Another Early Triathlon in the Miles of the Journey

 

Dogridge

 

June 23, 2002,

Stillhouse Hollow Reservoir,

Dana Peak Park, near Killeen, Texas

 

600-meter swim-19-mile bike-5k run

 

The water was very clear and appeared very deep. With practice swimming done, I got in my swim wave to begin the race.    In the wave just ahead of mine, a swimmer panicked.  His thrashing about and calling out frantically got all of our nerves on edge.  He was pulled from the water with no apparent harm done, other than setting a negative tone for the rest of us about to begin our swim in that clear, deep water. I swallowed hard when the volunteer said “next,” and motioned for us to wade into the water.

This event was done on a mountain bike, also, but this time it was a steel frame Stumpjumper that was about fourteen years old.  It was painted primer-gray, which we affectionately called it “Ole Gray.”  It was far too small for me, but somehow, it worked well anyway.  I was just proud to have any bike to do the bike leg with.   “Ole Gray” was not just any bike. There were no flat areas in this event, and “Ole Gray did well on those climbs.  The chain came off once (I wasn’t that good at the shifting thing just yet).  Lots of folks passed me as I was trying to get the chain back on “Ole Gray.”  But once rolling again, we started catching people.  Some looked around when they heard me coming with my mountain bike wheels and knobby tires roaring on the pavement.  I was doing well until I came to that bad hill,  for which the event was named:  Dog Ridge Hill.  There is a big water tower on the top of the hill with “Dog Ridge” painted on it.  

As noted before, I didn’t have a lot of gearing experience then, and the hill caught me in the wrong gear at the wrong time.  The hill was so steep that I was afraid of falling over from going so slowly.  The hill pretty much owned me.  At that point, I got off and pushed the bike up the hill.  Surprisingly, pushing my bike, I passed some folks still trying to stay up on their bikes.

 

Finally, I reached the crest, got back on “Ole Gray” and, after a couple of turns, entered a long, steep downhill.  Those mountain bike tires were roaring loudly coming down “Dog Ridge.”  I was soaring and roaring.  Looking down at my bike computer, I saw that I had topped out at fifty-two miles an hour!  I have never reached that speed since on road bikes or any other bike.  It is hard to believe that my personal best top speed on a bike was done as a novice cyclist on a fourteen-year-old mountain bike, several sizes too small.  But it had to be the scariest ride I have ever been on.  On that descent, I caught several people that I was afraid I would hit.  The idea of turning my front wheel even a small amount at that speed was a scary proposition.  My tactic was to take a line that would get me by the slower riders and hope and pray they held their line and didn’t veer in my path.  I must say it was exhilarating. However,  I knew I did not want to do that screaming downhill  “Dog Ridge” experience with my hair on fire, again, anytime soon.

 

On the last part of the course, the adrenaline rush from that downhill had me and “Ole Gray” rocking and a rolling, turning heads as riders looked to see what that roaring thing was that just passed them.   I caught a young man who was riding a nice tri-bike and tried to pass him as we went up a hill.  He would have none of that and sped up.  On the next hill, I came at him again.  He tried his best to speed up and keep me from passing, but this time, “Ole Gray” and I were too much for him.   As I went by the tri-bike rider, I am sure he could see my age from the body marking on the back of my calf.   Even if he couldn’t see my age, he could certainly see his young self, and his high-dollar tri-bike were being passed by an old man on an undersized, ancient, steel frame, roaring, knobby-tired, mountain-bike.  As I pulled away from him, despite his best efforts, I heard him shout.

 “sh----t”!  I would bet that man trained a lot harder for his next event.

 

The run was not that great, but I got through it.  The course ran the park roads and the campers there were good support and encouragement.   Late in the run, I found myself gaining on a guy that I could see was in my age group.  There were not many in my geriatric group, and I did not want to be last in it.  So, I pushed up the pace a little and passed him with just a few hundred yards to go.   Near the finish line, I pushed extra hard, right up to my edge, not knowing if this guy was going to make a race of it for last place.  It seemed like several minutes later before that man came walking in, totally spent.   All that gut-wrenching effort went into beating a guy who was probably walking all the way in.  At least I was not last in my age group however that came about.

