C.: d.c, I really enjoyed the blog on Sunday, and I’m looking forward to reading as much of BEYOND THE THIRTEENTH MIEL: THE IRON MAN CHRONICLES as you’re willing to put on the blog each Sunday. However, the blog was nine pages long last week, and I must go to work this Sunday night. Would you mind splitting up chapter two so that I’ll have enough time to read all of it? I’m a cat, so I have a short attention span. With breaks every paragraph or two, it may take me until Sunday to read one-half of chapter two. Would you mind putting the first one-half of chapter two on the blog today, so that I can finish the whole chapter by Sunday night when I go to work?
D.: Sure, Cal.E., no problem. I’ll start with the lead in from the first chapter.
0817:
As I’m trying to distract myself from thinking about the challenging distances of this racecourse, the question that keeps running through my mind is, “How and why did I become interested in multi-sport events?” Just as my computer is rebooting right now, I’ll think back to the beginning, when I rebooted my athletic career……
CHAPTER TWO: REBOOT
0820: Bike course; mile 5:
Well, that was unexpected. No one warned me about that hill, just Sugar Mountain. I must navigate each hill six times in this race, since it’s a six-loop course, but that hill wasn’t as bad as the 13% grade hill that I had to climb in Lubbock. The location was interesting. It was as soon as I got out of the transition area! At least this one was five miles into the cycling portion of the race. I don’t want to think about hills, or my first attempt at completing the Buffalo Springs Lake One-half Ironman distance triathlon now. It would be too discouraging. I’ll just concentrate on the other triathlon I finished strongly in North Florida.
I thought that Central Florida would have the same terrain as North Florida, where I participated in that one-half Ironman distance triathlon in May. It didn’t have any hills in the bike or run course, unlike this course. That’s probably why I set a personal record for the distance that course entailed.
The other two one-half Ironman distance triathlon courses that I attempted were harder courses to navigate, too. That course was a lot like Greater Houston, where I train—flat and fast. That’s probably why I P.R.’d.
It was very different, though, from the first time I considered participating in a multi-sport event. I didn’t know what I was getting into, and the weather conditions were brutal! I probably would’ve given up the sport if it didn’t have a burning desire to prove, mainly to myself, that I could succeed at this rather difficult sport.
My computer is rebooting because I spilled sports drink out of my reservoir on it. Having the reservoir situated between my drop bars is convenient when I’m riding in a tuck position to be more aerodynamic when descending a hill or riding on a long, straight stretch of road into the wind, but it’s too close to my bike computer on a rough road. It will tell me my “specifics” in a moment. I just need to be patient. If it doesn’t come back up, though, I won’t know where I am on the bike course. That may be a good thing, because this course is treacherous. I need to distract myself as much as possible to keep from feeling pain and exhaustion. To do that, I’ll think about my first multi-sport event. That duathlon is when I rebooted my athletic career. It isn’t the only time, though, that I found I must reboot something in my life…
***
As the Southeast Texas sun peered out of the mid-June sky, the announcer shouted, “Men, line up! Faster runners in the front, slower runners in the back," was his command. With a “God bless you" from my friend and training partner Adelina still ringing in my ears, I took my place about two-thirds of the way back, thinking that was about right for a ten-minute-per-mile pace.
It was a hot, muggy day already, even at 6:30 a.m. The temperature reached the mid-80s by the time the starter's pistol sounded at 7:00, so loosening up wasn’t a problem. I stood briefly on my tiptoes, trying to locate Luke, my friend, co-worker, and sometimes training partner. He should be about in the middle, I thought, but there are too many tall, skinny guys here to pick him out.
The 20 minutes Adelina and I had allowed ourselves to rack our bikes and do everything necessary to participate in this race didn’t allow enough time for me to find Luke before the sprinter’s pistol sounded. I’ll find him after the race is over, I told myself. I had run my share of five-kilometer races and had completed them without a whole lot of problems, but a duathlon was a different story. I had never even heard of a duathlon a year ago, nor did I know the meaning of the words "multi-sport event."
Millie, a good friend of mine from my church singles group, explained to me what a triathlon was when I questioned her after she mentioned that she was going to participate in one. "A duathlon," she had said, “is a good way to learn the basics."
I don't think my surgically repaired right knee will take that, I remember thinking at the time. Yet here I was, almost a year later, my right knee carefully supported with the knee brace I always use during intense physical activity. I use it because I suffered a devastating injury to that knee in an unfortunate accident in my late teens. Although I was then in my mid-30s, I still believed the knee brace to be necessary. The surgery had been an involved one that took the surgeon over four hours to complete, and two other surgeons had warned me that the knee would need to be replaced when I reached my mid-50s no matter how diligent I was protecting it.
“On your left!" rang out one rider after another, as I transitioned from the first two-mile run and onto the bicycle, still trying to catch my breath. The disturbing thing was that most of the riders were female, which meant that they were all now eight minutes ahead of me in terms of time, since their wave was staged eight minutes after the men's wave.
A ten-mile bike ride isn't really that daunting when it’s done independently, but when it’s staged between two, two-mile runs, it can be quite taxing to a novice in multi-sport events. As a result, I let my mind wander to distract me from the pain my body was feeling. I remembered my marriage that had ended almost five years before. (It has been medically proven that distraction is an effective form of pain relief. That is something I sought at this time, as well as while participating in the longer events.)
A divorce decree had come in the mail, the only confirmation that I was really and truly divorced. Patricia, my ex-wife, decided to go to the court proceedings by herself without informing me of the date. While I questioned the legality of the process, I felt no need to challenge the decision, except for two things. We obviously weren’t meant to have a permanent relationship, arguing over very inconsequential things. The only thing we seemed to have in common was a desire to have a child. We hadn’t known each other very well before getting intimately involved. That had been a mistake. However, we both agreed to a “no-fault” divorce, which meant that we would each keep the possessions with which we had entered into the marriage. The wording of the document was the first thing that had disturbed me, since I had never been "sued" for anything before. The other thing that bothered me was a bit more daunting. In my brief, six-month marriage, I developed a fondness for my stepdaughter, Ali, that I'm not sure will ever subside. I still think of her as my first child. That made the next memory a painful one, since I really do love children.
"Jed, are you going to move back in?" Ali asked, innocently, when I went to retrieve the remainder of my belongings from her mother's house.
“N-no, sweetness, I'm not," I stammered as I turned away to hide the tears welling up in my eyes. What I didn't realize at that time was that I would never get another chance to say goodbye to her.
I’m still better off now, I reflected, thinking of my friends. Adelina, Leta, and Millie were close female friends with whom some romantic possibilities existed. I did, however, empathize with Luke's situation to some degree, since he was trying to save a troubled marriage for the sake of his son.
C.: Oh, wow! Look at the time! I must get to The Kennel for my evening work shift. I suppose I shouldn’t have played with that ball of yarn for so long. I’ll finish this chapter on Sunday, though.
Opmerkingen