Canada. Wasn’t I just here? We are camped out at the Canadian Olympic Training Bunkhouse. Close to the venue and very cheap which is very key at this point in the game.

Saturday was race day and the women ran first in smooth, fast conditions. Sue got caught in a crash that also took out top contender Allison Sydor early in the race. She managed to fight back a few spots but by then her main competition for the women’s Olympic slot, Mary M, had opened a gap. Mary fought her way to second place on the second lap and never slid back. Gun Rita led the race, as she has every World Cup she’s competed in this year. I was beside myself with excitement seeing Mary hold on to second as she came across the finish line. She was more happy than I’ve ever seen her and having her family there must have been the right fuel for the day. Second place put her slightly ahead of Sue for the points chase but one more race - the Marathon World Championships in Austria, would determine who takes the women’s spot. I leave in 3 days to film it.

Then came the mens race. It started off under sunny, warm skies but the forecast was for a storm to roll through. No one told me it was going to be Biblical. As they came around on the second lap, the clouds rolled in and the winds picked up. On the third lap all hell broke loose. I was on the far end of the course when Ken radioed that it was pouring on him. He was headed to the room to get the rain gear we had left behind. He sounded kind of worried and I figured he was exaggerating about the rain. In 2 minutes I was running for my life. Carrying an aluminum tripod and a heavy camera pack over a barren hill in heavy lightning and blinding rain is fun. So much fun I decided to stop and film when I got to the top. Seemed like the best angle for the shot I wanted so why not, right? I had my raincoat for the camera but I was drenched. Then it started hailing and the temperature dropped like a rock. I couldn’t stop shaking and had a hard time keeping the camera steady. I slowly made my way back towards the finish line through the streams that minutes before were paths. The toughest men kept plowing through the mud and axel-deep puddles as the field dropped from over 90 riders to a mere 31. Only those who had the skill and determination to finish kept it together.

Think about it for a second. Steering your bike down a slick, rutted 200ft hillside as lightning blasts a tree 200 yards from the metal frame you’re perched on. Think about pedaling through driving winds, horizontal rain and stinging hail wearing a pair of spandex shorts and a polyester jersey. I thought for sure I’d get zapped or they’d call the race or it would start snowing and I’d freeze in place. Luckily none happened.

On the sixth of seven laps, Jeremiah BIshop fought to the front of the Americans in his strongest form all year. He knew he had to finish in the top 10 as well as many places ahead of Todd Wells in order to win the remaining spot (JHK was going to lock up the first by just finishing and he was only a few spots behind Bishop). Filipe came in first, having recovered over 2 minutes on the leader in the awful conditions to take the win. He crossed the finish line, got off his bike and stumbled into the arms of a race official. Shortly after, Bishop charged across the finish line, in a full sprint, finishing ninth - his best World Cup ever. But it wasn’t enough. Todd came in right behind him after passing over 20 riders to keep Bishop from getting too far away. Both of them were fried. Both were so covered in mud it blackened their teeth. But only one of them was going to the Olympics.

Friday
6.25
It’s late and I’m on a plane that is following the sunset headed to Calgary. It was a last minute decision based on the way things have unfolded since Quebec. I did not want to travel more. It’s hard enough that I leave this Wednesday for Europe again but to fly to Calgary and back in a matter of hours will surely wear me out. I’m having a hard time admitting to myself that I got hurt in the car crash. I have no interest in getting caught up in hospital bills and lawyers. But my neck is troublesome and my left arm keeps going numb. Sitting on this plane for 8 hours makes it worse.

I am stessing out, thinking about what I need to shoot when the sh!t hits the fan this weekend. Because of the order of selection criteria, it looks as tho the mens slots will be determined. Ken and I realized yesterday that the amount of footage we still need is too much for one person. I’m stoked to have 2 cameras rolling but it will still be a struggle to get it all. My main concern is the finish line. How to capture the thrill of 6 months of chasing something. Or the utter defeat of not making the Olympic team. Emotions will be through the roof. And it’s less than 24 hours away.

Reality. For most of America that means working in some sort of office or store. Maybe you hit the gym on the way home. Weekends come and go. Then it’s Monday again. Funny what working in that environment does to you. You plan your day around multiple breaks where you mentally slack off. Check e-mail. Purchase coffee. When you do eventually get into work mode you think about your next break. Routine inevitably sets in and before you know it, years have passed and you’re sitting at the same cube, in front of the same computer with the same co-workers who are more excited about the new e-mail upgrade than than they were over their last raise. You don’t want to be left out of the office chatter so you tune into ‘Must-See TV’ and blow off the gym. Soon you spend more time watching other’s reality than living your own. It’s easy to do and our society promotes it. Problem is, TV and Reality don’t belong in the same sentence. So imagine for a second, pushing every strand of willpower and muscle fiber in your body to finish a race. It’s almost impossible for most people to relate to.

I’m not independently wealthy and need to pay for this film somehow so I work in an office. I know the routine. I hear about the TV shows and I listen. Big Brother, Survivor, The Bachelor. These are reality shows? There’s an entire country bored enough to watch a guy pick who he’s going to date and send teary-eyed losers home. And it makes me laugh because for the last six months I’ve watched true ‘reality’ as 4 men and 4 women have put themselves through a mental and physical hell with enough levels to make Danté impressed. If I do a good enough job, if I acquire enough footage of the struggle, this film will be something that rivals any ‘reality’ TV show. Hopefully every person that sees it will find it not only entertaining, but motivating. And if enough people buy tickets to watch it (or buy the DVD) then I can get the hell out of my office. Otherwise I’ll be there for 10 to 20 paying off my credit card bills and watching Survivor re-runs.