried to stretch a little, but was in too much pain to really push myself.

When Yuki arrived at last, we continue to walk down Tai Po Road towards Kam Shan Country Park. Fin was waiting in her car to deliver a can of hot coffee to Yuki, I drank a bit of hot soup left over from our meal earlier, and was just too happy to be sheltered in a warm car. The monster inside me flared up when Yuki decided to leave the car door open and let the cold wind in. Did she came from the barn? Has she absolutely no concern for others? She was out of ear shot and I couldn't hold it any longer, I let a few mild words of criticisms escape my lips, and to my surprise, Paul seemed to concur. Paul tries to be a gentleman and puts up with her, but it's good to know he has enough sanity to be angered by her complete lack of self awareness and disregards for others. A lot of foreigners comment that Hong Kong women are selfish, spoiled, and utterly uncivil, airy headed, vain, and have this ridiculous sense of entitlement to be treated like princesses by every male acquaintances. I used to get angry every time I hear that kind of racist comments, only now do I realize their description of a typical Hong Kong woman (Kong - Lui) fits Yuki to the last fiber. I was disgusted. Turns out these foreigners were right. Thanks Yuki for proving that, I learn something new every day.

Stage 6 was relatively painless. I soon found out my body no longer objects to climbing, be it steps or inclines, and no matter how steep or long. It only seem to object big steps going down hill, and those are far and few in betweens on Stage 6.

I reached CP6 alone again, I thought Paul was ahead, I saw him walking past me as I stopped to take off my extra layers of clothes and assumed he was still in front, turns out he wasn't. I got cold at the check point waiting and decided to go get some hot drinks at the station 100 meters from the check point. I met a group of volunteers waiting to support their teams, we started chatting, they gave me the very typical load down on how meaningful this is and what a great job I'm doing etc, I was feeling a little cynical about it by that time, but I appreciated their gestures never the less. More to the point, they had a gas stove, which they turned on for me, which I am eternally thankful for.

A voice in the back of my head said I should go back to the check point to wait for my team, but the evil creature in me says I've waited for them enough and it won't kill them to wait for me for a change. They seemed mildly annoyed when I finally decided to show up and I felt completely unabashed and entitled. About time they find out what it's like to have to wait in this kind of weather. I mean, I don't blame them if they really couldn't go any faster, but Yuki kept us waiting because she had to take her time to wear her make up ...

So we got out of the check point and moved on to the reservoir. Tony was waiting for us with the ground sheets and camp mats and chairs all set up, that was so thoughtful of him, he really is a darling. I changed out of my wet clothes and piled on the layers before I started digging into the rice and soup that he cooked for us. Shortly afterwards, Paul arrived, we were both eating happily together when Yuki came down as well. She called out Paul's name, which I heard, but there must be at least 3 billions males in Hong Kong by the name of Paul, and I'm not sure if Paul heard her anyway, but he didn't respond, which is reasonable enough. But Yuki gave him the third degree for not catering to her when she called, threw down the walking sticks with quite a bit of malice (Paul loaned her one of the sticks and asked her to be careful with it because you can no longer find replacement parts of this stick, and apparently this stick has some sort of sentimental values to Paul.) I simply marveled at the malice of Yuki, Paul pretended not to see or hear her outburst and carried on to eat, Tony catered to an ashen faced Yuki, Kuen was so grateful for the hot food that he seemed oblivious to Yuki's display as well. I was rather amused.

The angelic, blameless Tony offered to clean up after us as we prepared to move on, so we started walking up Needles Hill after a very pleasant meal. True to our strategy, Paul and I walked on ahead and left an emotional Yuki for Kuen to deal with. (Kuen is awesome, he really is. His patience and endurance seems bottomless.) Not surprisingly, and perhaps very annoyingly, we got radioed as we started to climb. Kuen informed us that Yuki wants to go home and demanded us to come down for a briefing. Paul was visibly annoyed, we both turned around and walked back to meet up with Yuki.

