For Better, For Worse

My husband Rich is a strong, two-time Hawaii Ironman finisher, and a professional fireman. He's been trained to carry heavy, limp people out of burning buildings. I'm a petite marathoner.

We figure this makes us the perfect couple for the 1st Annual North American Wife Carrying Championship. Hey, we could even win. We just have to practice a little. 

Which explains why I'm hanging upside down on Rich's back, with my legs wrapped over his shoulders and around his neck. We're out in the yard sharpening our technique. And our teenage kids don't like it one bit.

"Dad, you shouldn't be carrying mom around like that in public," whines Brooke, 17. Her 15-year-old brother Mark is even more mortified. "The neighbors are gonna call the cops on you two!" he yells.

There are other ways for a husband to carry his wife, such as the "across-the-threshold" style with her comfortably nestled in his arms. But by studying the information at www.wifecarrying.com, we soon realize that these other methods don't work well in races.

The Web site offers all the details. We could try the basic "piggy-back" technique. We could try the "fireman's carry" that Rich learned decades ago. But neither of these is going to produce a winning effort.

No, the only path to victory is the "Estonian carry." This was proven decisively at the 1999 World Wife Carrying Championship, when couples from Estonia took both first and second place. As you may have already guessed, they used the Estonian carry.

In general, the rules that govern wife-carrying championships (WCC) are much clearer than, say, the rules that govern wife-husband relationships. Yet, we're confused by just one small matter: the definition of "wife."

Rich and I have never had a problem with this word before. In fact, our definition of wife has served us well through 20 years of marriage. I'm married to him; I'm his wife. He's married to me; he's my husband. As I said, it's been working for us.

For some inexplicable reason, the organizers of the North American and World WCCs have another definition of wife. Here it is: any woman, large or small, as long as she's 17 years old. 

The first-ever WCC was held in 1991 in Sonkajarvi, Finland, a town of 6,000. This place is also known for its beer-barrel-rolling competition, but not for much else. That's why the locals get so excited about wife-carrying. Last year's World Championship in Sonkajarvi attracted 25 couples from 3 countries, and drew more than 7,000 spectators. Before you know it, the elders of Sonkajarvi will probably be mounting a bid for the Olympic Games.

Wife-carrying has deep historical roots in the Sonkajarvi area. In the late 1800s, the infamous Ronkainen the Robber captained a criminal band that terrorized the north woods. They happened to make a very good living, so scores of young men wanted to join up. Naturally enough, Ronkainen decided to set high qualification standards. Sort of like a Harvard for hoodlums.

The big test: one's ability to run a difficult, up-and-down course with a heavy sack slung over the shoulders. This skill paid off in more ways than just admission to Ronkainen's troop. It also proved an excellent way to bag a woman and make her your wife.

Given the colorful history of wife-carrying and its marketing success in Sonkajarvi, it was only a matter of time before some enterprising U.S. burg capitalized on the competition. Bethel, Maine, struck first.

Bethel already hosted its Mollyockett Day in mid-July to honor the Pequawket Indian woman famed for befriending European settlers in the mid-1700s. Mollyockett Day included a swell parade, a lot of brownies sold at bake sales, and a frog-jumping contest. But sadly, these activities never attracted much attention from the folks at FOX TV.

Enter Dr. John Mason, a local dentist, marathoner, and civic do-gooder who had been walking around for several years with a small newspaper clipping in his wallet about a wife-carrying race in Finland. When Paula Wheeler was hired last year to head the Mollyockett Day committee, Dr. Mason pulled it out to show her.

Wheeler did the rest. Which is how Rich and I learned about the race last June, early enough to start practicing for the July 15 event. It's also why last year's first North American WCC was covered by-you betcha-FOX TV. Not to mention ABC, the BBC, Good Morning America, Inside Edition, and Live with Regis. 

But enough of that. By now you must be wondering why the Estonian carry is so darn superior. Simple. It gives the man free use of his arms. And he needs them. Did you ever try to run without your arms? Or swim? Or climb a pile of logs?

Every WCC follows the classic distance of 253.3 meters. It includes a waist-deep, 10-yard-long water pit to plow through, two log obstacles to climb over, and a tricky stretch of deep sand to slog across. The man is allowed to wear a belt, but that's the only piece of gear permitted. Every time any part of the woman's body touches the ground, the couple receives a 15-second penalty. 

Until a day or two before last year's race, Paula Wheeler figured that only about 20 or so couples would enter. But her publicity efforts took hold, and the phone started ringing. By the time Rich and I arrived at the Sunday River Ski Resort on race day, 48 couples had registered, and 2,500 spectators were there to watch. 

A WCC race pits together two couples at a time. The two couples with the fastest first-round times then compete head-to-head in the final. Winner take all. Since Rich and I had drawn the number 10 starting position, we could observe nine other couples go first. 

This psyched us up. We're both pretty competitive, and we both wanted to perform well. When we saw one guy lining up barefoot, we figured our chances were improving. The next guy was smoking a cigarette. Excellent. Then we watched couples somersault helplessly into the water pit, fall over the logs, and wallow frantically in the sand.

Even though we knew this was all for fun, we couldn't wait to start. Did I mention we're competitive?

When our turn came, we strode to the line and assumed our position. I hung upside down on Rich's back, my legs wrapped around his neck and my arms around his waist. A classically rendered Estonian carry, if I do say so myself. We were ready to roll.

Especially compared with the couple next to us. They obviously hadn't done their homework. In fact, they never quite managed to assume any effective position at all. The woman kept sliding off her partner's back. Finally the starter said to us: "Okay, you've waited long enough-you might as well get going."

We didn't mind having the course to ourselves, but we could have used the competition. A little extra adrenaline never hurts, after all. Rich stormed through the water, scrambled over the logs, and surged to the finish. Me? I felt as if I were bumping along on an amusement-park ride, and became a little dizzy.

Our WCC was over before we realized, and easier than we'd imagined. At least we hadn't collapsed with laughter the way we had in all our practice sessions. Rich said he could have kept running to the top of the nearby ski slope. "This was much more a sprint than an endurance contest," he observed, a little disappointed. We finished in 1 minute, 44 seconds, but we still didn't make the top two.

Twenty minutes later, we watched the final, a close race until John Suitor and Gail Guy pulled away at the end to finish in 1:15.7. That put them 7 seconds ahead of the runner-ups. Suitor, a 3:25 marathoner, stands 6 feet 5 inches and weighs 225 pounds. He plowed through the water pit, and simply side-stepped over the log hurdles. "I have a 36-inch inseam," he explained later.

You may have noticed that Suitor and his "wife" don't share the same last name. Granted, this happens often these days. But in this case, she wasn't actually his wife. 

Oh, he tried to recruit his wife, and even coaxed her into one practice session. That was enough. "She said forget it," he chuckled. "I guess she figured that giving birth a few months earlier was enough trauma for the year."

But Suitor's wife was a good sport. She recruited her best friend Gail Guy to do the heavy riding. And the rest is history. 

Suitor is a full 8 inches taller than Rich, but we aren't discouraged. We're thinking of going back to Bethel for the 2nd Annual North American WCC this July 21. Rich thinks we can do better the second time around, and he says he still wants me to be his partner.

As Rich's wife, as opposed to his  "wife," I think this is pretty sweet. After all, according to the WCC rules, he could be out recruiting some slender 17-year-old. 

So Rich is doing speedwork and strength training. And we're perfecting our Estonian carry. We're runners, so we know how to shave off a few seconds here and there. We're practicing hard in the yard again.

She Runs to Reclaim Her Identity After Assault.