I am writing this from Tempe Arizona where in 3 days the 15th running of Ironman Arizona will commence.
Our flight into the Valley of the Sun took us directly over the Ironman course. I could see the majority of the bike course as I played out in my mind what it would be like on this corner or that, on this stretch of road or that, what it would be like to be out on Beeline suffering in the wind with 2500 others on a day where many dreams will come true. Although signed up for this race because of injury I will be a DNS (Did not start).
I also saw the only major hill on the run course with it's decent back to the Lake. I knew from past experience what it's like to descend that hill in the final miles of the marathon, the final miles of a day never to be forgotten by so many.
I was met with anxiety, I was met with a longing to be out there and I was met with remorse. These were selfish things as I focused inward on what this trip will mean for me. Yes I took a minute to feel this selfish angst in an effort to get past it. I need to move past it by race day. These feelings need to be put to bed so I can begin the process of giving back to everyone involved.
As the Tri season comes to a close it's time to work with my sponsors about next year. When I opened the package sent by Base Performance a sponsor I am proud to say I have been working with for going on my third year, I have used Base products for years, part of the package is that you have to volunteer at a charity event. It can be one of the many phenomenal charities Base supports or one of your favorite local charities, but you must give back. You must make an attempt to grow the sport.
I have always been a believer in giving back to the Tri community, be it mentoring a newbie, volunteering as a bike course director at a local kids tri or volunteering at a local or national race. The point being is to give back to and grow a community that continues to give so much to me.
As I worked through the information packet for the Base Ambassador program I was unaware of how much the last tag line of the outline of the program struck me. That was until I flew over the course at Ironman Arizona.
Old people plant small trees, middle aged people plant large ones. As I have gone through the process of "rehabilitating" our back yard I have always chosen to put in larger plants not all of them trees but the theory applies. As we all know larger "trees" cost more then smaller ones, but I didn't care. Thinking "I'm to old to plant small trees".
Middle aged people tend to plant large trees. By the time a small tree has matured our leaves may be falling as thoughts begin to shifting to life under the roots of the tree.
So why do old people plant small trees? Why do old people go through the effort to plant trees at all you may ask.
The obvious answer may be wrong. The obvious answer is old trees are to costly to someone on a fixed retirement income and frankly the physical nature of a large tree is too heavy.
Big trees are also too large for a 50-year old who believes there can never be enough trees in my life but that one back injury is sufficient.
So why do old people plant thin, young tress? The answer lies in the fact that when you ask people of age what they want for their future you are not asking what they want for themselves, they will be elsewhere in the future. You are asking if what they want is for us. You are asking what they long for on our behalf. And that's why old people plant small trees.
Middle-aged or in this case a 50 year old plant tress for purely selfish reasons, for themselves. I tend to plant trees that are large enough so I can enjoy the products the tree provides. So I can enjoy the fruits of my labor.
Old people plant trees for others, for generations of others. It doesn't matter how small the tree is, someday it will produce the intended result. There is no deadline on trees planted by old people.
So if I have begun a quest for immortality, not unlike children and grandchildren for most, should my trees be getting smaller? Would it be pleasing to know that the trees I plant will survive me? Long after my seasons have past, my trees will be living, growing and each spring when the season is new it will be showing it's blossoms to people yet unborn.
It pleases me to know that for years after I have toddled off this beautiful earth that children will climb it's branches in a right of passage as they to spread their own winds. One day young lovers may cuddle up in the shade of my trees or old people may sit sipping cocktails on a long summer's eve underneath a small tree now grown large.
That's why I plant trees. That's why old people plant small trees and that's why when asked what kind of trees do I want for those to follow, I wish for a tree the world has never know.
So this weekend although I wished selfishly I were racing, I will do my best to give back. There will be plenty of opportunity for me to do my part, all be it a very small part. By giving to this large event my hope can only be that others will be inspired not only by the efforts of the athletes but also by this world class event as a whole.
Triathlon is a very self centered sport. It's the nature of the sport itself. This weekend I may have many moments that I selfishly wish I were racing but I hope to move past this in a effort to "plant a tree". What size tree is yet to be determined but if even one tree is planted, one seed is sown then my back yard will be better for it for generations to come.
So go forward, plant your trees. It's up to you to decide how small or large they will be.
That little word, those four little letters, for some they can represents a lifetime achievement. For me it's an opportunity to stand in centerfield at the Cathedral that is Yankee Stadium during the seventh game of the World Series, it's my Tour de France, it's my chance to play in the Superbowl. For those in the Ironman community, for the athletes, their families, for their friends, it also represents dedication. A dedication only those who "have some skin in the game" could ever understand. A dedication that comes from a lifestyle choice. A lifestyle that continues to be lived by many who participate at the distance but to have the opportunity to step onto the hollowed ground of Kona, the pinicale of the sport, this is something revered by all.
At the risk of sounding like a Chinese fortune cookie, the fulfillment lies in the journey, not the destination. Enclosed is a mix, a mix of experiences when gathered leads to more then a destination, they constitute a journey. A journey that would eventually lead to Kona and to that little white line on Ali'i Drive, a place where dreams come true. The following is a disjoined group of experiences. Disjointed in the fact that this is how my season has gone and it's O.K. We as the athlete who made up this years addition of the Ironman World Championship all stepped into the blue of the Pacific Ocean with a story or a package if you will. This package contained what each athlete would be able to give on this day. Their stories for the most part already written, it was now time for the final chapter to play out. Ultimately I came to this race as an observer. I knew from Bootsy's past experiences you don't "race" this venue the first time, you lean how to race it - if you're lucky. As you will see I came to experience the day, to stand inside the ropes and to give my very best on this day whatever that would bring.
When I got word July 7th, 2015 that I would be granted a slot to Kona through the Legacy Program I was thrilled, I was elated, I was terrified. I have never chased the qualifying terms of the Legacy Program where in order to qualify one must complete 12 full Ironman branded races. Bootsy and I have continued to race long, again it's a lifestyle and we enjoy the benefits this lifestyle provides.
If there had come a time when I no longer wanted to pursue full Ironman racing even if my number completed had grown to 10, 11 or even 12, I knew I would move away from the distance and still be comfortable with my decision, a decision not to chase 12 or more with the soul purpose of applying for qualification. The enormity of the training and racing needs to fit or it just wouldn't be worth it for me, not even for the opportunity to stand on the stage that decides who's best in the world. The task would just be to large without a 100 percent commitment from myself and from all those around me.
Additional terms of qualification are that you must have completed a full distance Ironman branded race the two years prior to the qualification year and also be signed up for a full during the same calendar year. Which I obviously had done but not without challenges.
Bootsy and I have been blessed with multiple years of more then one full distance Ironman start line. As a matter of fact she has one calendar year where she raced 5 full distance Ironman races. Granted one of those races were Kona but that's a lot to ask of an Age Group athlete who also has a full time job and tries to maintain some semblance of a personal life.
