|Just after my first Ironman in 2008 with the mentor who got me through it.|
I won't be making the trip, not because I'm injured. I was fine when I finished IM #3 last year. I didn't re-register because it was time for a change. I wanted to try something else for a while (I guess I got what I wished for!).
Of course it didn't help that the World Triathlon Corporation's strategies and initiatives made the whole event more about extracting increasing sums of money from the amateurs and promoting the professional athletes (in 2009, WTC purchased a number of Ironman franchises from North American Sports - the owner of Ironman Canada. WTC is owned by Providence Equity Securities). The idea of waiting in line, in the sun, before race day, to pay more than $600 US more than a year in advance to race (let's call it an interest-free loan, perhaps?) just rubbed me the wrong way. But I digress.
I am still feeling a little bit of a loss for not being there to soak up the energy of, in my opinion, the best sports experience anywhere. It is the setting, the volunteers, the racers...I've found myself being a little listless over the past couple of weeks. I've not ridden my tri bike and have all but given up on swimming. I suppose this is how I'm dealing with the sense of loss...or passage.
I have a number of friends taking part in this race at the end of August. I will be racing vicariously through them (you know who you are!) and watching the event online...if the feed works this year. This is still a great race and my best wishes to you!
But as I decided on that sunny day in August 2010, in the athlete village in Penticton when I saw the 2011 race sign-up line snake around the entire length of the grounds...it was time for a change.
But along with this unwelcome surprise came a number of unexpected blessings. I spent more time with my family and learned to do the things they liked to do, as they learned what I liked and much coffee was enjoyed.
I had the absolute privilege and pleasure to introduce my partner to a wonderful man, his partner and his family and to spend a week in their company doing everything and doing nothing. Ironically the sign above is from one of the sojourns we took where they introduced us to a part of the world I had never before seen.
But what really made an impression on me was a chalk board sign that I encountered at a local folk festival. My partner and I usually like to walk downtown and soak in Patchouli infused Birkenstock wearing ambiance of the festival during the day, before the headliners show up. It really is a good experience.
As we walked through Victoria Park, there it was, a huge chalkboard sign made up of a number of classroom-sized chalk boards. On each of the boards were the words: "BEFORE I DIE I WANT TO ..." and then a blank line to fill in one's wish.
So I thought, and I thought. I stole some surreptitious glances at my partner, who's hand I held increasingly tighter. I thought about my kids, I thought about some of my good friends, both new and old.
I thought about my foot and the injury that isn't going away, but is lingering, seemingly just to make a point. I thought about the recuperation and physical therapy that is demonstrating how fast I can run, and also how little a should run. It is an injury that seems to be urging me, as I get older, to hurry up and slow down so I can meander on the path less taken.
That's when I realized that I was doing exactly what I want to be doing before I die. Everything else is details.