Paul called Tony to stay put and give Yuki a ride, he was fully prepared to let her go. I don't think any of us really expected Yuki to finish, she simply hadn't trained enough. And I guess Paul has done Trailwalker enough times to know a lost cause when he sees one. I haven't got that degree of compassion though. On one hand, I was definitely glad to see the back of Yuki and privately hoped that I'll never have the misfortune to have to see her again. On the other hand, I felt I have put up with her immaturity long enough and it's about time I do something to make her see some sense. She wanted to go home, she didn't need to. Her excuse was that she was tired. I had to choke down a derisive sneer, did she really think she alone was tired at that point or did she think her tiredness was special and somehow more unbearable than ours?

I hopped onto the rail of the crossover at the end of the reservoir, and looked down upon a very sad, crouching, curled up form of a dispirited Yuki. I didn't know what she was going through, but suddenly my malice and anger at her was dissolved.

Right there, I knew without a doubt, she isn't the confident young woman that she tries so hard to pretend to be. She really is vain, and blissfully unaware of her short comings, and utterly arrogant and irresponsible. But of all the sorry things she is, she isn't malicious. She blunders, she isn't strong, she is clueless, but she has her heart in the right place, and tries harder than the rest of us all together. And I can't say the same thing about myself. I was angry that the rest of our team and support staff condoned her bad behaviors, I was mad that they permitted her to go on with her delusion and cater to her like a princess. But they didn't do that because they were unintelligent, or lack self respects or sense of righteousness, they did it because they saw before I did, the feeble little girl struggling to find her own strengths and values.

Right there I know, Yuki isn't great, but she has the potential to be. She doesn't believe in any of the arrogant things she says about herself, but one day, I have no doubt, she will grow into a strong, caring woman who is self aware, has confidence, and respectable.

I had a decision to make -- say the malicious things that I've been bursting to say in her face, send her off and move on at a more satisfactory speed with less frozen waiting time, or talk her into staying. Either way was easy, at her mental state, she was easy to manipulate.

And I decided to do the team thing -- the right thing -- and talked her into staying. We've helped her to push it this far already, it doesn't make sense to drop her now.

I'm not arrogant enough to think my words had the impact to mobilize her despite her pains, but I gave her the chance to choose to stay with us when the rest of the team was prepared to let her go.

When she finally stood up and declared she will continue to walk with us, I was suddenly so proud of her, I felt very emotional. Only at that point did I realize, even though I did get very annoyed at her actions, I didn't hate her, I was simply bested by my own exhaustion and allowed my malice to flare out of control.

So we pushed on. I tried to be sensitive and stopped at intervals to wait for the rest of my team. The sun began to rise at that point, the whole experience felt surreal. I couldn't believe the degree of suffering I had consented to put myself through (and 95.1746% of that suffering was sleep deprivation...) and the only way to make it bearable is to cheer the others on. Teams passed me as I sat down and waited. We said hello and even joked a little. At some point, I actually fell asleep while waiting, thankfully Yuki woke me up when she saw me. I asked where Paul was and Yuki said he was ahead, so I shot up the hill at full speed like an arrow and didn't make any more stops, only to find out, as we made it to the water station, that Yuki tricked me and Paul was behind them all along! I waited and waited and waited at the waterstation until I got very cold, finally they showed up and we had a laugh, I got owned.

I struggled to stay awake throughout Grassy Hill, my eyelids grew heavy and I had to use my fingers to pry them open. Some of the roads were well paved and I tried to walk with my eyes closed, but then I actually lose track of what I was doing and allowed my water bottle to fall from my hand and roll down the hill. I woke up with a start, the surprise shocked me awake momentarily, but then my eyelids grew heavy again, the process recycled itself, and I continued to struggle.

I noticed Paul started walking very fast and finally, he went ahead of me. A voice in my head said hey let's pick up the pace, but I simply hadn't got the concentration for it. Surprisingly my legs weren't that tired, but I can't seem to find the mental power to coordinate my body. My legs suddenly seemed very stupid making small shuffling steps up the hill, I felt as though I was hanging around out of my body looking at this familiar stranger of a zombie making her slow progress up the hill.

My body seemed to wake up and fall back asleep on its own accord, in cycles that's completely out of my control. When I was "awake," my entire system felt rested, my legs weren't sore at all and I felt fresh, like I just started this hike a few minutes ago and my gears are all primed and ready to go. Now and then a wave of sleepiness hits me hard though, and I struggled to remember what I was doing.