Last year I wasn't interested in multiple full distance races or I only felt compelled to sign up for one, Ironman Coeur d'Alene. IMCDA is our hometown course and first love so I was happy to be back racing on a course that rewards her competitors with a finish on Sherman Avenue, the best finish in all the world outside of Kona itself, in my opinion.
IMCDA met us with what would be the hottest race day temps of any North American race ever staged. It was awful and my race didn't go as planned which left me walking the entire marathon and out on course for 16:23:35. It was a long day for sure but my completing the race, my soldiering on under less then ideal conditions was for one reason and one reason only - it was to complete IMCDA. And to be able to complete it in conditions that are now legendary, well that was icing on the cake. I only realized later if I would have elected to drop out of the race for any one of a multitude of reasons, to DNF, it would have effected my ability to apply for qualification to Kona. It just never crossed my mind that day, but in the end I'm obviously glad I did finish and now for more then one reason.
There's something hypnotic about the climate in Kona; everyday it's sunny and 80 degrees, everyday there are gentle trade winds to take the edge off the humidity, everyday... but at Hawi the winds pick up. The winds come from the northeast, from somewhere in the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. As they travel toward the unprotected chain of islands sitting vulnerable in the huge expanse of water, they pick up power, and speed, and force, finally crashing into the scattered bits of land. These strong trade winds funnel through the major channels between the islands at speeds 5-20 knots faster than the speeds over the open ocean. But the winds do more than whip the sea into a frenzy, they stir the blood and tear at the emotions, thrusting even temperate men into destinies they will never forget. I've always felt drawn to the lands edge to watch the winds come in, as if I were somehow... part of the drama.
May 6th of this year I tweaked my back, a lingering injury. Six week later I had returned to regular training and a full volume on a path that would eventually lead to Kona and her start line.
"The labrum is a piece of fibrocartilage (rubbery tissue) attached to the rim of the shoulder socket that helps keep the ball of the joint in place. When this cartilage is torn, it is called a labral tear. Labral tears may result from injury, or sometimes as part of the aging process."
July 3rd Bootsy and I were spending the holiday weekend at a family cabin on the shores of Priest Lake, ID. It was a recovery week as she had completed Ironman Coeur d'Alene 70.3 the weekend prior. A race I was signed up for but elected to drop out of only because I wasn't sure my back was 100 percent ready for a 70.3 race effort.
Because it was a recovery week Bootsy and I brought our mountain bikes as Priest Lake provides many pristine trails and access roads for riding. A decent on one of these access or logging roads saw me falling off. It was a slow speed crash but not without injury. Initally I thought only my ego had been bruised but I would soon realize it was a bit more. I was left with a broken hand and what is believed to be a labral tear in both shoulders. Not good!
The shoulders haven't been imaged but all the symptoms point to torn labrum and we certainly have treated them as so. Under advise of one of my medical professionals we would wait until after the race to have them imaged. My Doctor understood that I was racing Kona regardless of the injury and I would do what ever it took to get to the start line to the best of my ability. As he stated "It's ONLY a 17 hour race. We should be able to control the symptoms of the injury for a mere 17 hours." Thanks Doc.
As a Legacy athlete in Kona I get it, this is my one and only chance to race. Because of this I wanted to come to the islands earlier then we had the past two times Bootsy raced here. I wanted the opportunity to experience it all so we flew in Monday to get settled in and build up bikes before the official activities of the week began. This would also allow a few more days to acclimate. Hey I need all the help I can get.
When it came time for professional help with my shoulders I choose Dr. P.Z. Pearce. I choose him for more then one reason, I have a past history with him and he is an endurance athlete who has raced in Kona. I was confident that he would understand where I was with the injury and would cut through most of the preliminary "stuff" because after a single key word he would fully understand what we were up against. So after answering a few questions about the injury itself I looked him straight in the face and uttered that one single word - "Kona". The appointment took on a completely different tone from that moment forward. I didn't need to explain that I would be racing no matter what or what October 8th and the 17 hours I would be allotted to complete the Ironman World Championship meant. He already knew so we moved forward to formulate a game plan to get me there. The main emphasis would be P/T in an effort to get back to a level of training that would get me through what we both understood would be a very long race day. I immediately called B&B Physical Therapy to speak with Dr. Mike Lauffer another endurance athlete who "gets it".
As I sat in my car outside of P.Z.'s on the phone with Mikey I took a moment to read the script that Dr. Pearce had written for P/T, it was for thirty visits. The magnitude of the injury began to to hit me. Thirty is a huge number of visits in the short window of time before Kona. I began to wonder - Can this be done? Is my race for all intents and purposes, over?
Being in the aero position on a tri bike is the most efficient position and puts the weight of the body on the skeletal structure, taking it away from being solely supported by the muscular structures. One issue of the aero position is any jarring from the road runs up the skeletal structure of the arms into the shoulders. The muscle asked to support the shoulder when in the aero position is for the most part the rotator cuff. When the rotator cuff begins to fatigue the labrum is asked to support the shoulder. With a labral tear in both shoulders this creates discomfort. To alleviate or reduce the discomfort I would be forced to sit up, this putting me in far less efficient position on the bike.
The purpose of the physical therapy would be to strengthen the rotator cuffs and the entire mechanics of my upper back as well as my core. Mike at B&B put me through a complete regiment of exercises designed to do just this. I was surprised how weak these areas in my back were but Mike assured me the weakness was do primarily to the trauma of the injury. Mike expected them to respond quickly but I worried it was my 50 years on this earth that we would have to work across or in other words they were this weak from the life I have lead and to get to where we needed to be before we even began to entertain the idea of getting in the pool would be monumental.
The Parade of Nations would be our first official activity in Kona. It is organized, all be it loosely. We lined up by nation behind the King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel to stage the parade. The atmosphere is relaxed and very low key. It was an honor to represent my country and to do it with Bootsy by my side, well this was more then I could have ever asked or imagined. As we walked I gave a high five to any outstretched hand I saw, mostly children. This was my first opportunity to look into the eyes of the people who had come to Kona to witness the race and into the wide eyed children as they look upon me as an athlete, an athlete competing in the Ironman World Championship. A pretty defining moment I will admit.
Physical therapy never goes as scripted, right? It's a fluid process that is slow and arduous. A labral tear can be a very deceptive injury. The labrum is designed to keep a very unstable shoulder joint in place. When torn the ball of the joint can slip out or move. Trust me it's obvious when this happens, your body will let you know. When the shoulder is in place and the labrum is riding as designed it's relatively pain free but there are some simple arm motions that allow the shoulder to drop out. As the arm is lifted up and forward from a resting position there is a point where the rotator cuff disengages and the labrum is asked to stabilized the shoulder. It's this motion that can cause my shoulder to drop out. With about 5 weeks to go until the race one of these basic movements caused my left shoulder to fall out and was all fired up. Because of this I was unable to train for a full week while Mike worked to get it to calm down. I couldn't even run, the one discipline that usually is unaffected. To be honest the thought of dropping out of the race was entertained during this week, never spoken of but entertained.
