Taking Stock of the Situation

“If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and man.”
                                                            Mark Twain

“All right man. I’ve had enough. I’m turning around.”

It was the equivalent of a slap to the face followed by an ice cold bath. It got my attention. I had blown a gasket the size of Mt. St. Helen’s on steroids with a dramatic flourish usually only seen in a pack of middle school girls. I had yelled at my coach, my mentor, and most importantly my friend. How the heck had I gotten to the point where I had bit the hand that had fed and nourished me for that last year?

It had been boiling and brewing for a week. I was a mess of emotions that would have made Sybil proud. Angry, scared, hurt, confused, tired, pissed, frustrated, disappointed, embarrassed - you name it, it was bouncing around in my noggin.

I had gone out for a ride with Jaime, Riley, and Brad. Instead of just relaxing and enjoying the ride, I found my emotions spinning out of control and with it my cadence and my speed. I could feel myself pushing harder and harder as we began climbing up Bachelor. I passed all of them and then stupidly started beating myself up by trying to hammer it harder up the hill. I’m not sure if I was trying to just push myself so hard I would pass out or just make myself hurt by beating myself to a pulp. At some point I heard Jaime come up behind and say, “Well the boys have left and headed back to town. What is wrong?”

I really had no reason to be going through this as I look back. Yes, the race at Oregon Dunes the weekend before had been a mess. However, the silver lining in that mess had been an age group win - one that got me an invite to the USA Triathlon Age Group National Championships. Later in the week I received a note from USA Triathlon that an article I had submitted to them would be published in their weekly newsletter. My son’s robotics team had a stellar weekend at their underwater robotics competition. My wife had won her age group at the Chainbreaker mountain bike race, my daughter was headed to the coast in a couple of days for a science camp and was thrilled. Life was GREAT! So why was I pissing in the frosted flakes?

The Wednesday after the Oregon Dunes was a busy day at the pool. I found a lane and asked a lady if I could share. We decided to split the lane and I started my training program. I noticed the lane next to us was busy as well with a couple of swimmers that were warming up for water polo. About halfway through my routine my lane partner was coming at me swimming butterfly while in the next lane I had a high school kid who was swimming stroke for stroke with me. My partner accidentally hit me as she passed by and I felt myself dart into the lane divider and bump into the other swimmer’s foot. All of the sudden I felt my chest tighten and my mind swim. What the heck was happening? I stopped and discovered my heart was racing and I was breathing hard. Really? Yes, the swim at Oregon Dunes had been a bit unnerving, but worthy of a PTSD or flashbacks? While I stood there calming down I could feel an unwanted guest creeping into my mind. Doubt. All of the sudden I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle a much larger and more crowded open water swim at Boise. As every possible scenario started running through my head I began getting upset at myself for letting such thoughts become an issue. The rest of the week was a mental version of Jekyll-Hyde as I kept having doubts and then beating myself up for having doubts. My dreams of completing an Ironman, much less a half- Ironman were shattering like little daggers and then finding their way into my brain.

Jaime had every right to push me off the ledge I was teetering on, and he might have felt like simply pushing me over on my bike. Thankfully his threat to turn around and head home was the message I needed in order to come off the ledge. I snapped out of my myopic rant and realized very quickly just what a royal douche bag I’d been. We turned around rode down the mountain and along the way picked up the pieces of my training, my racing, my life, my dreams, and our friendship. We rode into town weaving through the streets and talked about what was going on and what I needed to do in order to come to terms with everything. He provided insight and wisdom but also gave me a gentle kick in the ass. We parted but beforehand I once again apologized and sincerely asked for forgiveness.

That night I sat down and took stock of the situation. I wasn’t going to set the world on fire as a triathlete, and for all intense purposes I was always going to be pushing myself against a younger and stronger group of athletes. I was reminded of the Serenity Prayer - grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time;
During the weeks leading up to the race at Oregon Dunes I had been consumed with the thought of trying to do my best. Wanting to beat certain times. Wanting to prove people wrong. The old word for tuberculosis was consumption. It was an appropriate word for the situation. Generally, the afflicted person would eventually become consumed by the disease, and eventually died. I realized that I would need to change a lot of things or I too would become consumed to the point where I would kill off some important relationships.

