In the early morning hours on Sunday, the kids crawled into the mini campsite I created for them in my Subaru. Knowing the world of Iron distance races too well, we’ve become well equipped in the art of spectating. To the athlete, the task of the race lugger is nearly as important as not forgetting you bike shoes and helmet. No triathlete does the race alone. Whether in spirit or body, the immediate kin of the athlete has many important jobs. It all starts early, well before sunrise. In dimlit rooms near the racesite, 2000 athletes engage in their pre-race ritual of consuming bagels, Gatorade and other magic potions. Often in darkness, you hand your athlete his westsuit and give your best, “Go get em tiger” look. The parting of the luggers and their athletes is reminiscent of the parting of the sea. Swimcaps go to one side and camera bearing fans to the other. In the predawn shadows, you give him the thumbs up as he walks towards a sea of 2000 orange caps. Like a colony of seals, they all blend in together. Soon they crash into the frigid water thrashing for a piece of real estate. Weather it be a mass or a wave start, the start of any triathlon never disappoints. As they swim into the horizon, it’s just the beginning of the long wait. You begin to calculate. An Ironman is long, 2.4 miles of swimming, a 112 mile bike followed by 26.2 miles of running. Yep, it going to be a mighty long day. Even a Iron half gives you enough time to mull over the meaning of life. The first leg is over as the sun angles higher in the sky. The kids; cold, sleepy eyed and hungry begin to stir more. For them, the initial excitement of the swim start is long over and the rest of the day will be a time passing concoction of sugary treats, picking dandelions, running amuck, heckling each other and resting on curbs. I watch the back of each leg for the number that states the athlete’s age, hoping to get clue to where my husband stands in his race. “Damn compression socks”, I think to myself as I watch covered and muscled calves run by. Who knows where he stands? The game is trying. But In the distance, I see his gait. It’s one of the few times I’ll see him during his journey. I rouse my biggest cheer and click the shutter in high-speed mode. He smiles and you know you time has been well spent. He then vanishes around the bend. The athlete continually fights the demons in his head throughout the day and hopefully your two-second connection has been enough to keep him fighting. At days end, no one has been spared from exhaustion, but the wave of enthusiasm masks it. The Iphone battery is long dead and the race is history. The kids, now sticky, punchy and just coming into their third or forth wind, hand their dad water and appreciate his shiny new medal. Their hero, their dad raced as fast today as many pros do. Once again he has proven that hard work pays off. Chris and his sister SarahPeter stands with Ironman World Champion Mirinda Carfrae
2 Comments
6/5/2012 04:05:33 am
Well said Jenny. I have always imagined you more as a schleper than a lugger. BTW.... you are still a pretty good racer!
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Wendy Kane
6/5/2012 12:18:52 pm
This is great and so true having lugged cameras, diaper bags, small children and posters cheering on my athlete at multiple ironman races I know where you come from. It is truly an athletic event for both family and athlete. Love the pictures.
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