Mike worked his magic eventually getting it to calm down but he offered more then physical support, he also talked me down from the ledge more then once. He made it very clear this was a mere setback and yes it would keep me out of the pool for some additional time but not to worry, we would get to the swimming when the time came.
The best or only way really, to train for iron distance racing is with consistency. Day in and day out getting the job done even if the intensity of some of the workouts aren't perfect, be consistent. I wasn't afforded this "luxury" but this was all part of my journey.
Dig Me Beach is something that must be experienced. It serves as the race swim start and also where pre race swims are staged. Bootsy and I needed to get into the water to not only get a feel for it but to continue to shake off the affects of our travel. As we stepped into the water I took a look around, it was time to engage the race, time to continue my focus on what lie ahead. I had 13 races to lean on but because of the nature of the injury I had no idea what it was going to be like out there for the 2.4 mile swim. Would the shoulders fire up right out of the gate or would my restricted swim stroke get me down the road a bit before this happened? Coming in with almost zero swim fitness, how would this affect me not only in the swim but thought the rest of my day? There were lots of unknown variables for an athlete with the experience of 13 races.
There is a local coffee company and Blue Seventy who set up a boat off the end of the pier to deliver coffee and prizes to whom ever wants to swim out to them. Our plan was to swim out grab some coffee and make our way back, I needed to keep the swim short. As I waited my turn to grab some very hot coffee the natural motion of treading water began to aggravate my left shoulder. Good to know for race day. As we made our way back to shore my right shoulder began to fire up. The right shoulder is "the good shoulder", the left shoulder housing the majority of the issues. This left me a bit shaken I will admit. I practiced floating on my back in the very buoyant salt water, something I wondered if I would have to do on race day in an attempt to rest the shoulders.
Dig Me Beach
Photo by James Richman.
(If you're going to steal photo's, steal them from this guy. James never disappoints!)
O.K. I'm old school. If I were to sprain an ankle while running I want the white athletic tape for support. Athletic taping is the process of applying tape directly to the skin in order to maintain a stable position of bones and muscles during athletic activities. I'm a strap it down kind of guy. I understand the physiology of the support the tape is designed to give. Kinesiology or Kinesio tape doesn't work this way, at all.
Dr. Brain Mather at Spokane Chiropractic & Sports Injury clinic is another health professional who played a key roll in getting me to the start line. Upon "limping" back into his office after the crash he suggested Kinesio tape. I had never looked into Kinesio tape and frankly my ignorance toward the product was mostly because I am old school. Yes I watched the summer Olympics, I saw Kinesio tape on some the athletes and I still didn't educate myself about the tape and how it works but at this point I was ready for snake oil. Not comparing the two here on any level, it's just in reference my desperation.
Brian explained the tape in terms I could grasp, not only how it works but how we would try a few different versions of taping and what each version is designed to do. Let me tell you the stuff really worked for me. My shoulders while on occasion would still slip out the recovery time or the amount of time it would take my shoulders to calm down was greatly reduced.
I would see Dr. Mathers a minimum of once a week to have the tape reapplied and on the last visit before traveling to the islands Bootsy would accompany me to video tape the application as he talked her through the process so she would be able to reapply the tape race week as needed.
Being on the pier on race morning is mesmerizing. There are no guarantees no matter how you prepare, no matter how much you want it that it will be O.K. I have always believed the best relief for worry is exercise. At 6:50 a.m., for the men, it was time to do just that.
I had no idea what to expect when it came to the swim. As Bootsy and I made our way to the water we were lucky to be able to do it together. I was comfortable with getting in near the back of the men's pack because that's exactly where I had planned to swim. I walked down the stairs to gaze out over the Pacific and engage my day, a day I had spent so many hours dreaming what this moment might be like. Before putting on my goggles and moving toward deeper water I took a moment, I looked at the masses lining the pier and entire bay, I looked at my fellow competitors, I stood there for a brief moment as a fan as I tried to soak it all in.
I had the opportunity to walk into the water with friend and 6 time Kona participant Roger Thompson. I mentioned I planned to swim in the back and he recommend I start to the left. It would be out of the traffic of the men's swim start and there is less current over there. Swimming to the left would also leave me out of the way of the women's race as they started 20 minutes behind us but I knew they were coming.
I started in the very back and because I purposely got to the start line later then most I didn't have to tread water much. When the gun fired I let the group go and looked for open water. I was not interested in contact thinking it was best to avoid a swimming "scrum" and take the longer wider route. I stayed as far left as the volunteers would let me getting chased back toward center more then once. I swam alone with the immortal words of Al Trautwig playing in my head: "You are in Hawaii! And you are in the Ironman!"
As I approached the catamaran which serves as the turning point on the far end of the swim course I hadn't been caught by the lead women. I tried to stay wide but the volunteers set a narrow course at the corners. I made one last check over my right should to be sure not to cut anyone off. As I did so I was met with a wall of pink caps, the lead women were on me and in great numbers. There couldn't have been a worse spot to get caught by the best swimmers in the women's field so I swam out into the kayaks to stay out of the way explaining to more then one volunteer that I was there in an effort to stay out of the way of the large packs for women as they moved through.
At about the 3/4 mark in the swim there was a kayak making a effort to narrow the athletes so I moved over to where I was uncomfortable with how close I was to the buoys. Immediately there was someone tapping on my feet and not just a little. It seem this athlete was doing it on purpose so I tried to move to my left to let her through but this athlete had moved up on my hip and left shoulder. I pulled my left arm under my chest and delayed for a stroke or two to let her pass when I realized it was Bootsy. She was just saying hello and that she was glad I was doing well. Knowing Bootsy was in the water can help the mind but it doesn't help the body as I was getting early signals of how my body might perform on this day. So far, so good.
As a whole the swim was uneventful and my shoulders had fatigued but with minimal discomfort. Pre race goal was to simply make the cutoff of 2:20 but I would have been thrilled with anything under 2 hours. I exited the water at 1:34 and change. It was a good start to the day.
I made my way through town on the bike then up and back on the Kuakini highway. My family had stationed themselves at the corner of the highway and Palani. It's a slow turn up Palani so I was able not only to see them but to say thank you even if they couldn't hear me. I most definitely heard them and all their kind words of support.
My parents, sister and aunt had made their way to the island to watch me race. Their support not only on race day is something I have leaned on in the past and would continue to do though out the day. When things get tough and I am in need of inspiration these are people I can draw from. On the corner of Palani stood my aunt, a person who has suffered two heart attacks, survived colon cancer and who has suffered more then one stroke but there she stood watching. She was watching people lucky enough to have dreams so she could watch those dreams come true.