At the end of each school year I write out narratives on my students. They provide an overview of how a child is doing and is our school’s answer to report cards. They are time consuming but they are also worthwhile. Often I find myself writing down that I hope a child will dig deep into their heart, determine who they are, live their own defined journey, and not compare themselves to others. I realized that was exactly what I needed to do for myself. Determine what I wanted to be as a triathlete, define and determine my own journey, and stop trying to compare myself to the others around me in terms of times, training, and ability. I let go of a lot of anger. I let go of a lot of perceived slights. I took a lot of deep breaths, and I also told myself that I just needed to relax. I turned over a new leaf the size of one of the elephant ears that grow along the bayou in the town where my wife was born.

As embarrassed as I was for the blow up, I related to Jaime (after again expressing how mortified I was over my behavior) that it was probably what needed to happen. I needed to have the melt down and then reassemble the pieces in a better and more appropriate form. I went to Boise relaxed. I spent a lot of time almost meditating – simply trying to live one day at a time and be in and enjoy the moment. Yes, I was a bit nervous, but relaxed. I ended up having a great race. I have a race this weekend in Bozeman. I’ve been coming off a sinus infection. It’s not exactly how I’d like to approach a race, but it is what it is. I will find time for more meditating, more relaxation, more living in the moment, and spend a little bit of time taking stock of the situation. I’m ready to give it my best shot but I also want to make sure that I have fun. Accept the things I cannot change, courage to make those changes that I can, and then know the difference in the two.

Today I had lunch with Jaime to celebrate his upcoming birthday. As we talked about things he related that at one time about ten years he felt like he had to win every race and became consumed in the training to the point where it was, in his words, making him a raving lunatic. He too had a similar blow up and his wife provided a version of the cold water slap to the face similar to the one he had given me a month ago. He realized he needed to take stock of the situation and make some changes. I’m thankful for the changes he made and I’m thankful he was willing to let me know in no uncertain terms that I needed to do likewise. 

Boise 70.3

I was working my way into my wetsuit when I heard a commotion behind me. I turned around to see a strapping guy walk by with two very good-looking women on either elbow. Apollo Anton Ono waltzed by and made his way to the swim wave start, and was that Craig (CROWIE) Alexander I just saw? Yes, Dorothy we were no longer at a small town race. This was the big time.

The Monday after Leadman back in September, Jaime and I sat down to lunch to discuss the racing season and to talk about the coming year. We agreed that my first half-ironman would be at Boise. Even better, Jaime said he would join me.

It would take some doing. Eight months of training, a half-marathon, a sprint triathlon, an Olympic triathlon, and a thoughtful plan would prepare me for this race. I’d need to make some sacrifices. The race would be four days before the end of school so I would end up taking a day without pay so that I could head over to Boise on Friday.

Friday morning I woke up around 4:30, a couple of minutes before my alarm would go off. The sky was lightening up as I showered, ate a quick breakfast, grabbed my bags, put my bike on the rack. I discovered my front tire was flat. I had ridden that bike just two days earlier so I hoped that maybe it was a leaky valve. I pumped the tire up and watched it lose air. I needed to get on the road and I had an extra tube. I figured I’d need to get an extra tube when I reached Boise. I’d change the tire when we got there so I did one last check and texted Jaime that I was on my way. Our travel partner Wendy was waiting at his house. We got everything loaded and pointed the car toward the rising sun.

The drive across Eastern Oregon is a beautiful but lonely country. Towns are few and far between. We lost an hour as we moved into the Mountain Time zone and arrived in Boise after lunch. We drove to Julia Davis Park and got all of our registration materials. Originally we had hoped to be able to drive up to Lucky Reservoir and get some time in the water. Jaime had a new wetsuit and I knew he wanted to gauge the chilliness of the water (something that is discussed over and over by athletes who participate in Boise). Unfortunately we were not allowed to swim in the reservoir. We arrived at the lake. Jaime switched out the wheels on his bike to his race wheels and threw on his disc and we got a new tube into my front tire. The three of us rode our bikes to the T1 area and checked them in. My number was easy to remember, 222. For those of my generation, who grew up watching TV in the early 1970’s it reminded me of the show Room 222. I remember having a crush on Karen Valentine, one of the stars of the show. I decided my mantra for the weekend would be ‘Karen Valentine is my co-pilot’.