Turns out there was no massage station at the end of Stage 7 though, they changed it to stage 8. I was mildly annoyed but simply hadn't got the emotional energy to get upset anymore. There, I met Kenneth, a god-sent. I was too sleepy to be sociable at the time, and wasn't too interested when Paul introduced us. But it turns out, he was my personal angel and savior for the day.

I walked up Tai Mo Shan in high spirit, I can't remember how the trail goes as I've only walked it once before and in the dark, but there were plenty of people for me to follow. I sped past a lot of other walkers again on the uphill, until I ran into JJ again. Not that I believe in god, but I felt I needed to thank my lucky start or providence or ... someone, to send me crutches when I needed them most. I was starting to grow drowsy again and was glad to have someone to talk to. I think I had a bit of a crush on JJ as well, because my pulse rate was raised when I walked with him and I think it has nothing to do with the hills. Anyway, together we picked up our pace again and chatted pleasantly as we go. We debated the merits of walking sticks, of hiking boots versus flip flops, of cults and religions, politics and power, masochism, banking, risks, indoctrination, free thinking, higher educations, liberal lesbians, massage, and whiskey. Who needs marijuana when you can achieve the same result with 100km of self torture? I can't believe after staying up all night and fighting a losing battle against the torturous sleepiness, I was talking to someone about power structures and hierarchy in buddhism.

And even as we chat, JJ constantly stopped to check on his team mate. One of them has been struggling and holding everybody else back, instead of getting annoyed as I did with Yuki, JJ constantly looked for ways to help the weakest member overcome his short comings. He loaned him his walking sticks, tutored him on how to use them efficiently, stopped to make suggestions, and waited for him. I might carry myself through the ranges as well as he does, but I still have much to learn about team works.

Despite all the disappointments, I'm still feeling pretty good about one thing -- my body is now disciplined enough to take me to some pretty interesting places without any degree of distress. I remember how painful it was when I first started walking with my team, both of my legs got crams as I climbed up Tai Mo Shan. But I couldn't believe it when JJ told me we've already finished the climb and were about to start descending, I was so sure we haven't done the "horrible slopes" yet. I was rather pleased with myself.

I've said so before and I will say it again, all good things must come to an end, I left JJ and made a beeline to the physiotherapy station, with every intention to malinger to whichever degree necessary to get a massage. Not so lucky this time though, the therapist decided I needed ice pack instead of a massage, so much for our discussion on masochism, I nearly wanted to cry and was practically begging to be let off the hook. But the ice stayed on for 15 minutes and I shivered violently as they tapped my feet and knees. (apparently I've got flat foot and my patella travelled in the wrong direction.) That's probably the worst thing I allowed to happen to me in the entire race. I could be just randomly looking for bystanders to blame, but I think the tapes phucked me up royally.

Anyway, turns out Kenneth reached CP8 before I did, he caught my eyes as I got iced in the physio station and he brought me tea, such a sweet angel he is. He told me I was ahead of him most of the time, he only got past me when JJ and I stopped running down Tai Mo Shan and decided to walk instead. I was probably too swooned to notice, but he said he walked towards us and JJ scowled at him, so he backed off and left us alone. (I'm sure he was kidding, JJ wouldn't scowl!)

My team and I took our time to eat and rest, I got really cold after getting iced and begged to be allowed to stay in the car to get warm, but eventually they coaxed me into coming out to have a bit of food. By the time I joined my team, there was very little food left except for a lot of rice, Yuki tried to pass me the last piece of pork chop, but Paul said thank you and grabbed it before I could even lift my chopsticks, I was so mad!!

I got very cold again as they ate, and was keen to move on. So I was really pissed off when Yuki said she didn't fill her water bottle at the water station. We were there for ages, dawdled around doing nothing before our support team came, and she didn't fill her bottle. It seems she always manage to find reasons to hold us back whenever we are about to move on -- "oh I forget to bring a hat and my friend is bringing me one, I have to wait for that or I will be so sun burnt my mother won't recognize me."  "Oh I want to take a photo, but not here, it looks better over there.  You see, I have very high standard."  "Oh I haven't fill my water bottle."  "Oh I want to go home" ... I wanted to tell her off, I think Paul was getting close as well, because he said, "fine, we will wait for you" in a very deliberate, controlled manner, which was not missed by the rest of the group.

