The Third Annual Canadian Cheese-Rolling Championships took place last Saturday, August 14, at Whistler - a ski and mountain-bike resort town a hundred-and-some km north of Vancouver. The event is run in conjunction with the Crankworx mountain-bike festival, which draws thousands of spectators to the Boneyard at the foot of Whistler Mountain to watch top riders from all over the world ride really fast, pull spectacular jumps and stunts, and win $ and kudos. Bike, beer, and energy-drink manufacturers show off their wares and dish out promotional material, and a grand old time is had by all (except maybe the people who have to clean up the post-party mess each morning).
The cheese-rolling racing - and associated cheese-appreciation seminars, tasting sessions, and kids' activities - takes place on Whister's other mountain, Blackcomb, near the ski- and bike-jump training areas.
The race itself is run on a fenced-off course down a steep slope which is grass except for where it's rocks, and is basically an exercise in not incurring serious/life-threatening/speed-reducing falls while running downhill 
at higher velocities than your 
championship rivals in pursuit of a 5kg wheel of cheese. Apparently it can reach speeds of up to 80km/h. Certainly the cheese reached the bottom well in advance of the racers in every instance where it was thrown straight*.
Highlights of the six men's heats included:
- The Duck. Finished dead last in Heat 1, then was abandoned with no car keys/clothing/money. Must have been close to heat exhaustion in that suit even without the walk up the hill and the run/fall/run back down
- Inflatable-Torso-Rings Guy. Admitted during post-Heat 6 victory interview to having stolen the rings from the kids' play area at the base of the chairlift. Dislocated shoulder impressively in the final.
- The Oiled-Up Speedos Guys. Well-lubed but not slick enough to make it past the heats.
- Purple Flamenco-Dress Stag-Do Guy. Won my heat. No-show in the final.
The four-and-a-half women's heats had less weirdos, and a hell of a lot less outright warfare, but were still fiercely competitive, with pointy elbows being thrown and racers trampling the bodies of their fallen rivals into the ground with abandon, if not outright relish.
I had a disappointing mid-pack finish in the heats, then Janine qualified for the womens' final with an easy second in her heat - top four in each heat went through. She was beaten across the line in her heat by a tiny Asian woman who had fallen, and bounced, and was in mid-air as she crossed the line for victory. Far from the only person who made it through to the finals in that manner - in fact the number of qualifiers who were no longer on their feet by the time they crossed the finish line probably outweighed the number who'd stayed upright til the end.
Still, "stay upright" comprised half of Janine's strategy for the final, along with "stay away from everyone," which was an essential given how precarious one's balance was once moving at pace down a hill that steep, and how many people we'd seen taken out by competitors falling in their path. I wondered initially at the wisdom of selecting the high side of the course, as it seemed to me that most victors had gone straight down the middle or run the low side, but when she ran through the 2/3 mark in third place it looked like it'd been a decent choice.
When the second-placed runner fell hard on her face Janine's line choice looked even better.
When the leader did the likewise, but bounced and flew across the line, I didn't know what to think. Had Lovely Wife managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat? Or was she pipped at the post by a flying rival?
And then the Cheese Master said: Victory!
And we all did a little dance.
The media scrum was intense. The victory bouquet was made of cheese. There were interviews and there were photo-opportunities. There were handshakes and hugs from rivals and celebrity cheese-rollers alike. And eventually, Canada's newest National Champion and I wandered off down the hill to the Reaper, 5kg wheel of cracked-pepper deliciousness in hand and 2 ski-season passes to Whistler/Blackcomb waiting for us at the end of some red tape. And some red wine.
* = Of the two inaccurately-released cheeses, one made it through the protective barrier and into the crowd, but high enough up the slope that it hadn't yet reached terminal velocity. Both were grabbed by well-meaning but misguided spectators and heaved down the course after the racers, causing huge amounts of consternation and some fairly amusing cheese-avoidance manoeuvres from those in danger of being struck by the thing
Awesome!
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