We headed back into town to attend the athlete meeting and drove by the T2 area on the campus of Boise State University. The meeting was held and questions were answered. It was time to head to the hotel, but first we made a

quick stop for some food at Whole Foods. Jaime had recommended a couple of things and I wanted to try them out and see how my stomach would react with plenty of time prior to the race. Wendy was staying at a different hotel so we dropped her off at her hotel, made arrangements to pick her up for dinner and made our way to where Jaime and I would be staying. We got checked in, found our room, and started to get things laid out and prepped for the race. Jaime gave me an extra tube so I was set in case I got a flat during the race.
It was dinnertime and we decided that Italian would fit the bill. We picked up Wendy and made our way to the appointed restaurant where we met up with Brad and David, two other athletes from Bend. We enjoyed a great meal and Jaime was even kind enough to order spumoni as a belated birthday treat (my birthday was the day before). It was time to head back to the hotel. Say goodnight to the family, and get a good night’s sleep.

7:00 came – probably the latest I’ve ever woken up for a race. Most races start early, usually somewhere between 6:00 and 8:00 am, but in Boise a cannon would fire off at noon in order to start the first wave. I woke up refreshed and ready to go. Jaime and I made our way down to the lobby to grab a bite to eat. We talked to a couple of other athletes and all of them commented about the late start and how it felt a little bit off. It was nice to be able to order up an omlet and hashbrowns and read the Idaho Statesman. We had plenty of time to eat, get things organized, check out, and make our way over to Wendy’s motel. We headed to the park, eventually found a parking spot, dropped our bags off in T2 and boarded the school buses that would take us out to Lucky Reservoir. I utilized the time to center myself, relax, and visualize how the race would go. All too soon we were off the bus and making our way to T1.

Suited up, I had my brush with Apollo, got a good luck fist bump from Jaime, and headed to meet up with the others in my swim wave. After my issues at Oregon Dunes, I purposely held back and chose to enter in the back. I turned to the ladies behind me and said, “all right girls, no laughing when you swim by me”. This got a chuckle and it helped me lessen my nerves. I slowly made my way and got accustomed to the cold water. The earplugs and neoprene cap made things bearable. I kept telling myself that all would be good. The horn went off and we were off. The course was laid out in a clockwise triangle with the first leg being the longest. I felt good in the swim. There were a couple of ladies from the wave before me that caught up and passed me, but I also passed folks from the wave before me. I experience choppiness for the first time. Thankfully it didn’t seem to concern me and I didn’t get nauseous. I rounded the final corner, sped up my swim stroke, and felt strong as I made my way to the swim exit. I ran up the hill and was greeted by a stripper. Quickly I was on the ground, the suit ripped off my legs, helped back to my feet, suit pushed into my gut, and I was off to the bike.

The whole plan with the bike was to maintain a certain heart rate throughout the race. I slipped into a good cadence, checked my heart rate and headed out.
The steepest hill came at the beginning of the race. There would be more hills along the route but this one would set the pace. I made it up the hill and was thankful for all the time I had spent climbing the hills around Bend. Miles ticked by and I was surprised at how quickly things were going. My nutrition was working and I even became comfortable grabbing the bottle behind my seat while riding. The turn around came and I knew that I had it in the bag. I fought off the wind, which whistled across the flatter portions of the race. My white sleeves were keeping me comfortable and things were feeling good. At mile 35 I heard a familiar voice behind me. It was Jaime, who had gone off twenty minutes behind me. He pulled up along side, told me I was having the race of my life, and noted that it might be good to remove my earplug from my left ear. I had taken my right earplug but failed to get the other and didn’t even realize it was still in. He told me to remember the plan, I wished him luck, and he was off. I made my way into Boise and continued to monitor my heart rate. Things were feeling good. I was familiar with the area around Boise State so I was excited when the old train station came into view. I knew it was a quick downhill into T2.