My troubles begun on Stage 8, felt sure it would be just like the last time I did it with Jeremy and Urs -- I thought I would just run through it and be done with it. I entered the walk at full speed up the hill, feeling on top of the world, thinking my legs were still doing okay and the hills presented no challenge at all ... until I started to jog. Somehow, I think, towards the end of a 100km hike is not the time to adjust the position of your patella. As I started jogging downhill, I gasped out in pain, but it wasn't just my knees, it seems the whole chain of tendons and ligaments and muscle conspired to hurt me in unison. From my toes to my ankles and especially up my knees, the pain was sharp, and I felt hot acid stung my eyes as I fought back tears. So I walked steadily but gingerly down and down the slopes. Happily, Kenneth caught up with me and we started talking. Which gave me an excuse to slow down, and it provided the distraction necessary to take my mind away from the pain.

So we got to the check point, we sat under a pavilion to wait for the rest of our team. JJ showed up later and we talked briefly, but then Paul showed up and tactlessly took his seat. I was a little annoyed but was too tired to argue the point. So I walked out on my team and went ahead to chat with JJ again instead.

But we had to leave before JJ's team mates turn up, I was glad to be given the chance to put MacLehose behind me, but still, I was sorry to have to set off without my friend.

As we entered the route around the reservoir, Kenneth asked Paul if we were going to run for the last bit of the trail. Paul said in the past, when team members were all committed to the team goal, they always run. But this year, it's apparent that our members are not serious about our team goal, so he sees no point in running. I was shocked and angry when he said that, even though I knew he wasn't referring to me. I've trained so hard for this event, gave up so much, postponed my NZ trip, walked through a few typhoons and walked through some extreme heat, day and night, after kayaking, before kayaking, and gym, just for this event, and Paul reckons we didn't take the team goal seriously. I felt as though he just slapped me in the face. I was so angry, I didn't want to talk. So I picked up the pace and walked on ahead, leaving Paul to lecture everyone else about team commitments.

Kenneth kept up with me for the entire Stage 10, which I am very grateful for. Kenneth has never done anything so long neither (3 stages of the MacLehose can be pretty mean for a first timer!) but he was a good sport. We talked a lot about psychology, with a strong leaning towards feminism, which is mostly my fault, but he puts up with it anyway. At some point I started abusing Yuki, and Kenneth provided a somewhat more balanced view, and that helped me dissolved some of my angers as well.

Kenneth was shocked when we started climbing, he said the old stage 10 isn't like this at all and it's nasty of them to put us through a hill after 94km of punishments. Secretly I was glad to be walking up it, it wasn't bothering me very much and I wanted to know how much more my body could take.

But it turns out the challenge wasn't on the uphill, after the mini checkpoint, we started descending, and every step brings an entirely foreign sensation of pain that shocked me to my core. It's ironic that I wasn't out of breathe when I climbed that last hill, yet I gasped audibly and soon started panting and heaving within 30 seconds of walking down those steps, I don't think I have ever had the need to continuously choose a course of action that inflict such intensive pain in my colorful life. I was in a hell of a lot of pain to the point where I cried out and teared up, yet I had to continue to choose to take another step and add to the intensity of the pain. I couldn't believe I was making those choices, I felt very abused, the world just wasn't fair to me, I shouldn't be made to dig my own grave, I shouldn't need to inflict that kind of punishments upon myself.

And soon I stopped walking. I fought hard to hold back my tears, but I lost the battle very soon. I felt so ashamed, I can't remember ever crying out of pain since adulthood. Even when I broke my collar bone, I didn't cry. I dislocated my shoulders 16 times and never ever did I cry. Even when my mother used to beat me with the evil feather duster, I would defiantly hold back tears and simply scowl at her with hot anger radiating from my every pore. Yet here I am, in front of a friend I've just met, I cried.

I tried to joke about it, to make fun of myself, to discipline myself to laugh instead of cry, but I couldn't. What started as involuntary hot tears soon cascaded into full force wailing, I heaved in pain, moaned pathetically, and pondered my options.

I decided to pull off the tapes on my knees. I experimented with just my left knee at first, initially it seemed better, so soon I pull off the tapes on my right knee as well. But within minutes, the pain quadrupled, I felt as though my knees could no longer support my weight, I had to sit down. I pressed gently to feel my patella, and I felt them quivering in waves of spasms. I started to cry freely and earnestly. I couldn't believe my legs could fail me, they've never failed before. I was handicapped, like I no longer have the option to enjoy the mountains, like the freedom to roam and go wherever I please has been taken away from me. I cried partly in pain, and mostly in self pity and shocking disbelieve.