At miles 20 to 25 I was having bit of a low spot with my nutrition as the negative thoughts began to creep in. I focused on the fact that it was only about 20 miles before I would make the turn to Hawi where I would be able to get out of the aero position and begin to sit up as my shoulders the were starting to ache. At this point I elected to start pain meds knowing the shoulder pain was going to be part of the rest of my day.
After making the turn up to Hawi the wind coming from my left or from the coastline would quickly shift to directly from my right or downhill toward the coastline. These winds were the stronger winds. I watched other athletes ahead of me to know when and where to expect any next large wind gusts. I also watch the fog line on the right side of the road. The fog line for the most part is cracked. The areas where the cars weren't continually driving over the line, grass would grow through the cracks. By watching the line I could tell the sections where the wind gusts were strong and continues forcing the cars over and off the line allowing the grass to grow. So grass growing in the fog line meant a heavy cross wind and I would prepare for it.
The turnaround at Hawi is followed by a mad dash back to the bottom at Kawaihea. There were spots with heavy cross winds so I would take a look around to make sure there weren't other athletes in the direct vicinity. I trust my bike handling skills but I may not trust yours.
Making the turn back onto the Queen K and the winds were kicking hard from the coast or from my right. These winds were stiff and buffeting. I did my best to stay in aero but by this point my left shoulder was pretty fired up and the buffeting of the wind put pressure on the shoulder and because of this it was pretty painful. I had been prescribed some pain relief that wouldn't affect my liver and the transfer of sodium so I had some on board but I will admit the pain was growing.
I have been lucky in the fact that I have never had to deal with chronic pain and it's affects both mentally and physically but this pain was starting to wear on me.
Being forced to sit up and out of aero position in the face of these strong winds certainly was costing me time but by this point it was the best I could do. As the pain grew so did my nausea. As my nausea grew my nutrition plan began to slip. With about 5 miles to go, my nausea finally brought me to a point where I had to pull over to relieve myself on all nutrition, nutrition I was trying to get down in preparation to head out on the marathon. Of course my pulling over happens on the finish line side of the energy lab where there were plenty of athletes in the later part of their marathon. This couldn't have happened out on the lonely stretches of the Queen K.
When running your intestines are in motion and more susceptible to stress. On the bike your intestines are pretty stable. Stable intestines and getting sick, what will the run bring? Will I be able to hold anything down? If things are starting to shutdown there would be no "gutting it out". Can I get this far and not be able to finish? I had no idea but I was fully prepared to find out.
I took my time in T-2 sipping sports drink to test my gut before the stress of the run. I always carry gummy bears on the run. They are straight sugar that can be either chewed or just sucked on. They work for me but the heat of the day had melted them into one large clump engulfing all other products contained in the zip lock. It was one big gooey mess so I elected to go to plan B. I grabbed some chews that I was unable to get down on the bike and headed out on the run.
Out of T-2 and on the run. I imagined I would walk a bit in an effort to get my gut to settle but the crowd pushes you so I ran. The pain in my shoulders had began to subside and my tummy seemed to be settling.
I was feeling pretty good for the first few miles but I could tell my stop alongside the road earlier had thrown my nutrition for a loop. I went straight to cola and sports drink as I walked the aid stations. I was running way more then I ever thought I would be just a few short miles ago. I saw Bootsy roughly halfway down Ali'i as she headed back towards town. Honestly to be able to stand there on Ali'i Drive and critique if only for a moment how our World Championship races were going, that's a moment I will cherish forever.
My family was waiting at turnaround on Ali'i. It was the first time I was able talk with them, update them. I stood chatting with them for as long as it felt natural and under the circumstances it was quite some time but I didn't care. After all this was part of the reason I came to race, to share in my day, to share in the experience and to be present with the ones who had a large part in getting me to this point in my day and in my journey.
The return to Palani went well. I was moving along fueled by cola and sports drink and surprisingly, the gut was holding up. I walked up Palani to much fan fair from the those seated along the way. Palani is steep so it gave me yet another chance to engage the fans. Although walking, it was a memorable moment.
As I returned to the Queen K this time in the dark, I was slowing and my nutrition was slipping. It's reasonably lonely running out along the Queen K, the crowds that carried me along Ali'i are nonexistent and I was getting sleepy, very sleepy. The sleepiness was a sure sign my sugar was off. I began to struggled with any volume of cola having already consumed all of my chews. I choked down a half gel every third aid station or so but I couldn't shake the sleepiness. I was walking more and more carrying a cup of cola in an effort to boost my sugar.
Turning left at the energy lab it's downhill to the coastline. The Red Bull tent is located near the far end of the course but I had never tried Red Bull in training. At this point not a lot to lose, right? I was searching for anything that would help shake the sleepiness.
The run special needs is located near the turnaround at the energy lab and I had a bag of gummy bears waiting. It was my guess that these bears met the same fate as the bears in T-2 but much to my surprise they were still in tact. I walked out of the energy lab chewing on the supply of sugar the entire way. By the time I made my way back to the Queen K the lights were coming back on and the incessant sleepiness was waning.
It's dark out on the far reaches of the Queen K, I mean really dark. I had to keep your wits about me so not to run into another competitor headed out to the energy lab or one of the many traffic cones. You can't see them and with the cloud cover there was no moonlight to help guide the way.
Right onto Palani - This is the location I had dreamt of. The location where I would allow the culmination of a dream to begin. Again Palani is steep so getting down is simple. I did stop at the last aid station for a final cup of sports drink.
Bootsy finished hours ahead of me just as we hoped she would. This meant she had a good day. She had gone back to the condo to shower and collect the group for a return to the finish line. Much to my surprise my family, my support group, my magnet that had pulled me back to the finish line from the energy lab, they were waiting on the corner at the bottom of Palani. Perfect! It was quiet and it gave me a chance to say thank you. It gave me a chance before all the craziness that is the finish on Ali'i to revel in them, to look into their eyes and to cry. It was a powerful moment.
I could have stood there in that moment forever but there comes a time to run down Ali'i Drive, to hold you head high, to slap every hand possible and to celebrate you, if only for a moment.
Bootsy said they would beat feet and be waiting for me at the finishing shoot. I told her not to worry, I wasn't about to beat feet. I was going to go slow over the final mile. I wanted to cherish every step, to soak in the moment, to live a dream. The dream didn't disappoint, every stride was met with congratulations from the crowd.
Ali'i Drive - So I guess this is where I'm supposed to try to describe the indescribable. The emotion this finish line brings is impossible to conceive. It can't be described other then to say it was everything I hoped it would be and so much more.
High fives from my family.