I came into the T2 feeling pretty good. As a triathlete being on a bike for an extended time can lead to some interesting hygiene issues. I had been struggling with allergies a couple of days prior to the race and throughout the bike I was blowing my nose. No Kleenex, just gravity, and lot of wiping. I ripped off the sleeves, blew my nose into each sleeve, jammed them into my bag. Shoes were thrown on along with my hat and it was time for that final leg of the race. The run would be two loops along a paved path along either side of the Boise River. Though it was late afternoon, most of the run would thankfully occur under a canopy of large cottonwoods. As I made my way across the bridge I felt a slight cramp on the lower left side of my abdomen. I made a decision that I’d need to slightly alter my plan. I knew that there would be aid stations each mile so I’d try to keep the cramps at bay by staying cool and hydrated. At each aid station I grabbed a cup of water, took a sip, grabbed a cup of ice, through a piece in my mouth, and then dump the rest down the back of my trisuit. I’m sure from the rear I probably looked to someone like Nicki Minaj had taken up triathlons. I didn’t care. The ice kept my core temperature down, and more importantly, it kept me from cramping up. Each aid station was full of happy and enthusiastic volunteers. It kept me going and the miles ticked by. As I made my way under Capitol Boulevard for the last time I saw a familiar face heading my way. I high fived Jaime as he made the final push to the finish and I picked up my pace, knowing that the end was in sight. Even though I know I lost some time stopping at each station by doing so I was able to maintain a sub 8:30 pace while I was running and was able to keep my pace below 9:00 for each mile.

The last mile flew by. I ran past a nice crowd gathered at the final turn before the last straightaway. I made sure to grin broadly at the cute sorority girl holding the sign that said ‘smile if you’re not wearing any underwear’. I caught her eye, she

giggled, and she let out a big whoop! There was no one ahead of me or behind me as I made my way to the finish. I heard the announcer say my name, I raised my hands as I crossed the finish line, and kicked my heels in the air. The crowed roared and the announcer yelled out, “I give that an 8.5!” Boise was in the books. I made my way through the chute and was greeted with a big grin by Jaime. Eight months of work was a success. I finished in 5:48:00, which bettered my goal by 12 minutes. We waited for Wendy to cross the line. We gathered up all our stuff and headed back to Bend. Fueled by Dutch Bros., with some help from the Grateful Dead and Billy Joel we made it back by 1:30 a.m. I dropped Wendy and Jaime off, headed home, showered, and hit the rack. Sleep came quickly.
I’m quick to thank Jaime for my success due to his coaching. His plans have allowed me to be successful. The true success of the program he developed for me was truly apparent though on the following day. I woke up feeling great. No stiffness or soreness. My wife and I even went for a mountain bike ride together in the early afternoon. That’s base fitness and it gives me confidence that I’ll be ready for the next race.

My doctor, who is also a triathlete, told me to make sure I enjoyed this race since it was my first 70.3. Boise was a blast and I look forward to not only doing it again, but improve on the benchmark I set for that race. I know I backed off a bit on my training and in the final plan. Jaime noted on our way back from Boise, that sometimes it’s better to back off a bit and have a balance between life and training. He noted that sometimes racers sacrifice it all for the race and then the pressure is too intense. If they fail, which he noted that 90% do, then they are left with nothing. My goal is to remain in the 10%, continue to strike a balance, have fun. Lake Stevens is in two months and I can’t wait. 

Oregon Dunes

Left to themselves, things tend to go from bad to worse.

                                               Murphy’s Law (one of many)

It was a podium moment, albeit a podium of sand. It was highly unlikely that I

should be standing above the handwritten ‘1’ in the sand, but there I was. The

journey to this moment was anything but normal. It was a race that Murphy

would have relished with wild abandon.

The original plan was for me to drive to Florence after work on Friday. I would

race the Oregon Dunes Olympic Tri on Saturday, return to Bend after the race,

and get home late Saturday afternoon. About three weeks before the race my

son’s high school robotics team decided to participate in an underwater

competition in Lincoln City. Though this was 1.5 hours north of Florence I agreed

that I could be a driver for my son’s team. I would drive part of the team over, get

up early and drive down to Florence, and return to Lincoln City after the race.

My reasoning for doing Oregon Dunes was twofold. First, it was an opportunity

to participate in an Olympic distance race. Second, it would allow me the chance

to swim in the open water. Since my half-ironman in Boise would be a month

later this would be a good confidence boost as I began my last month of training.

Bags were packed, packing list was double and triple checked, bike was loaded.

My son and I swung by his high school to pick up a couple of his buddies. A

quick stop at Dutch Bros., a good luck text from Jaime, and we were off to the

coast. We crossed over Santiam Pass and the clouds grew dense and snow

began to fall. As we dropped down into the valley this became a steady and

constant downpour. We stopped briefly in Salem for dinner and the sun made an

appearance. We reached the coast in time for a beautiful sunset and got our

room assignments at the beach house where we were staying. I knew it would

be an early morning so I turned in not long after our arrival.

I was surprised by my alarm. Surprised mainly because I slept good and hard.

