Alright, so let’s fast forward through the Sunday chapter and get to Monday, the big day of the first annual Dominica Treasure Trek.  It was a race to end all races.  Starting at the international dateline, we were to traverse around the globe.  The queen herself would drop the checkered flag…well, maybe not that momentous.  It started at the Kairi Fm radio station in town and would end eight miles up the western coast of island.  So still kinda momentous, right?  I mean, we like, had to show up there at totally 4:30 am in the morning and stuff.  They actually awarded points for teams who managed to get there on time, which was a good call when wanting to start an organized event before sunrise in a location accustomed to running on island time. 

There were 13 teams, all made up of people from local workplaces and organizations, except for the two teams comprised of Peace Corps Volunteers.  They consisted of the BEST INDIES represented by myself, Jerome, Amanda, Tym, and Anna.  And BEACH CORPS (pffft, yeah, real original) put together by Nate, Brenden, Zac, Veronica, and Becky.

There were five challenges along the way that had to be completed as a team for points if successfully done, and the finish line had to be crossed by all members if the team was to finish and place.

There was no dramatic, definitive cap gun start to signify that the race had started.  There was a reiteration of the rules by one of the promoters, then a sort of confused stare-down between her and all the teams.  And then she gave a sort of, “well, go on, get outta here.” And thus, the race began.

No one intended to run the entire way.  But I suggested we run 5 minutes and walk 1 minute the entire way, not having trained whatsoever for the event.  “Anyone can do that indefinitely!” I said.  It turns out this is very untrue.  Running 1 minute and walking 5 minutes to recover over the course of 8 miles of asphalt was excruciating enough.

We were off to a shaky start.  You see, the Beach Corps had decided to implement tortoise-steady pacing approach to the race, meaning they didn’t intend to run AT ALL.  The hares on my team were ready to mock this brisk-walking approach as they pulled ahead of Beach Corps and tried to make their way in front of the Dominican teams.

At least, they would have, if I wasn’t walking briskly alongside the Beach Corps members.  Remember, nothing counts unless all your team members are together.  I’m kind of known for being chronically non-competitive and putting too much emphasis on trivial things like fun and self-esteem, and thus, the vulnerable link in the BEST INDIES super chain of awesomeness.

I chatted up Brenden, who I hadn’t seen in a while.  I talked to Veronica, who I hadn’t seen since the Derby party and we remarked on the sunrise.  I received backward glances from my team mates who had jogged ahead, trying to set a lead. 

 Amanda was getting annoyed that I was fraternizing with our competition.

 I already knew what she was thinking: I swear to god, if you try and sabotage our team later because we’re winning by too much…   Well, I don’t really know how she would finish that thought, I don’t really want to.

 So I just yelled, “What’s this race going to matter in 30 years?  It’s the friendships that’ll last a lifetime!”  Beach Corps agreed and Veronica put her arm around me.

 “Tym, go get him,” said Amanda,

 Tym jogged back to find me talking to Zac about how Robert Downey Jr. makes a great Iron Man.

 
-“Let’s go.”
-“Aww, but a muscle-y boy is talking to me about comic books!”
-“Now.”

 I ran with Tym as we crossed the bridge out of town and joined our team where we moved into prime position and I never looked back.  I winded myself once, trying to catch a chicken in a gutter and had to stop to catch my breath.  And another time I stopped to smell a pretty flower, but other than that, my head was back in the game.

 We were the first to reach the first station.  The task was to put together a 100 piece puzzle of teddy bears getting married and then continue the race.  The BEST INDIES were on fire.  We delegated edges, assigned colors, negotiated backgrounds, consulted box tops.  Well, by we, I mean my team mates.  How do you expect someone with no drive to win to do at a leisure activity turned into a scored event?  I really helped my team there by getting out of the way.  We were the first to finish.  There were reporters actually commentating this stuff.  I was hoping to have a mic thrust in my face so I could say, “It’s all about communication, Davidson.  Communication.  But we’d like to thank Almighty God.”

The BEST INDIES take the lead.  After each completed task, we were given a small inflated ball we had to carry safely to the finish line. 