The darkness helps hide the tears as they stream down my face. There is nobody in front of me, there is no one behind me for as far as the eye can see. I have Ali'i Drive all to myself in the Ironman World Championship. I run on hallowed ground and it's all mine. I let the sights and sounds of Ali'i wash over me as I think about the thousands of miles I trained while no one was watching and what it's like when it feels the whole world is.
I cross the finish as Mike Rielly says those magic words - "Craig Thorsen - You are an Ironman!"
I made it just off the stage before being met by two volunteers. When volunteers ask how you're doing and you reply "I don't know" they take you straight to the med tent. I asked if I could be seated outside the tent and just collect myself for a few minutes. Soon Bootsy arrived but I was feeling like it may be a good idea to lay down, so into the tent I go. The first thing they do is weigh you so they can compare your post race weight to your pre-race weight. Because I had lost more the 5% of my body weight a doctor was called in. A quick diagnoses of nausea plus dizziness and it was time for some vitals. Low blood pressure and an elevated heart rate gets you an IV and some IV Zofran.
I was able to exit the med tent as soon as I felt well enough to take sugar by mouth. So as soon as I was able to choke down a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup they turned me loose. I just wanted to get out of there, I wanted to see my family and I wanted to complete the process which included collecting my finishers medal. The very helpful volunteers kept offering to collect the finisher products for me but I want the experience for myself. A very nice young lady drug me into the King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel where Bootsy and sister where waiting and I would finally be reunited with my family.
It is complete now. Two ends of time are neatly tied...
I realize now that they were right, this was more then just a race. Not only for myself but for all those who support me, those who got me to the start line and through race day. I have been asked, what was the best moment for me and of course it was the finish. Not the finish line itself but after, as I gathered with loved ones. So many different people now standing as one. People that have made so many sacrifices all for a single dream - my dream. We seldom get to dream. But on this single day in this single moment as I stood looking into their eyes, a group of remarkable people gave to me what I needed most. A chance for one day not only to dream, but a chance once again to believe.
Ironman races usually for me are planned as much as a year in advance. Some time ago, it was pointed out to me that it is best to make hard decisions about any future Ironman race long before the days leading up to the next Ironman itself. Otherwise it would be like “trying to balance the moral equation of being in high school and deciding if you’re ready to have sex while in the back seat with your pants off.”
Turns out, I needn’t have worried. Last year the only thing I kept thinking over and over again as I approached Ironman Couer d'Alene was, “Oh thank god I won't be racing long again this season”. Even the morning after, during our usual breakfast stop post-race, I couldn’t help but think how glad I was to have done it and how glad to once again be able to call myself an Ironman, but I was also ridiculously happy to not have to think about doing it twice. I have had seasons where I have been blessed with multiple Ironman start lines but not having more then one this season was a blessing.
It’s been said that courage is simply the accumulation of many small steps.
This year that may ring especially true because I have committed to something that’s going to take a whole new courage; completing another two Ironman season - Ironman World Championship in Kona Hawaii, October 8 and Ironman Arizona, November 22.
It’s been a lot of small, disjointed steps that have gotten me to this point in my racing journey, not all of which I’m probably aware of. But I can tell you exactly where the turning point was, that point where a notion of a season like this was born and a place in time that has, in some part, gotten me here. _
It was just another day in October. Having drinks at The Viking with a few friends. Reveling in the afterglow of an Ironman season when talk inevitably turned to Ironman and it's lifestyle. While truly enjoying the company, I looked about the setting. I could recognize the faces of patrons that stop by on a regular basis and I realized I too were one of them. A clairvoiant moment.
As we spoke about a few of the details of that years Ironman, the majority of my friends were in agreement: Doing an Ironman? Crazy! What in the this world would ever posses anyone to do such a thing? As I sat I knew I needed to move forward in my racing lifestyle, if for no other reason then the bartender knew what beer I drink without my ordering. Not good.
_
After all these years and all these races, why do I continue to sign up?
For this, I drift back to 2003 and 2004 while standing on Sherman Avenue in Coeur d' Alene Idaho. I expected to see ripped, superhuman athletes pushing themselves further than any average person could ever conceive of doing, which I did.
But I also saw so much more.
I saw average people; Butchers, Bakers and Candlestick Makers, young and old, thick and thin, all accomplishing something they might have never before dreamed of. I saw athletes cheering on athletes. Bystanders cheering on strangers, sometimes running along with an athlete they didn’t even know because he or she looked like they needed some extra support. I saw a racer, her husband walking with her, children in tow. She was bawling her eyes out because as she stated "I just can't do it and I'm letting us all down." I watched as her husband walked with her, encouraged her and gave her a gentle push only because he knew something in that moment she could no longer see. I took note of her race number so I could later check the results. She did finish - for all of them. I saw all that is good in people playing out on that one day in that one race.
Standing alone in a sea of people that had gathered on Shernman Avenue, I watch, I got chills and I cried.
Maybe it was the bigness of the Ironman, the almost-insurmountability of doing it while trying to maintain a job, or a family, or any semblance of a life. Maybe it was the dedication, not only of the athletes, but of their friends and families. The dedication evident in the signs they hold and the pride in their eyes as they recount endless stories about getting their team to the start line. Proud of the fact that they were out there on the day too, as part of a team that picked up groceries or cleaned the house or did any one of a thousand things throughout the year so their athlete could do a two hour run or a six hour bike or both. Maybe it was all of this combined that had gotten them to this exact moment.
Whatever it was, it stayed with me and the next year I found myself again standing on Sherman avenue at 11:55 PM. The last hour of any Ironman always moves me. Again, I got goosebumps. Again, I cried.
The next year, I signed up. I was one of more than 2,000 people to register for Ironman Coeur d’ Alene. This was a big undertaking. Huge.
It was my very first, very small step with many more to be taken in the coming years.
Fast forward to the hear and now -
This year has not gone according to script. I have been a bit bruised, battered and even a bit broken. A lower back niggle in early May left me pulling out of two 70.3 races. Races designed not only to test fitness but to road map progression to Kona.
Shortly after getting back to a regular training schedule a recovery ride fall on the mountain bike left with me a broken hand and issues in both shoulders. With the hand you can mark it on the calendar, 4 to 6 weeks, but the shoulders can be a different animal for sure.
And yes, in case you were wondering, I have now been banned from the mountain bike. I'm greatful that Bootsy hasn't thrown this particular bike in the lake.
So I’m terrified, nervous and constantly wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. But I’m also incredibly excited. This is going to be an adventure for me and for my entire team. A team who have all signed on and will be there in Kona to cheer me on.
"Oh, look at that! Will you look at that? Isn't that glorious? It's... it's... it's indescribably beautiful! It reminds me of the Fourth of July!"