Usually before a race I have trouble sleeping. Perhaps I should have taken this

as an omen. I showered, loaded everything up, and was out of the door and on

the road by 5 a.m. A couple of Cliff bars and a stop at Dutch Bros. in Newport

and I was heading down the coast through an intermittent rain. The drive was

beautiful, peaceful, and got me in the right mind frame for the race. I arrived at

the transition area just after registration opened and got my packet. I went back

to the car and swapped out the wheels on my bike. I put on my timing chip and

slapped the race numbers on my bike and helmet. I gathered up everything I

needed and made my way to the athlete’s entrance.

While I was waiting in line to get marked I heard my number called and was

asked to report to the registration table. I walked up to the table, bike and gear in

hand and was told that I’d been given the wrong chip. A lady came around the

table and took the chip off my ankle while the other handed me my correct chip.

My hands were full so I jammed the chip in my sweats and walked back to the

entrance where the line had grown considerably. I waited patiently until it was

my turn to get marked. I made my normal smart ass remark to the lady about

enjoying the fact that she gets to tell all the guys to take off their shirt and drop

their pants. I got the obligatory blush and chuckle and got cleared to head into

the transition area.

Some races have specific areas for your stuff based on your number. Others are

a catch as catch can. This race had the latter type of transition area so I tried to

find a place where it would be easy to spot my bike as I was coming out of the

water. I found a good spot and started laying things out. I got everything just so

and then pulled my wetsuit out of the transition bag. Now the fun would begin. I

stripped down to just my racing suit and threw my sweatshirt and sweats into my

transition bag. As I was ready to start wiggling my way into my wetsuit a squall

came through and with it a deluge of rain. It’s interesting enough when you’re

dry and try to work your way into a wetsuit. It’s even more comical when you’re

watching a group of soaking wet athletes try and pull on their wetsuits. Let’s just

say that Miley Cyrus could have learned a thing or two about twerking had she

been in that transition area.

Finally encased like a sausage, I made my way to Woahink Lake. It had been

almost eight months since I had swam in a lake. In that time I had forgotten just

how cold lakes in Oregon could get. This one was around 55 degrees. Yes, it

was downright frigid. I started slowly plunging my face into the water to get

adjusted to the temperature so my chest wouldn’t tense up. Blair, the race

director mentioned something about timing chips and my stomach immediately

sank. I pictured the timing chip, still in the pocket of my sweats - the sweats that

were in the bottom of my transition bag. I immediately pushed my goggles up,

ran up the ramp, and headed as fast as I could to the transition area. Apparently

I wasn’t the only one as there were two other people hot on my tail. I ran into the

transition area, found my bag and ripped it open. I located my sweats and dug

into the front pocket. No chip. Damn! Thankfully when I jammed my hand into

the other pocket I found the chip. I slipped it around my ankle and stuffed

everything back into my transition bag.

As I ran out of the transition area I grabbed my goggles and pulled them down

over my eyes. As I went to let go I felt the goggles separate at the bridge of the

nose. Are you kidding me?! Frantically I ran over to the registration tent. I knew

I had another pair of goggles in my bag but I wasn’t sure how long it would take

me to dig them out of the bottom of the bag. At the registration desk I found a

straight pin and pinned my goggles together. I pulled them over my eyes and

tested them – they seemed to hold. I heard the race director begin the

countdown. There was no time to waste. I dashed back to the boat ramp.

Originally I envisioned spending time in the water before the race. I would

visualize the race. Visualizing myself using cam and steady strokes. I would say

a little prayer and think of my friends and love ones no longer with me. I would

ask for their strength and guidance during the race. I would remind myself to not

only survive the swim but to thrive in the swim.

As I sprinted back to the lake I realized that none of my plan was going to

materialize. I began to wonder if I would even be able to complete the race. I

had no time to test my goggles and since I wear contacts, just going without

goggles was not an option. Adrenaline was ramping up at a time when I wished I

could be centered and calm. I rounded the corner and headed down the ramp, 5,

4, 3, 2, 1, the crowd roared and a gun went off. I hit the water and dove right into

the middle of the melee.

I have related before that the start of an open water swim is not for the faint of

heart. It’s messy. Arms and legs are flailing about. It’s a writhing mass of black

neoprene coming at you from all angles.

