Day Eight

This is the final race day. Race placement information is not available when we arrive early in the morning, but we eventually learn that Team SOAR has qualified for the first (the fastest) division. We also learn that SOAR ’s arch rival, Pink Phoenix, is also in first division and has faster cumulative time on the first day.

The women of Team SOAR set their jaws and vow to beat Pink Phoenix.

SOAR ’s first race is very close. Six boats race at a time, and only the top three boats will move to the semifinals.

Team SOAR is in a tough struggle for first for most of the race, but ends up taking third. Team SOAR is the only U.S. Team to make the semifinals.
Before the semifinal races are run the boats are filled with volunteer paddlers and women who are too sick to paddle. They do a demonstration race and then all the boats are maneuvered side by side in the middle of the raceway and the women cast out flower petals in remembrance of those who did not survive to be at this race. It makes both Miriam and I cry. Soon she will have her tenth anniversary. We were told she would not live five years. We both feel very, very lucky.

Pink Phoenix has not made it into the semifinals. Nevertheless they congratulate and support SOAR . They get very high marks from me for sportswomenship.

At this point I suffer an ethical lapse. I am not proud of this, but I left Miriam’s side to see how the Canadian team with the wispy bit of a man did. They finished last in their first race, and were not even in first division. In other words, SOAR crushed them. I smile; I gloat. I am not proud of this.

The last race is a tough one. All the boats have good paddlers, and all the boats have finished within a few seconds of each other their prior races. Team SOAR is clearly one of the fastest three boats, but only the fastest two will go on to the finals.

Team SOAR finishes less than two seconds behind the winning boat, and a long way ahead of three of the six boats in the race, but it is not quite enough. SOAR takes third and is done for the day and the race.

It is hard to be so close and not make the finals. Team SOAR has won many, many races including the World Championships in Shanghai two years ago. It had very high hopes.

We gather up our things and go to the shuttle bus pickup spot. We hear a rumor that the race managers have stopped the shuttle buses from running to make sure everybody stays for the closing ceremonies. The closing ceremonies are a couple of hours away.

We walk to a regular bus stop and catch a bus back to our hotel. Miriam and I finally get some good news from our travel agency. The same organizational process that resulted in us not being on the list for a bus ride out to Caloundra has resulted in us not being on the list for a ride back to Brisbane. Miriam has been nagging at the travel agent most of the week without success, and we were told that a new bus listed would be posted when we got back from the final race. We have some anxiety about this because it’s Sunday, the travel agency is closed, and the race announcer has paged our travel agent several times at the race, with increasing pique at being ignored. When I first heard the first page I thought Miriam was going after her, but not. The first bus the next morning leaves at 5 a.m.; if we are on that we will have an eight hour lay over in Brisbane.

The new list is posted and our bus leaves at 11:15!

I go take a short swim in the ocean. The water temperature is pleasant temperature, but the surf, at this time at least, is too mild to allow my modest body surfing skills to catch me a wave.

We gather with our friends for dinner. We decide to walk a bit to a Thai restaurant down at the next beach. The restaurant does not have a license, but allows BYOB, so the men are all carrying baggies with bottles of assorted alcoholic beverages.

Everybody is really pooped. Once couple locks both their keys in their room, and the husband stays behind to rouse management (it’s Sunday and the office is closed), while the rest of us walk on ahead, swinging our baggies. Again we fail to look like the elegant people in travel magazines.

The restaurant is half a block down a side street, and the wife of the keyless couple wants to stay out on the street corner to flag down the key hunting husband. I take her place, she goes in, then comes out again, doubles over and puts her hands to her face. It turns out a sizeable bug (not a bird of paradise) has flown up her nose. The wife is such a lady that she can not bring herself to deliver an eviction-level snort. However, the bug is finally induced to leave, the husband arrives with keys, and we sit down to a wonderful dinner.

We do another race post mortem and everyone loudly agrees that Team SOAR has done very well, that the quality of breast cancer survivor racing has improved dramatically, and that Team SOAR is entitled to feel great: the only U.S. team in the semifinals, and less than two seconds away from being in the finals. More quietly, however, everyone acknowledges it would have been a lot more fun to win.

We walk back to the hotel. Miriam has amazing energy and starts to work on our laundry (we don’t know when we will next have easy access to a washing machine and dryer). I crash.