A year ago now i wrote a few lines about my Ironman experience in Kalmar Sweden. Now I know some of you will wonder why someone of my age still takes part in such events and many will dismiss me as being mad. This year shortly before I left for the wonderful city that is Copenhagen a friend asked a pertinent question,”do you think your race could possibly be as good as last year?”
Taking part in an Ironman race with your son in the same field is quite a thing. Of course we could exchange banter before the race and he set up my bike computer properly but when the gun went we were on our own. As the race progressed, just like last year, and as they did a sort of ‘magic’ happened a ‘magic’ i will carry with me for all of my days. I PB’d in the swim. Don’t know how or why as all the stuff I tell everyone else I plain forgot and just ‘went for it’- I even found myself laughing at one point.
My good friend “Chef’ had texted me the night before the race offering wise words-‘go steady all the way’ on the bike. Yes I replied I will-but I didn’t ,I torched it. I PBd the bike too.
The first piece of magic that occurred was around mile 40. My son, who had started some 30 minutes after me, in another wave,came flying by . We roared greetings and encouragement at each other and I laughed again. The course was gently rolling with only 3200 feet of climbing in total. The wind was strong but mercifully, was only full head on for around 10 miles. The course, unlike Sweden was relatively deserted as it was staged on main roads, some of them dual carriageways but all closed to traffic. There were two amazing exceptions, ‘hot spots’ as the organisers call them. Again the magic happened as we raced first up a hill and then down a cobbled street in a town with barely enough space between the crowds, like a scene from the Tour De France, we raced along my heart leaping with joy at the experience I was having. I sort of sobbed and laughed all at the same time. The two loop course meant two helpings of the same pie.
I had promised myself that I would walk the first mile of the marathon in order to loosen my legs. However as I emerged from the transition tent I was confronted my a funnel of humanity clapping their hands and urging me, and everyone around me to run, and so i did, well my version anyway. After 7 or 8 miles I decided to reward my ‘plodding’ by a treat of salted biscuits washed down with coca cola, yum!. Next thing I knew I had tripped over and was lying on the floor my biscuits in a puddle and my coke all over a worried looking marshal. Now I don’t make excuses and i am sure I would have run out of puff anyway but this tumble that hurt my knee and caused me to walk most of the rest of the course also allowed me to meet and experience some more wonderful moments of magic that will live with me for ever.
First and perhaps best of all shortly after my setback I heard a familiar voice and Tom’s arm appeared around my shoulder. Now I hope you will excuse me for singing my sons praises but his performance on the day was just fantastic and it would have been even better if he had not chosen to jog a couple miles with me in order to make sure Liz and Aileen (our wonderful support crew) would have the opportunity to take some pics of us together. Thanks Tom.
I met a man who runs a programme for Danish war veterans who are suffering from post battlefield stress (We are not the only European country in Afghanistan) They have used triathlon as a way of rebuilding people, giving them back their pride and instilling a sense of purpose. He was also a Danish International Rugby prop forward (Denmark do have a rugby team I now know).
I met a delightful Danish man who only that week had become a father for the first time, a baby boy. When I told him about my son being in the same race he looked at me and tears filled his eyes.
At one point my head was bowed, more for fear of falling on some cobbles than from fatigue, when a gentle hand touched my shoulder and a soft voice encouraged me to look up and see beautiful rainbow.
I met an English woman who had a disabled child and for who this race really was a big thing a sort of ‘giving something back to herself’ . As she got within 2 miles of the finish the emotion got to her and she began to shake. I am sure we broke some rules but she held on to my arm for nearly a mile as I encouraged her to calm down. I finally managed to get her to drink a large red bull, which did the trick, as she finally took control and left me with a fond farewell.
The final piece of magic had a wonderful symmetry to my life in triathlon. Many many years ago i watched a man carry his seriously disabled son around the Kona course, you may have seen the video. I have never found anything so moving in my life. When iI watched it my daughter often reminds me that that was the moment I announced I wanted to do an Ironman race for myself. Well you may have read in the Daily Mail or if you have not do visit this link and watch something specialhttp://vimeo.com/104312124 . Anyway as I approached my final lap, far away from the crowds as the lights were beginning to fade, I saw one superbly fit young man pushing his severely disabled twin brother. I do not know what they were saying but communicating they were and the words courage and love took on a whole new meaning for me. Life is full of setbacks and when they happen you can roll over or else you can face
them full on. Seeing these two brothers in arms reminded me how lucky Tom and I are and all of us who take our bodies for granted. It also turned my mind to Louis Watts who thanks to all your help will now get his disability trike.
The blue carpet at the end of an Ironman is bliss. You sort of line up to be hailed by the crowd. (i nearly tripped over the huge union flag Tom had handed to me-twerp that I am) All pain goes, a feeling of utter joy takes over.
And so I now know the answer, the magic happened and the answer is Yes!! it was as good as last year maybe even better. Anyone for Zurich next year? (my finish time was 14 hours 6 minutes -a new PB!!) Tom was an amazing 104th out of 3200 racers in a time of 9:30. He was first GB athlete in his age group. Awsome.
Tales of a Life Well Lived 