Yesterday, I did my 11th or 12th Columbia Triathlon. I am not sure which one. I did my first one in 2004 or 2005… I don’t remember. I suck at quitting… Once I start something, I tend to keep going with it…
As usual, my training was less then ideal. Life has been so very busy. But, not doing it, is never an option. Don’t get me wrong. I have been working out. I just hadn’t swam in nearly a year (and that was a one time thing last Summer). I hadn’t done a combination swim / bike or bike / run which are called “bricks” which are somewhat important if you are doing a tri. Net, I have been doing sit ups and running.
Anyway, on Saturday, I took my father, who is in town to drop off my bike and check in.
I figured he would be able to get a little sense of this event that I have done for over a decade. He always says he wants to know more about my life.
We get there, and as always the conversation is about him. I love him. And, I know that he loves me. And, it has become crystal clear to me what the heart of our issue has always been regarding communication… the world completely revolves around him… his needs… his story… his concerns… his thoughts about the way lives should be.
I’m good with it. Just observing.
Anyway, we get into the registration and he sees the distances.
“You can’t do this!” he says.
“It’s a mile swim, 40 km bike and then 10 km run. That’s too far. You are old now. You have to think about your family.”
I couldn’t help but smile inside on so many ironies of that statement.
“I am well insured.” I said, as a quick remark I often use with him when we get to these points in the conversation.
“It’s not all about money. You have a young wife. You have 3 boys. You can’t take these chances.” He responds very seriously.
I smile at the comment about my wife… she’s the same age as I am (ok – 3 months younger)… but now I am starting to get angry.
“Let it go.” I say to myself.
And, the conversation turns back to him and what credit cards he does have or doesn’t have in his wallet… “Lord & Taylor… I can’t find it.” I let him drift off into his own little world.
We have a nice time dropping off the bike. Looking at the lake. And getting back home.
That night as I say goodnight to him, I tell him that I will see him tomorrow after the race about 11 am.
For some reason he misunderstands me and thinks that I am not going to do the full race. I allow him to believe he is right.
“Good” he says “that race is too much for you… I’m glad you have come to your senses.”
Love you dad, I think to myself. But, WTF do you know about me???
So, the next morning, more relaxed than ever I wait for the swim to start. I start the swim and feel unusually strong.
“MINDSET” I tell myself. “You haven’t trained… but you have been training your mind… USE THAT!”
About 400 yards into the swim, occasional thoughts pop into my head… “This distance is too far for you”… “FU dad” I think to myself.
Besides the fact that my goggles are too tight and my head hurts like hell as a result of it, or the fact that my wet suit seems to be digging a whole into the back of my neck… I am feeling fairly strong in the water. Passing some people (though probably not many). The boueys seem to come up to me a little faster than I am expecting… always a good sign.
I finish the swim and get on my bike. Feeling good to be out of the water. I start getting passed by the faster ladies who started the swim after me.
No I am not faster than many “girls” I have to tell myself. But I do my best to catch up, and succeed at passing many of them. I know it's wrong, and I feel like a teenager, but it hurts more to get passed by girls than boys... sorry!
Ok - the issue was they were women AND they were 50+... Come on now... I have some ego left.
There are some fast women out there! They put me in my place. And, they made me race faster.
I seldom get passed on hills. In fact, I pass many people on hills, which I always take pride in…
Gravity likes me a lot… which is advantage going down but not up ;-)
I finish the bike strong. I have no idea what my time is, but I really don’t care too much.
All I can do is go as fast as I can, and that is what I am trying to do.
I start the run, and again, pass a fair number of people. I definitely pass more people on the run than on any other leg of the tri.
Don’t get me wrong. I get passed a fair amount… specially it feels on the bike.
But not on the run.
I don’t measure the tri’s by my time… but my relative effort…
So many people seem to walk on the run’s tough hills. I never walk, I remind myself. I run all the way through.
My legs are feeling a bit tired. It’s been really hot and humid.
I am sweating more than usual, which takes a toll on me on a multi hour exercise. My body can’t replenish the fluids. I am holding on. I am truly motoring past person after person.
The hills seem more and more painful.
I get to my buddy’s house at the top of one of the hills about mile 3.5 and noone’s out. I didn’t expect their to be. Noone is running this race this year except me. In year’s past we have had so many friends running. This is the place where I see the people I know. Where I get a final emotional push.
This is where my boys have been in year’s past. They have run up this hill with me.
I salute the house of my cap’n as I go by.
I’m good…
My leg’s hurt…
These last 3 miles are going to hurt.