I wouldn't believe it though. So I got up and tried to walk again. I slowed down a lot, I had to give myself time to deal with the pain with each step, soon I wasn't generating enough heat to keep my muscle warm, my body tensed up, which made the pain so much worse. Inconveniently, the sun chose to set at that moment. I suddenly remembered how I used to panic whenever the sun sets when I was out at sea. I wondered if I should be worrying, what risk am I placing myself at by pushing on, should I be stubborn and keep trying, or should I be sensible and call for help?

Luckily, I had Kenneth with me. I was embarrassed that I cried in front of him, I don't think it's wrong to cry, but crying in front of others puts social pressures on them to do something, and I've always thought that's a bit coercive and tactless. He didn't seem too disturbed though, he really is such a darling, he loaned me his walking stick, carried my backpack, and told me he would give me a piggy ride down the hill if I really can't go on. He also applied a bit of massage lotion on my knees that's supposed to take away the pain, I don't think it worked, but appreciated the gesture never the less.

I don't think there was anything he did for me physically that really helped me, with the small exception of loaning me the walking stick. But having him there, knowing I wasn't alone, knowing if I really messed myself up, if I pushed myself over my limit, there will still be someone there to help me, I felt save enough to give it a go. I knew I was in for a long and painful journey, but I also knew I had a fighting chance of surviving it. So I threw cautions into the wind and pushed on.

And as I walked, I felt ashamed that I was so hard on Yuki. I had no idea what she had to deal with. She started complaining of pain very early in the journey, probably along stage 4, and the whole time I rolled my eyes and judged her harshly, thinking she wasn't trying hard enough, thinking she just wants to be pampered.

I experimented with different gaits, I found walking backwards down hill didn't hurt, and walking down slopes hurts less than steps, but while I negotiated the steps backward satisfactorily, I tend to trip when I walk backward down the dirt trails. So I walked backward down the steps as much as I could. I felt ridiculous, a voice in my head said there is no way I'm going to finish the remaining 6 kilometers backwards. But then I remembered I had surgery on my right shoulder one semester in college, at first I thought I would never be able to finish my homework, but in the end I wrote all my final exams and went through several presentations with my left hand. I still remember how Dr. Poulton marveled at my left hand control...

Anyway, I digress. I was amused to think that I could potentially get very good at walking backward. Happily, I didn't have to for long. Soon, I made it down to the road, and there weren't a lot of steps left. We were still going downhill, but the pain was becoming bearable. I was also finding postures that puts less pressures on my patella.

Once I exited into the road, I knew exactly where I was, I've hiked that bit before and I knew what was ahead, and I felt much braver, knowing what to expect. I picked up my pace again, the last 400 meters seem to go on forever, but I was really relieved when I finally made it to the finishing line.

I had to wait for well over an hour for the rest of my team to show up. Kenneth bought me hot drinks and snacks and catered to me tirelessly. Paul called support staff to help Yuki so that Kuen and he can come down to join me at the finishing line. More waiting again.

Finally we got a call from the support team that they were approaching the 300 meters mark, and so we changed back into our wet team t-shirt to meet up with her. But somehow it took her a very long time to come down, we called again and again to find out what happened to her, turns out she had to put on her make up before she comes down! Even Paul and Kuen complained of getting too cold while waiting for her in our wet clothes, somehow everyone else thought that was cute of her, I just don't get it.

But we did it. My obligations fulfilled, if not with grace, at least satisfactorily, and I am now allowed to fly to New Zealand with nothing to hold me back.

* * * While I still find a lot of Yuki's habits infuriating, I'm really, honestly growing quite fond of her in a twisted way. It's like being a teacher and having a particularly naughty, attention-seeking student that causes all your hair to turn white and then fall out. If you manage to tame her, you will never be able to stop loving her like your own child.

Trailwalker -- afterthoughts

Trailwalker Hong Kong 2009 is over, this is not strictly related to kayaking, but since I've been posting my trailwalker training logs here, I might as well write in this blog.