The annual Snake River Triathlon was held this past weekend in Lewiston Idaho. Well for me, two thirds of the triathlon were held in Lewiston, the swim was here in Spokane. Because this event is so early in the season the swim is Friday night and the bike and run are Saturday morning. This prevents the participants from heading out into the March morning air wet from the swim.
I have always enjoyed this event which is put on in a low key manner by some great people. This year the event was as early as it has ever been in the race calendar and I have to wonder if this was part of the reason the number of participants were down from past years. I wanted to participate in this years event not only because I truly enjoy the event but I also wanted to lend my support in a year where the numbers were down in an effort to make sure it goes forward. When events like this go away they rarely come back.
Our local tri club, Tri-Fusion, was kind enough to host a swim so that folks here in Spokane wouldn't have to swim and stay in the LC Valley Friday night. I took advantage of this opportunity to swim locally.
Mike Collins, the director of the event, graciously emailed each participant the results of Friday night's swim. This gave me the opportunity to preview where I would line up against the others in my age group.
Saturday morning I was up early in order to make the drive to Lewiston. I arrived in time to find a good spot in transition and get a short warm up on the bike.
At this race the participants gather at the far end of transition and wait for their swim time to appear on the race clock that starts at roughly 10 a.m. We all stood around until the 5:56 mark or when the first competitors time hit the clock and off she went. Each competitor would wait until their individual swim time would come up on the clock before running through transition and getting on the bike. I knew I was down to two others in my age group as much as a minute twenty three after the swim. I watched for the other two so if the opportunity presented itself, I would know which competitors they were if I came upon them out on the bike course.
Starting 20th overall and 3rd in my age group out of T1, I would quickly settle into a rhythm and power that would move me up in the field. I was able to catch the first rider in my age group at about the mile and a half marker as I continued to look up the road for the remaining rider in my age group.
I continued to watch my power to guide my effort, wanting this race to prove as a test of my fitness. As I approached the remaining racer in my AG, I will admit I did lift my effort as I went by. There is a risk when doing this. If you go by quickly it can do one of two things. It can affect their mental psyche negatively or it can light a fire under them, motivating them. It can be a calculated risk but I needed to move past so I elected to go by at an elevated pace.
Turning at the top of the grade, I made a hard charge for the bottom now in 4th place overall. I would watch my power to make sure I was giving my best effort heading back down to transition and I wanted to put any kind of separation I could get between myself and the others in my age group.
Photo By Madi Reisenauer
Back to the bottom of Tammany Grade and out of T2 on the run. As I started the run I had the opportunity so see the trailing racer in my age group as he was heading toward T2 and I had what I thought was maybe as much as a 2 minute lead over him. If this guy was a runner 2 minutes would never be enough to hold him off so I dug in. Early in the run I made a conscious decision not to look back to see if others were closing. I wanted my effort to be guided by my race not someone else's. This race will serve as a test so I pushed my effort not knowing if I was being run down. O.K. I will admit on the final corner I did look back to see if it was going to come down to a sprint in the final 200 meters.
In the end I was able to hold off the others in my age group finishing 4th overall.
Photo By Madi Reisenauer
Photo By Madi Reisenauer
Photo By Bo Reisenauer
Photo By Bo Reisenauer
It was great racing with teammates as well as many friends, old and new. Some if not most of them bringing home some hardware. Being part of this atmosphere, part of this race was again, a true pleasure.
It's a Major Award!
"Would you look at that? Would you look at THAT?
"But what is it?"
"He won that. It's a Major Award."
"A Major Award? Shucks, I wouldn't know that. It looks like a pint glass."
"It is a pint glass, you nincompoop, but it's a Major Award. I won it!"
I am thrilled with what was my first AG win of my career. With an age group placement each athlete receives a monogramed pint glass. I have been fortunate enough to receive a glass at more then one Snake River Tri and don't get me wrong here, I'm proud and excited about each of them but...
I live in a home with a world class athlete. She has more "Major Awards" then she would ever care to display. In fact some of her achievements are displayed in our home only because I put them out. She may rather they languish in a shoe box in the basement. The photo below is a vignette of some of her accomplishments.
We actually use these Major Awards/pint glasses for what they were intended to be used for, drinking glasses in our home. Everytime I remove one of these glasses from the cupboard I decry "It's a Major Award!"
There was a time when I would whine every time Bootsy would dare use one of these pint glasses, saying it was my Major Award and I should be the only one allowed to use it. I don't know how she puts up with me.
That was until last year when she showed up to take home the women's overall win and her own "Major Award", amongst other things.
Below is a mock-up of Bootsy's accomplishments using my awards some of them Major. Please note the majority of the awards are team awards, a team that I am so very proud to be a part of.
Do I really care if Bootsy were to use a glass inscribed with a regional race? Of course not. It is just another opportunity to make a point not only to her but myself as well.
My decry, now public as well as private, is more of an attempt to keep the focus upon how lucky we are to be able to do what we do. Yes, it's cool to win awards or have recognition but the awards are more about reminders of all the hard work it takes to position ourselves to receive the awards. If you were to ask Bootsy, she would probably say she is most proud of the "awards" shown below. The metals are representation of battles fought not only by oneself but with so many others. Others who are all fighting their own battles but share the same arena, the same challenges. Other athletes who are looking to find and test limits.
And you know what. She's right.
"And with as much dignity as he could muster, the Old Man gathered up the sad remains of his now shattered idea of aMajor Award. Later that night, alone in the backyard, he buried this idea next to the garage. Now it could never be for sure, but the sound of "Taps" may have been heard being played, gently."
We all have those childhood friends who have left an indelible impression on our lives as an adult. Those friends who shared in our growing up and because of this are woven into the fabric of who we have become and are becoming.
O.K. I'm going to just say it; growing up Tim was a clown, a goofball. And not just your run of the mill everyday goofball, he was gifted. His light hearted playfulness and teasing always on full display. A prankster always in search of the opportunity for a quick joke or to elevate his game with a better prank. The goofball who often times could be heard belting out his own personal rendition of the song Roxanne as he left the locker room for the baseball diamond.
You put Tim between the lines and he would slip his cloak of clownishness and became a fierce competitor, the consummate teammate. One who was quick to praise and quietly lend support. But after the final whistle back into character he would go. Not a lot of dull bus rides home with Tim Druffel in the house.
Outside of the classroom and sports, Tim and I shared a love for the outdoors. We spent many hour fishing through out the region and hunting the canyons of the Snake River. Deer hunting became a yearly ritual that would bring Tim together with many life long friends and one that would reestablish the details of our adult lives.
Once in Alaska on a fishing trip with another high school friend, we were walking through a Kenai grocery store when much to our surprise we spotted Tim. It was completely random that we were all in the same store at the same time thousands of miles away from home. He would later explain he was there on "business" with clients. Tim hadn't spotted us and had absolutely no idea we to were in Alaska which gave us element of surprise. Rodger and I walked over and just started talking with him as though we had run into him in our hometown. True to form Tim never let on that we were standing in Kenai Alaska. He stayed in perfect character, just a few friends catching up and talking fishing. Tim would never want you to pull anything over on him.