 The Beach Corps arrived a long time later but finished the puzzle in a matter of seconds and continued on their way.  Puzzle arrangement may be slanted in American favor as all the other Dominican teams struggled visibly.  “Hurry, the white people are done, we have to catch them!” was rumored to have been remarked.  The police force had a team who took about an hour to complete the cardboard puzzle.  Tym (whose home was invaded twice this year and had to do his own investigative work) said dryly and hilariously, “How can they expect to solve crimes if they can’t even solve a jigsaw puzzle?” 

The next station was a trivia bombardment.  The answers were kangaroo, soccer, Brazil, your name, and Selena.  That last one was my time to shine.

In between the stations, it was a cross-country course along the Caribbean sea, across rivers, along palm tree forests, and mountain cliffs, through villages, past heavy construction equipment, and under wide, expansive sky.

 We got to the third station.  We were still leaders of the pack but paranoid that Beach Corps was going to speed walk around the corner any given second.  Anyway, we were met by white, long thin fiberglass tubes are placed on wooden cross planks.  Finally!  Almost two years in the Caribbean and not a single opportunity for me to limbo had arisen until this point.

 Amanda, Anna, and I bent over backwards like pros.  Jerome and Tym, gangly, tall and with agonizing knee pain had to attempt it repeatedly.  Jesus, let me just say that it’s good the judges weren’t scoring points on looking pretty.  It was not fun to watch the back-breaking struggle.  Especially poor Tym.  A trooper, that guy.  Very proud of him. 

 Although, I have to come clean here.  It happened.  We all saw it happen.  And we never spoke of it.  To this day.  Tym really was trying very hard.  He fell down, once on his back and then again on his front and always knocking the bar down.  I seriously thought he was going to break in thirds at the knees.  He finally cleared the bar without falling or making it fall, but not without lifting it slightly with his schnozze.  The judges let us have it, even though the rules said WITHOUT TOUCHING the limbo stick.  I didn’t have the heart to make Tym do it again and if I refused the points, it would look like I was sabotaging us like I do during Cranium.  So we just went on.  But technically, we don’t deserve our perfect score.  There, I said it.  I can sleep now.

 Anyway, whenever we saw a white umbrella advertising the sponsoring cell phone company that marked the next challenge station, no matter how tired and sore we felt, we ran at full sprint in excitement of reaching our next challenge.  At this one, we were met by a table with pasties in blue Styrofoam bowls with glasses of water next to them. 

 Anyone who’s ever read Arthurian legends or any other childhood fantasy stories or questing myths, knows that when you’re on a physical journey with a group of companions, especially a journey full of tasks and tests, you never just grab and eat food or drink something that just appears unexpectedly and invitingly.  But like Abu the monkey, picking up a big ruby and making the Cave of Wonders collapse on Aladdin’s head, Amanda was all,

“Oooh, a snack!  I’m famished!”  and reached out to grab the raisin Danish.

 “Amanda, wait!” I yelled.  Organizers from the radio station rushed forward, put their hands out, and themselves yelled, “No!”  We mustn’t touch the buns with our hands at any point.  Or we would be disqualified.   Phew, talk about your close calls.

 The coordinator explained, “You will eat these buns doggy-style.” 
Ahem. 
Meaning, with our hands behind our backs, the challenge would not completed until all team members had each finished their own bun.  There was no rush, we had plenty of time.  The bun was tasty.  Amanda and I offered advice to the team: I said, “Hey, it’s easier if you press the air out of it with your face!”  Amanda said, “Just spit water on it and slurp it down!”  Both suggestions were gross but hers worked best.  Score another victory for the BEST INDIES!

 We ran.  We walked.  We were full of morale, blistered feet and ruined knees.  We won first place.  The last challenge was an anti-climactic carrying of a bag of sand to the finish line. 

 It was great. The organizers made a beach the end of the race.  So we could continue jogging right into the water to cool off.  Everyone hung out until all teams crossed the finish line and Beach Corps even came in third place.  We won a schnazzy trophy, 1500 dollars, and a spa day.  Yay.