I remember my buddy Bobby P, who pushed me 2 years ago to my personal best. I trained more that year… “More” being a very relative term. I remember thinking “it has to hurt” to hit the time I want.
It has to hurt more.
I am hurting a lot as I hit mile 4.
I feel myself slowing down, and am fighting not to.
I feel strong, but just OUT OF GAS.
Keep going.
I look down at my arms… “DEE” and “ANA”, my sisters name staring back at me from my forearms.
“Ok girls… this is where I need you to kick in…”
“I got the muscles that worked… “ I think to myself. And, this is a large part of the reason that I do this race… to remind myself never to take them for granted… to celebrate my strength and my ability to swim, and bike and run… farther and faster than most… I don’t take my ability to push my muscles for granted…
I smile to myself at the straws that I am pulling.
I get to mile 5. And, the last BIG hill is ahead of me… everyone is walking…
Everyone but me… I am running and hurting…
1 more mile…
I’ve GOT THIS!!!
And, my legs are screaming.
My stomach hurts.
Afghani food is not a good pre-race meal, and I ate a lot of it last night at the wedding. “forget about that” I remind myself.
I feel like I am going to throw up.
It’s not the food, I realize but I am somewhat dehydrated and spent.
I pick up the pace…
“This race is too long for you”… I think to myself… “FU Dad” I think to myself… lovingly, but angry.
“I am so much more than my father will ever know.” I think to myself. “I am so much stronger, so much wiser, so much more inspired than he will ever understand…”
Then I think to myself… my goal with my boys is that someday, when I am old or gone, as they talk to themselves inside their head… the thought I want them to have… is “you were right Dad, I am so much more than I ever imagined… you were right Dad… I have amazingness in me…”
That’s the thoughts I want my children to have… because they are capable of so much more than I can even imagine.
Even as I write this… my head starts to spin…
You can do it….
And, all of a sudden,
I STOPPED
and start to walk.
Oh my goodness that feels good… I feel sick… I think to myself.
I’ve never done this before.
I have NOTHING left.
The fumes are gone from the tank.
I truly don’t think I can even walk this final half mile.
I don’t feel good.
I walked about 10 paces or so…
Convinced that there is NOTHING left in me.
I am alone here. I will finish the race.
My buds will understand.
And, I hear this voice from behind me… yelling…
“DON’T YOU STOP NOW YELLOW SHIRT!!!!”
“DON’T YOU WALK NOW!
I have been chasing you for the past 2 hours
And I am NOT going to pass you WALKING!”
It was a woman’s voice.
I could think about a couple of women I had seen trailing me on the bike that we had exchanged pleasantries… but I hadn’t seen any on the run.
I started to run.
Half a mile…
Not sure I have it in me.
And, I ran the straight away across the end of the lake that I had swam nearly 3 hours before.
And, I turned for the final hill…
I just might make it…
Up the final hill…
I am TIRED!!!!!
I can’t believe I made it this last half mile, I think to myself.
I had NOTHING left a few minutes ago.
An inspired mind is an amazing thing…
And, all it takes is a random voice coming through the trees…
“YOU ARE NOT STOPPING NOW YELLOW SHIRT…”
Down the final stretch not feeling that normal spurt of energy I typically feel as I come around into the final sprint…
But my legs are pumping… and another race is ending…
And, I come across the finish line, bend over and feel an amazing amount of gratitude for so many things…
But, mainly for the fact that the pain is over.
“I am stronger than you’ll ever know…” I think about my father as I am bent over in pain.
I look up at the finish line and see this woman running with a smile on her face.
I don’t remember ever seeing her during the race.
I give her a hug.
She says to me,
“YOU NEVER KNOW WHO YOU ARE INSPIRING, Yellow Shirt…
You have kept me going for hours...
I kept telling myself… he’s not walking and I’m not either.
YOU NEVER KNOW WHO YOU ARE INSPIRING, Yellow Shirt.”
I looked at her
and smiled…
“NOR do YOU,
my dear lady…
NOR do you…”
I wore my medal proudly home.
I hung it up in my closet with my other 10 or so medals.
Proud and grateful.
I got in the tub and rubbed my sisters names off my forearms.
I never got to tell my father about the tie that this race has for me with my sisters.
He wouldn’t get it. It’s just too different from anything he’s ever known or felt.
I am my own man now. I get that.
Proud and grateful…
Thank you Black Shirted lady…
For your words and your smile.
You never know who you are inspiring…
Yours in harmony,
Yellow Shirt