Why does anyone get Cancer? Does anyone ever choose cancer? Of course they don't. It's not easy to think about cancer, let alone write about it. It leaves me with the feeling of helplessness, hopelessness and yes, relief that it hasn't found me - yet. Cancer may be a ticking time bomb that lies in wait like the monster in the closet of the minds of our childhood. It hides in our colons and beneath the pillows of our breasts. It starts in our testicles attacking our lungs while nestled in the neurons of our brains.
Sun can cause cancer. Too much food can cause cancer. Inactivity can cause cancer. Everything we do or don't do for that matter can cause cancer. There are times cancer and what it does will leave me wanting to drown my anger, sorrow, and fear in a fish bowl of adult beverage. But that too - can cause cancer.
Cancer is just so in your face. It's like the dirt that clouds Pigpen in the Peanuts Comic Strips of our society. It's like a stiff winter breeze that cuts though your light but fashionable jacket on a dark February day. It's the dog hair on everything you own when sharing a home with a Siberian and a Shepard. But cancer is more than an ever-present annoyance, it's a killer that is robbing our planet while relentlessly seeking new prey. Who doesn't know someone who has either suffered from or has died from cancer?
In the spring of 1993 Tim met Shelly Heimgartner and although there was nothing extraordinary about the beginning of their relationship, this quickly changed. Early on in their relationship it was very evident that Tim was "in trouble", you could see it in his actions and in his eyes. And when you saw them together it was obvious that Shelly was the love of his life, his soulmate. Tim, as one might expect, was glowing in the light of their love. They were absolutely beautiful together.
I spent a good part of my adult life as a professional portrait photographer. I have photographed literally thousands of brides. My sisters and sister-in-law excluded for obvious reasons, to this day when asked the answer has always remand the same, Shelly Heimgartner Druffel is the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. But it was more then what was an attractive young lady dressed in white walking down the aisle that May day in 1995, it was a combination of her exterior beauty and the inner beauty that was Shelly Heimgartner.
Outer beauty comes from our parents, our bodies creation comes from the combination of theirs. But inner beauty comes from growth of consciousness that we carry from a life lived. Our individuality is the joining of the physical heritage of our parents and the spiritual heritage of our lives, its consciousness, its bliss and its joy.
There are people where their inner beauty is so much, their inner light so bright that it radiates from their outer body. The outer body doesn't necessarily need to be considered beautiful, but the light that comes from the most inner source makes that outer body appear beautiful, radiant.
Shelly's inner beauty was this kind of beauty. When combined with her exterior beauty on that day in May it was breathtaking.
Shelly's love for Tim so natural, so deep and so complete it made it seem from the outside - so simple. Her love for Tim didn't appear to be something alive, something in flux or in need of nurturing. Her love so pure, it appeared to be almost easy. Shelly's model for love is something I keep around, pulling it out from time to time to be used as a model for the loved ones in my life; Simplistic in design, natural, complete.
"Hey we're starting our family. Shelly is pregnant!"
"Hey Shelly has cancer."
Breast Cancer places the both parents in a situation where they need to consider all parties involved. Any and all treatment options could adversely impact the fetus. Another issue with cancer is that the body is sick so it doesn't act as the best incubator and therefore doesn't always provide the proper nutrition. Cancer treatment can cause anemia because of the inability for the mother to carry oxygen well; and the mother is more susceptible to infection.
As a result of each of these risks, Tim and Shelly were faced with a tough decision of undergoing treatment or terminating the pregnancy. Terminating the pregnancy would introduce what could be moral or religious conflicts but if they delayed the treatment the cancer may advance, decreasing the chances of Shelly's survival.
The breast cancer itself has no impact on the fetus. The fetus is protected from breast cancer because the it cannot cross the placenta. Most babies exposed to Chemotherapy during the 2nd and 3rd trimesters are born healthy, there are risks but Chemo may be the best case scenario.
Ultimately, the decision was made go forward with Chemo but treatment would be delayed until it was deemed safer for the fetus.
Tim and Shelly had moved into a home on a small farm just outside of Eltopia Wa. I was in the Tri-Cities and Tim had asked that I stop by so we could visit and catch up a bit. I hadn't met his daughter Kailey so I agreed to stop in on my way home.
I remember how nervous I was as I drove up the long drive to the farm house nestled in the rolling wheat fields. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect. Shelly had been sick and there was a new born in the house but I wanted to show my support in what had to be a very difficult time.
Tim met me at the door with a hand shake that let me know I was welcome and wanted in his home. "Please come in, meet my family". As I step through the front door I could hear the baby crying in the distance. We move into the kitchen where Shelly is seated at the table, Kailey in her arms. Tim walks around behind Shelly putting his hand on her shoulder and says "Please meet my family". Shelly smiles looking down to Kailey, so happy, I could see it in her eyes.
But there were other things I could see in Shelly as well. She was well into her Chemotherapy treatment and when coupled with child birth and nurturing a new born, it was showing in her physical appearance. She had lost the majority of her hair and wore a scarf to cover her head, another outward sign of the battle raging inside her body. She was so sick! I stood fighting back tears in a moment I will never forget. The details to that day still etched in my mind as though it were yesterday.
We walked the farm that afternoon, it was apparent that Shelly wanted to get out of the house. As we walked I remember making a conscious effort to remain in the moment, not to appear distant but to be present as my mind wandered away from something so natural as a walk with friends to pondering how this could happen to anyone let alone these two people. I wondered how Tim could do it. The pressures of a new born and a wife as sick as she could ever be with an outcome that remained unknown. Tim had professional pressures as well. He continued to work most days, when he could, when he wasn't needed at home.
There was a hidden strength in Tim on full display that day. Until I stood there looking at that strength, trying to comprehend what it meant to just get up every day, I couldn't fathom what a monumental task was at hand. To face a present that isn't going as planned and a further that was uncertain at best and to do it with such strength, that moment will influence my life forever.
In time the cancer would go into remission and Tim and Shelly would move forward in as normal a fashion as possible but there would be additional demons to face in the future.
Tim had three loves in his life, Shelly, his family and his love for the outdoors. Tim was gifted in balancing the three. Because of this Shelly supported and would encourage Tim's hunting and fishing trips. Shelly's support was a gift not only to Tim but the rest of us as well. Shelly would often travel with Tim on his trips so not only did I get to hangout with a good friend but it kept me in touch with Shelly and his family as well.