My team set a target of 30 hours way back in the summer, which we failed miserably.  That's pretty much how I feel - miserable, like a failure.

I've worked pretty hard to prepare for it.  I started out being the slowest member in our team, and I had serious doubts at the time that I could ever walk the entire MacLehose trail in one go.   But I had agreed to work towards the 30 hours target with my team, so I trained as much as I could, as hard as I could, without seriously injuring myself.  I would say I probably hiked 60km/week on average since the summer, Carol and I even walked though some extremely hot weather and a couple of typhoons.  I've walked when I was sick and I've walked when I was injured.  I've also walked when I was exhausted from some extremely long kayaking journeys.  I also had to miss some kayak training in order to practice with my team.

Despite all my efforts and determinations, my team failed.  It's not making sense, but I feel embarrassed, ashamed, and angry about it.  I really don't like it when I commit to something, do everything within my power to make it happen, and in the end, fail.

My initial reaction is to blame Yuki.  We all know she hasn't trained enough for the event, she missed a lot of our practice hikes and didn't bother to do any training on her own.  Somehow, in her delusional little world, she still thinks she is ready and can do it, in the mean time, both Paul and I worried that she hasn't trained enough and the event would be too much for her to handle.

Obviously I still think she is largely responsible for our failure.  Somehow I don't think she ever took our team target seriously.  During one of our practice hikes (stage 1 - 4), I overheard Yuki telling Paul that "I haven't been doing much practice at all, but I'm still doing pretty good!"  She tells anyone who would listen that she is full of confidence and believes she can "win the race."  If you haven't figured this out already, I'm feeling so contemptuous about this big head hers, I want to slap her.  False confidence isn't confidence, it's called delusion.  

But I'm slowly warming up to the idea that this is a team deal.  I'm so used to doing one man shows, I've completely forgotten the cliche that a chain is only as strong as its weakest link.  I knew Yuki wasn't doing her part all along, Paul and I both knew Yuki was our weakest link, but my strategy was to "just make sure *I* can do the walk."

So I shouldn't act surprised when we fail to meet team target.

Because I haven't worked with my team.  I worked on my own.

Thinking back, we should have encouraged Yuki to come out and train more -- encouragement being an euphemized term for coercion, of course.  If I want it badly enough, I should be prepared to confront or support my fellow teammates to do what's necessary.  Alternatively, we could have changed our team goal to accommodate Yuki's limitation.  But to keep silent when we all knew Yuki was heading in for failure, in itself, is pretty malicious. 

In July, I confessed to Dennis my doubts and concerns about my ability to finish the trail.  Dennis had encouraged me to consider signing out of the team if my honest assessment is that I will not be ready.  That wasn't what I had wanted to hear, but I needed to hear it.  I wonder if it had been easy for Dennis to be impolite and say such thing to me, because it had been very difficult for me to say something to that effect to Yuki.

On stage 7, Yuki said that she was too tired, that she might not be able to keep going for much longer, and so has decided to quit and go home at that point.  

At that point, I had a bit of internal struggle of my own.  On one hand I wanted to say something to hurt her, I already knew by that time that we weren't going to meet our 30 hours goal, and I desperately wanted to punish her for it.  But then I remembered I've said myself that our top priority is to finish together, and lashing out at Yuki now wasn't going to help us reach that goal.  So instead, I told her what I thought she needed to hear.

"Yuki, we all see how you've been struggling.  We know you're hurting and you're tired.  It's your body and your decision.  If you really can't go on, if you want to go home, it's your call.  No one is going to say you didn't try hard enough because you've decided to quit now.  

But don't quit because you're afraid you might not be able to finish in the end.  If you don't give yourself a chance and try, you will never find out whether you have what it takes to do it."

It's what I always tell myself; it's what I would have told my children if I had any; and it's the first time I've ever done anything for my team to help us reach our goal.

Suddenly I realized I didn't really hate Yuki; I'm not perfect either, and the team didn't let me down, and I still have much to learn about team works, and I'm also guilty of arrogance in my own way.

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Then I came home to read the news online, ferries tipped over killing hundreds, coal mines exploded killing dozens, little children are being prostituted and beaten by their parents, and I'm worried about finishing a hundred kilometer walk 5 hours behind schedule.  Somehow, I think, I have my life made.