We last left off with our protagonist sitting in the parking lot of a Timmie's, halfway through a 12 hour drive home, having found out only moments earlier that she needed to be back in Calgary in 48 hours. But there were some complicating factors.

OK ... so, there I am, halfway home, on my way for the purpose of forerunning for the International Training Weeks in Whistler, still giddy from the recent news that I had been named to the Intercontinental Cup team, when I get the phone call from my coach. The main crux of the conversation is that there will be a media announcement held in Calgary in less than 48 hours, and that, although not critical, it would be nice if I could be there. The second piece of information of notable significance, was that the national team would not be sliding in Whistler during ITW, and so I wouldn't be able to forerun anymore.

The complicating factor: I have Dave the Head Forerunner's sled in the back of my car. A sled which needs to be in Whistler in approximately 16 hours. And so, I don't really have much of a choice but to drive on. I mean what am I going to do? "Hey Dave ... I'm not coming home anymore. So, uhh, yeah ... your sled is at the Timmie's in Revelstoke. Good luck."

In the end, it's not really anyone's fault, it was just an unpredictable set of circumstances. And I could think of worse problems to have ...

So I head out of Revelstoke around dinner time, planning to blast straight through to Squamish and still be home with enough time to get a few hours rest.

God Almighty Himself, however, apparently had very different plans. The next 16 hours could be thus summarized:

THAT is every conceivable weather phenomena known to man being encountered at 2 a.m. on the Coquihalla Highway from Kamloops through to Hope.

THAT is rain, freezing rain, slush, freezing slush, hail, sleet, fog, black ice, white ice, snow, blowing snow, hyperdrive snow, and, although I can't be entirely certain, I would consider also adding typhoon, earthquake, hurricane and the apocalypse to that list.

THAT is 200 kilometers of a divided, three-lane, 110 kph highway being traveled at 40 clicks for six hours, in the left lane, looking directly out the driver side window in order to use the cement barriers as a guide for road direction.

THAT is something that officially does not rank at the top of my Life's Pleasant Moments list.

And if you think I might be exaggerating, even just a little bit, see for yourself. The CBC doesn't lie ... mostly.

So ... 1125 km, 19 hours, 2771 available iPod songs, two and a half hours of sleep, one white mocha latte, one Timmie's English toffee, a really crappy energy drink, and my very first large double double later, I roll into Whistler, 15 minutes late, 1125 km away from where I want to be, standing at the bottom of a track I am no longer allowed to slide down.

On the up side, Dave the Head Forerunner was very happy to see me ...

To be continued in Part IV: The Short Trip Back