Hunting in the fall of 2002 and Shelly is sick again, the cancer is back. This time in the limp nods. Shelly is once again fighting the good fight but the cancer has taken a toll on her and it was visible in her exterior. Her appearance hollowed and she looked so very tired. Cancer had taken it toll on the outside but cancer could never be strong enough to touch her true beauty, her inner beauty. Her love for Tim, her love for family and friends, and her love for life, these would move forward untouched by cancer.
Tim and Kailey
December 6th 2002 - Tim absolutely loved fishing with Kailey but on this cold December day he would head out alone. Although Kailey wanted to go, Tim had decided it was to cold for her to be out on the water in their small open air boat.
The Call:
A friend and high school classmate calls letting me know that Tim had gone out fishing in the morning but when he failed to return by dark a private search had begun. The following day another call from Rick updating the situation. Tim's empty boat had been recovered. Tim was missing. Both professional and private search parties had been launched. I told Rick I wanted to join the private search. Rick warned against any efforts that could include the possibility of finding Tim's body.
"You're untrained. It's been more then 48 hours so this may no longer be a search and rescue, this most likely is a recovery. If it is a recovery do you want to be the one who finds Tim's body? As a paramedic we are trained in recovery and it's never easy. But to find the body of a lifetime friend that's a different story."
Guilt can be productive; it can help us grow, mature and learn from our behavior. Sometimes people can overestimate their knowledge of what could have been done. In other words, an individual thinks they could or should have done something more but, in reality, could not have.
I have always felt guilt for not joining the search, thinking it was a weakness in my personality that I didn't think I had the strength to deal with finding Tim's body. In hind sight there wasn't anything I could have done in that moment in time and what I have been left with is a better ability to evaluate a situation and make the best decision not only for myself but for those around me. Even if that means to stand down. I was not equipped to add to the search and may have in fact hindered it. A hard lesson to learn; that there is sometimes strength in a preconceived weakness or that the best course of action can sometimes be inaction.
What happened isn't exactly know and never will be but there are theories. In order to lower or take off his insulated coveralls Tim removed his life jacket. Standing he lost his balance, falling he hit his head on the way out of the boat and into the frigid waters of the Columbia River.
The search would continue and although Tim's body hadn't been recovered there came a time when a memorial was necessary.
As I walked into the memorial and a packed house, there wasn't an empty seat in the church, Shelly greeted each and every person in attendance that day. When it came to be my turn to be greeted there was a hug as I searched for something I could say but there was nothing that could be. "Shelly I wish there was something I could say." She replied with "I too wish there was something to say". She seemed to be comforting me. On this, one for the most inconceivably horrible days a spouse could ever imagine, she would take my hand and for a brief moment we stand in silence as if to say "I understand Craig, there is nothing you need to say". Looking into her eyes her strength in that moment was paramount. I then quickly turned to my seat, not wanting her to see the tears in my eyes.
I would watch Shelly during the memorial and the subsequent reception that followed as I would suspect many did. She was stowick in her appearance an absolute pillar. To see her strength on this horrifying day moved and changed me forever. I grew in her strength that day and I am still finding out how much.
Tim's body was eventually recovered on January 22nd. This providing his family some answers to nagging questions surrounding the circumstances that lead to his death and some closure.
Shelly did her best to move forward in life. She was grieving and continuing in her battle with cancer but this time the battle seemed different. Her body worn down by former struggles with the killer, she seemed exceptionally tired from a cancer that appeared deeper then it had been in the past. I worried what the lose of her soulmate would do to her ability to fight. She would put on a happy face, that was Shelly but her condition could be seen through the mask.
Shelly and Kailey would move in with her parents so they could assist during her treatment. I would call from time to time. Sometimes Shelly would answer, sometimes her mother would answer. When I got her mother she would gently say "I'm sorry, Shelly is resting" and I knew Shelly was on a bad day. "I will let her know you called and thank you for calling". There were times when Shelly would answer, I could hear in her voice how very tired she was. Sometimes we wouldn't really talk at all, we would simply sit and enjoy the company of a friend even if it was just a phone call. I would sit in the glow of her strength and friendship in an effort to provide some kind of comfort in an awful time.
Shelly passed on July 6, 2003 just over 8 months after Tim's passing.
Racing under the markings of TSD. (Tim and Shelly Druffel)
At all full Ironman races part of the pre race ritual is body marking. Body marking is held in an area where very nervous athletes gather to have their race number marked in permanent marker on each shoulder and age on their calf. The volunteers are always very friendly and obliging. At every race I ask to borrow the marker so I can mark the inside of my left forearm with TSD.
Iron distance racing is a privilege because not everybody who would like to compete is given the opportunity. Out of the worlds population there are a mere handful who have attempted the distance and even fewer who have completed it. When I'm out there it challenges me. It challenges me to think about who I am and why I continue to race. It's amazing what will go through my head. The doubts that can creep in and what I have to fight through, just to keep going. To train for a 2.4 mile swim, a 112 mile bike and a marathon and to fail at it, well that just isn't an option. When finishing is the only option, it means I am asked to push through some pretty dark places. If I'm not careful with my mental state in hard times the weight of an entire season with all the solo miles, all the hours of training when no one is watching, that can be a heavy cross to bear. As I have progressed in my racing career, I have found things to lean on when struggling in a race. Be it the crowd, a crowd that lusts for your finish as if it were their own. Or the kind words of a training partner given to me to be carried within as I race and to be reflected upon when the body is weak in the monumental effort that is an Iron distance race. It could be a family member who's strength in this world is something I hope I possess and continue to reaffirm that the example put forth is something that I will spend a lifetime chasing. But racing under TSD is something different for me. It's about strength both mental and physical. It's about an unwavering strength no mater what comes my way during a race. Be it something within my control or something completely outside of my control. The writing of TSD on my forearm is my chosen outward sign of strength. It's in my face the entire race, there is no looking away from it, there is no escaping it. It's a blatant reminder of what it takes physically just to get through the day. TSD is also a inward reminder of a mental strength that for me can waver through out the day. You do what you can to prepare for race day mentally. That means coming in with a mental picture of the entire race or a mental plan for things when they don't go as expected. You do what you can but you will still need a lot more. This is when I lean on the strength of Tim and Shelly. I lean on them as individuals and as a couple. When I struggle either mentally or physically, I reflect on their strengths. I reflect on how trivial this little race is in the grand scheme of things. How I have chosen to challenge myself in an effort to find limits. Limits that pale in comparison but limits that teach about strength on and off the course. The strengths I carry are learned and I can only wonder if they continue to grow within me. I guess that's part of the reason I continue to toe the line. The strengths that live in me, that grow in me will always be my strengths but I can only hope that they will help keep both Tim and Shelly's examples alive. I will continue to carrying these strengths in races around the world to lean on in times of trouble and I will carry them in hopes that others will look upon them and learn from them. It will be my continued tribute to a friend and his wife that provide an example of their strengths and to have TSD continue to grow not only in me but in others as well.