The Olympic start had all the racers beginning at once so it was a large group

that started. Because of the layout of the course, the beginning chute was

narrow and forced all of the swimmers into a very small space. When I hit the

water I was in the middle of a racing frenzy. Immediately I had arms and legs

coming at me from all sides. I struggled to get my bearings in all the splashing

and air bubbles. As I raised my head to sight the buoy I took a hard ankle to my

left temple. All of the sudden colors were swirling and I was seeing stars. I

stopped swimming though my head was doing a bang up job of the Australian

crawl. As I struggled to mentally right myself I felt a heavy weight on my

backside. I felt myself violently pushed to the bottom of the lake. I tried to get

my head back up to the surface but felt myself pushed down by another swimmer

coming over the top of me. All thoughts of the race vanished as I began to panic

and swallow water. The fight or flight syndrome took over and I started punching

and thrashing wildly. I didn’t care whom I hit or hurt, I needed to get my head

above the surface and breathe some air. I dug my feet into the mud and rose up

to the surface. My head was spinning and I was choking and sputtering water.

As swimmers bumped by me I coughed up some water and was thankful I didn’t

puke. I let a few swimmers pass me and then I started the swim stroke again. It

took me awhile to get comfortable and even then I still had to stop, center myself,

relax, and then start up again. The swim was two laps and required us to swim a

lap, run out of the lake, round a pylon, and then run back into the water and

complete the second lap. I would have loved to see my splits between the laps

as I felt my second lap was so much faster and comfortable than my initial lap.

During the swim it had rained off and on so I discovered when I emerged from

the water and ran into transition that all my things – gloves, socks, windbreaker,

were soaked to the gills. I made the decision to go minimal and just threw on my

socks and gloves and hopped on the bike. I raced out of the transition area and

made my way out onto the racecourse. I decided to get a quick drink from my

nutrition bottle. Refreshed, it was time to start hammering at the ride. I reached

down to put the nutrition bottle back into the bottle cage. As I made a connection

with the cage I felt the water bottle (which was also wet) slip through my already

wet gloves. Before I could grab it tight it fell out onto the road and rolled down a

steep ravine. Every mental explicative went through my head at the moment.

No use crying over spilled nutrition. There was nothing I could do now. I knew

that there would be a feed station at mile 18 so it was time to just put the head

down and ride. Hills came and went, as did other riders. I rode a tightrope

between riding too hard and not riding hard enough. I was a bit unclear on how

the lack of nutrition would affect my race so I probably played things a bit too

conservatively. Mile 18 came at the highest point in the race. I grabbed a bottle

of Heed and headed back downhill toward the transition area. I felt comfortable

and finally felt confident enough to air things out a bit and push myself on the last

bit of the bike. I came into the bike transition feeling pretty good about things. I’d

passed quite a few riders and felt like I still had enough gas in the tank to put

forth a pretty good run.

I slipped on my wet running shoes and sloshed out onto the trail. The run

consisted of two loops along a trail system that threaded through some dense

forest areas. It was a mix of rolling hills with a steep portion over the highway. It

was fun to run through a canopy of trees and bushes. I found a good rhythm and

started slowly pushing the pace. I passed a couple of runners and completed my

two laps. From there the final portion of the run weaved along an inlet and came

out onto the dunes for the final literal and figurative push. The last bit of the

triathlon involved running up a steep dune to the finish line. Talk about a final

push! Given everything I had gone through that steep climb to the end seemed

pretty appropriate.

The race was done. I made my way down the steep dune and worked my way

over to the feed tent. It was great to get some food into my belly. What made it

even better was the fact that it was fresh Oregon clam chowder. I chatted with a

couple of athletes from the Oregon State triathlon club and then walked over to

check my results. I didn’t have any preconceived notions and after all that had

happened I was happy just to have finished. I scrolled down the list and was

pleased to discover that I didn’t have to scan too far. More surprising I

discovered that I actually won my age group! I was thrilled that I got a chance to

podium – and in the true dunes fashion it meant one final climb up the dunes to a

‘podium’ constructed on the side of the dune. As I shook the hand of the third

place finisher I thought about what an odd race I had completed. It was

frustrating. It was thrilling. It was also downright scary. The photographer asked

us to pose with our arms raised. The gentleman that finished second was not

present so there was an opening on our podium. I thought that more than likely a

certain Murphy was raising his imaginary hands there along with us. He had

definitely been quite present throughout the race and had been an ever-present

partner. I was just glad that I had finished slightly ahead of him!