A Day in Rock City: Swiss Canoe Races

Much as I didn't come to Illinois expecting to rollerblade bewigged and half-naked in the Rock City Day parade, I didn't go to the Swiss canoe races with the intention of competing: I was just going to sit on the bleachers and take pictures. But Niffer-bur's team that needed a fourth, and apparently I can't say no to potentially humiliating physical feats--at least not when I'm in the Midwest. So I joined 0ne of the two all-female teams (there were about seven teams overall).

When my team's name was called, I attempted to climb off the bleachers and fell... and fell... and fell. My feet were perhaps four feet off the ground when I started falling, but I managed to hit every possible bleacher component on the way down. When I finally stopped falling I sensed that all conversation in that section of the bleachers had stopped, and that all eyes were on me.

"I'm ok," I said to no one in particular. In fact the bruises on my right leg stretch from mid-calf to groin, and there's a bruise on my left thigh that's about five square inches. (This was particularly ironic, given that I hadn't fallen once during my roller blading escapades.) But I got up and got into my fireman's boots behind Niffer-bur.

Swiss canoing, I learned that day, doesn't actually involve any water. Rather, four pairs of fireman's boots are nailed to two parallel boards, and four team members attempt to move in a synchronized way to move forward, around a cone, and back to the finish line.

It's truly a cold day in hell when I triumph in any sporting event, so it was shocking when our team beat the only other all-female team to the finish line. Particularly since our team was composed of 75 percent Rock City Day virgins. When we crossed the finish line we stopped, cheered, and promptly fell over.