Hope Merchant

Today, I did the Kona Eastside triathlon in Baytown, Texas. Although I was 2nd in my age group, I did have a good swim, and did really well fighting off the headwind on the bike. But, the run told me that I have lots of work to do before I take on that half ironman I am planning for October. My plan is to walk the aid stations on the half. So today I did that. It worked well, and I finished well, but the run still seemed hard.

I can remember when running came easy. Now it seems to be such an effort. At the age of 66, am I too old for this? There were only about 4-5 people over 60 doing this event. Perhaps I am trying too hard to hang on to something that has already escaped me. Perhaps, it would be wise to follow those my age who have already let go? These were the thoughts as I muddled through the run. I prayed. If nothing else, being on a downhill slide with my running ability has brought me to prayer more often; brought me closer to God.

Then a man about twenty years younger passed me and said, "You're my new hero."

"I'm your new hero? Why?"

"I tried to stay with you on the bike, but I just couldn't do it. You kicked my butt on the bike. You're my new hero."

"Thanks."

As he eased on ahead of me, I thought that perhaps, moments like this are a reason to do this stuff. How many times in life do we get the chance to inspire someone? How many times can we be someones hero, an agent of hope for someone looking down the road of their own aging ahead, when their run doesn't come easy anymore.

Perhaps, even in my old age inability, I can still be a hope merchant.

It's Just a Parking Lot

It's just a parking lot but in the dark, waiting for bike inspection and body marking, it is the place you want to be. Although there is plenty of time, there is still a sense of urgency to get your transition set up.

In the half light of the dawn and the day's hopes and aspirations, you converse easily with those racked near you. People you most often don't get the names of; people you will probably never see again, yet, in the beginning the chatter and camaraderie with these like souls have a calming effect. Then you walk the "swim in", "the bike out", the "bike in", and "run out" portals of the fencing. Within this surrounding barricade are rows of racks of many, many dollars worth of bikes. The ground is littered with equipment and the spirit of the moment is laden with the hopes and fears of those getting ready there. But, it's only a parking lot.

It's the place you have to leave hoping you are set up right for a good transition; a place you run to on bare feet, dripping water from the swim and trying to remember the marker you had to find your bike. It is the small little piece of real estate you hurriedly try to use and leave, pushing your bike to the bike mount line. After the bike ride,it is the place where through which you run with your bike, trying to find where your transition space was. It is the area where you hurriedly try to rack your bike, get your running gear and leave as quickly as possible. But it is only a parking lot.

After the race, the festive atmosphere, the awards ceremony, it the area they are starting to take down; the area you walk through in a state of fatigue and post-race euphoria, talking and saying good bye to friends. Your transition space is a state of disarray but what it all represents make you pause a moment before you take your old friend off the rack, and leave this area that is being destroyed all around you. But, it is just a parking lot.

In a short time the wind from the water will blow peaceful across this place taking with it all that has been there. After all it is just a parking lot.

But, you will take a piece of those moments spent there with you. What you did then and there is forever part of what you are now. Maybe it wasn't just a parking lot.

Hand to the Plow and Not Looking Back

Today, I was making rows with my pushplow to plant peas in one of my gardens. The first row had a high meander factor, you might say and I had to go back and get it straightened out. The next rows, I did what I always do but had forgotten: I found a point at the end of the row as my goal. By staying focused on that point, the plow is pushed straight. No looking back.

For me, training is like that. I do best when I just set my goals, and just do it. When I stop and think beforehand too much, I can be deterred from the straight path. My race schedule is set for this year. I am committed to the straight row to finishing a half ironman distance event in October this year. No need to look back. Just train. Follow the plan.

After gardening chores were done I went in and signed up for the next event on my schedule.

"-----no man having put his hand to the plough and looking back is fit for the kingdom of God." Luke 9:62

Ride It On Down: Climb Back Out

Trying to climb out of this training hole I seem to be in has been tough but I think I am on to something. Last year on the bike at the Couples Triathlon near Austin, Texas, I was really on a good roll. The big, bad hill they nicknamed "Quadzilla" had been overcome and I was close to finishing the bike and going strong. Excited about it all, I took the last corner too tight. My tire dropped off the jagged pavement edge and I found myself quickly heading down the ravine on the edge of the road. Two choices presented themselves immediately: lay the bike down, take the cuts, bumps and bruises or just ride it on down into the ravine. I chose to ride. It was a rough ride but at the bottom, I was able to stop, dismount, and climb back out.

In my present training I think I have slowed and dismounted at the bottom of my ravine, and have started climbing back out. It just feels like that.

Training, triathlon , and especially life puts the smack on us at times. We are presented with the choice of whether to lay it down or ride the ravine. For me, my best is usually to choose to ride, choose to be the person, the athlete God has chosen me to be.

An Event Next Weekend But Don't Feel Ready

There has been so much going on that my training has had to be altered, my schedule rearranged almost daily and all kinds of improvisations made just to get some training in. And I expect to do a half ironman distance event in October? Right now that seems like a "death wish."

I don't feel ready for the event next weekend either.
http://www.out-loud.org/kona_eastside_triathlon.htmBut (600 yd swim -16 mile bike- 4 mile run.)

as the saying goes "A man is not defeated until he is defeated in spirit." So, this morning in the freshness of the morning following the rain last night, I pray for that strength, that will, that courage to overcome situations I face and to overcome myself.
Then I will get my running stuff together and get out the door for my long run this week.

You Can Visit But You Can't Stay Here

Early morning, peaceful in the country, sitting in the swing welcoming the fresh day. Ah,really nice but the sun comes on up, a little warmer as time passes. I can't stay here. Life would atropy. I have a one hour run and a a two hour bike on my schedule for today. Time to get moving, to forge on forward and in the training provide contrast to the peacefulness and ease of the morning, making tomorrow at dawn even that much better.

"The woods are lovely dark and deep but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep and miles to go before I sleep."
Robert Frost from the poem "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening."

The Beautiful Picture

Watching a little lady doing a puzzle, a resident of the nursing home where my Mother is, I noticed she grouped all like piece in piles or bowls and worked on one area at a time. She has put together many puzzles of beautiful pictures this way.

Triathlon training is much like that. In our attempt to make that beautiful picuture of our performance, we group our training into the areas of swim, bike, run, nutrition, transition, strength training, and try to make the beautiful race, the stellar performance from all the little pieces.

So it seems with life also. We order our lives in little groupings and tasks and live our day to day but ultimately we are looking for our beautiful picture somehow within our reach but beyond our grasp. And the joy comes in the reaching, each day perhaps putting a piece into our puzzle, ever moving toward that beautiful picture just beyond the horizon.