 

 

 

 

One of My Early Triathlons Along the Miles of the Journey 2003

 

(Twenty three years ago, I did this event.  With all it’s flaws, I’d do it again.)

½ Mile Swim-15.52 Bike-5k Run

 

Lake O Pines - a lake I had fished twice in my former life.  Now, a different me was revisiting the lake to see and do things differently, and to do different things.  After a day of visiting relatives and hearing how hard and scary this triathlon business seemed to them,  I almost started wondering if I could even complete this event.  It is strange how who you are around can raise or lower your expectations for yourself.

 The sight of the swim buoys leading out into the open had me a little bit wary.  But once in the water, the fears and possible scary outcomes gave way to pulling water and passing whoever was in front of me if I could.  Yeah, the swim went really well, and toward the end of the swim, I was passing people on the wave that went before me.  That felt really good.

 The bike course came out of the park, then up over the wing of the dam onto the highway, making for a short but very steep incline right.  The rider in front of me was either in the wrong gear or did not have the power in his legs for that steep incline. He and his bike started wobbling as he was barely moving up the grade.  In addition, he had trouble getting unclipped, and he went down right in front of me.  Somehow, I avoided the wreck and negotiated the incline myself.  Several others were walking bikes up the grade.  So, it was good to get away from the congestion on that incline. 

Out on the rolling course, it was rule-breaker heaven.  People were drafting off each other.  People were riding two or three abreast, talking about their jobs; Automobiles were all over the course. If someone wanted to draft off a vehicle, not a problem.  The last couple of miles took us across the dam and back for a fast, exhilarating ride to transition. 

 The run from the transition was uphill at first.  Then it went along the edge of the lake and back.  It was one of the prettiest run courses I have been on.   But it was miserably hot, and I just did not enjoy the great course as much as I could have on cooler days.  I was just trying to survive there.  One of the drawbacks to the run course was the local red volunteer fire truck.  That blubbering diesel must have been added to provide some course obstacles.   Seemed that way.  His truck belched black, smelly fumes all over the run course, especially when he stopped here and there to talk to good old boy so and so. It was  Texas hot in July, and we were having to run through diesel fumes:  Yeah, tough day!  By the time I got to the finish, I was pretty well cooked. 

 One of the last runners was an eighty-year-old man struggling to finish.  In the last quarter mile of this man’s run,  he pushed on through blubbering black smoke all from the fire truck and some other diesels running near the finish.  The older finisher just sort of blinked his eyes and somewhat staggered through the diesel fog to finish. The crowd gave him a huge round of applause, and he certainly deserved it.

 

 

 

Giving the "Bad Hill" to God

 For a cancer patient, I guess I had a good training week last week.  This week, not so much.  The ups and downs seem difficult to deal with.  The lack of certainty and stability of issues with the treatment and the side effects often leave me in a state of "what's next?"

Blood thinners make every scrape or bump an issue.  Other drugs cause other issues that must be dealt with and lived through.  It's all much like running a marathon, of which you don't know much about the course.   I remember the Seattle marathon - 36 degrees and pouring down rain- and just about the time when I thought I had faced and overcome all the hazards of the event, I was presented with a huge hill around mile 25.  I was spent already, and now I had to climb this bad hill that seemed to go on forever. 

So far, I haven't come across that "bad hill" on this course, but I am not sure it isn't out there just waiting for me to be overconfident and think I have weathered the worst of it.  So, again, I give this all to God.  This time, I  hope I have the good sense not to take any of it back from Him and just free-fall with God on this.  

To Be or Not to Be More Moderate

 Lately, I  have been thinking a lot about what life has left me with.  My fitness just seems to improve in fits and starts as I progress along my cancer journey.  The protocol is to take it easy and do moderate stuff until I die.  It seems I will have to adjust to a life of moderation as much as I have to adjust to other demands placed upon me going through cancer treatment.  

So, do I be good and follow the instructions of moderation and die properly at the proper time in life?  Is my goal in life now proper and moderate?  Or, do I throw some caution to the wind and "ride the horse wild," and perhaps die a little earlier or suffer a little more in my prescribed end days? 

