The half ironman distance was going to be a beast. I knew that going in.But race morning dawned most beautiful as seen from my seventeenth floor balconey. There was my swim course, shrouded in beautiful shapes and colors indescribable and transient, giving dawn to my own hopes and aspirations.
I have never heard the national anthem sang more beautifully or a pre-race prayer taken so to my heart: beautiful!
There was beauty in the energy and committment of the young boys who were assigned to help us out of our wetsuits. There was beauty in the cheerfulness and helpfulness of the volunteers: the lady who held my bike out on the course so I could go to the port-a-john, the eager aid station workers, the young female volunteer on the run course, shouting encouragement with the same vigor after several hours: beautiful.
Then there was my own efffort, and the cause (my brother-in-law) for which I know I did my best. This photo of the stained, salty back of my shirt was sent to my brother-in-law. He will get the race shirt and my 1st place age group trophy. And hopes are, that he is lifted up, feels truly honored, and somehow this all might positively impact the way he faces his future. Indeed, that would be beautiful.
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