But you know, I'm an old guy already.  Shouldn't I be slowing down anyway and being more moderate?  Shouldn't old age be reason enough for following the implied instructions to slow down until you stop at death?  Isn't old age enough of a reason by itself to become more moderate?  

It's so tempting to let life turn into a free fall to the grave.  All I would have to do is be still and wait for it. First, the joints and mobility would go, then the heart, and then the choice I am considering now would no longer be available.  

The Bible says, "It is appointed a man once to die."  When that appointment is, I don't know. God does, but  I haven't been notified.  So the choice is still mine:  Live or begin dying.   I feel too good and too blessed to choose anything but life right now, that is, until God calls me home.  Praise God.

#40 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- The End of the Cancer Reports- Learning to Live with Uncertainty, With Certainty

 And the treatment today went well.  I have been so blessed to have the oncology team that I have.  We  have all marched on into this cancer journey, the team, the family, those who care.  We are all doing our best to cope and to learn to live with the fear and uncertainty that the word "cancer" provides. 

Living with this uncertainty has certainly tuned in the vivid button in life.   Things, events, and people are viewed in a more real perspective, which only uncertainty can provide.  Life gets real when they tell you that you have cancer. 

But I think cancer doesn't create the uncertainty; it only exposes the uncertainty that has always been there.  The most fatal and widespread cause of death is life itself.   When it will happen is uncertain, but the event itself is quite certain.  And the question becomes:  how long do I have to live, and what will be my quality of life?" 

Yet,  uncertainty sometimes seems to put life on steroids.  When I write my books and my stories, I don't write about times in the recliner watching movies.  No, my books, stories, and blogs are most often about periods of risk and uncertainty.    

Looking back, I realize that many times I have narrowly missed death or death has narrowly missed me, that is.    I have honestly thought I was going to die on three different occasions.   But for some reason known only to God, I was miraculously rescued.   Life took on new shades of meaning, and I came to more fully realize that the uncertainty I faced was only uncertain to me.   It wasn't uncertain to God. God had always had me in His care,  within the certainty of God,   

We all face uncertainty daily, whether we have cancer or not. But we don't have to face uncertainty alone.  We have a certain  God who has us in the palm of  His hand, leading us through the perceived darkness of uncertainty, certainly. God tells me fear not, and don't let the clouds of today obscure the sunshine of tomorrow.

#39 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- It Just Feels Like Time

 

The cancer journey will be indeterminable.   The same things, the same setbacks, the same good days.  I want to move on, but of course, I have cancer, and it will be with me as long as I have this life.  However, I don't have to dwell on it.  

It is essentially a chronic disease to be dealt with daily.  But it is essentially like my having to deal with asthma all my life.  It is to be dealt with daily, but it didn't have to be the controller of my life.  

I am doing as well as could be expected with the treatments and the outcomes.  That is about all I can say.  I am sure people don't know what to ask me about this, except to say "how are you doing"?  

And so, one more "rapids of cancer post" and I am moving on from that in this blog. If a major life changer comes up, yeah, it will go here, but regular "how I am doing" posts, no.   It just feels like time.

#38 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- Wishing for a Stronger Faith

 The Sunday before my biggest treatment.  Altogether, I get all four cancer drugs plus blood thinners, a viral preventer, and an asthma medication.   Who could have guessed I could have gone from no meds at all for a few years to this fruit salad of medications?  So far, I am bearing up well under all this.  In fact, I feel really good.  My physical capabilities keep expanding, and mentally, I am in a good place.  There are some down times, but the more I am into this lifestyle, the easier it is to navigate these straits.

There is a flu epidemic in our area, and I have avoided crowds and close places with people.  I am doing the hermit routine.  It isnt't my first choice, but I am adaptable.  This too shall pass. I wish things were different, but they are not.  I can't change that, but I can give it to God.  

The problem is that I give my issues to God and then in a weak moment, take them back. When it gets overwhelming, I give it back to God, and so this goes.  If my faith were stronger, I would imagine I wouldn't be taking back so much that I gave to God.  Holy Spirit, infuse me with a greater faith that I may release my fears and place all my hopes in God.