Anyone who’s read me
with any constancy knows that I lean towards the
tongue-in-cheek take on most things. I’ll apologize in
advance to my seven fans who’ve come to expect that because
I just don’t think I can go that route this time. It was
too big day – too emotional to make light of.
Last year was
intense as well. Watching Pete, believing he was going to
win and then realizing it wasn’t to be his day was also
emotionally draining but this year was different. As a
volunteer, out there from beginning to end, I was opened up
to so many different stories, both happy and sad, that I
have to say the experience was truly overwhelming.
The day started out
for us on the paddle boards. As I said before, I was
nervous – really nervous. It turned out I had a right to be
even though the water was much calmer than when I’d tried
the board a few days earlier.
The cannon went off
and the pros were launched. It was time for T-Mac, Peter
and myself to take our position. We paddled out in front of
the group. Lord, what a feeling. All the athletes, the
helicopters, the paddlers and boats – then there was us just
floating a hundred meters in front of all those nervous
people in empty water.
The
cannon went for a second time and the day was started. I
stayed about seventy five meters to Peter’s left for a few
hundred meters before it hit me – I was not fit enough to
maintain this pace for the 55 minutes the leaders would take
to do the course. As the mass of swimmer slowly began to
over take me I listed off toward the beach and let them go
by. I looked back and saw T-Mac had done the same. From
then on in we paddled beside the mass of churning arms and
just tried to keep people from going too far off course. It
is amazing how many people can not, nor make any effort to
sight. They just b-line away and keep going. We shepherded
the herd as best we could and after what seemed an eternity
(I was really starting to suffer from a lack of fitness) we
reached the boat turn-around and started for home. I know
that I was as grateful as any of the athletes out there to
get there.
It was then that I
came up on a woman back stroking and heading out to Japan.
It was clear she didn’t have the use of her legs. There was
a young man swimming with her and he was using hand signals
to point her in the right directions but I think her goggles
were so fogged up she was having a hell of time seeing the
signal. After a spell the effort was too much and she sat
up and called for help. Her friend took hold of her and I
paddled over. I told her to rest on the board and she did.
She told me her name was Trish and that she just needed to
cough out some salt water. We’ve all done a little back
stroke in our time. Can any of you reading this imagine how
much of that gut wrenching water she must have taken in?
After a few seconds she said she was good and started up
again. I stayed with the two as she battled every meter of
the way. It was hard and she was human. She was frustrated
and hurting but she kept going. I felt ashamed at how
grumpy I had been getting on the paddle board. Every
hundred meters or so she’d need the board, not to rest, but
to just put a hand on it and cough out more water. Soon we
could hear the music and see the crowds. The intervals
between board time grew shorter and shorter but still she
never rested. She’d grab the board, cough and carry on. I
stayed beside her into the chute. The time, was 1:48. I
challenge anyone to go to the pool, wrap your ankles and
swim a hundred meters back stroke – extrapolate and be
amazed.
To
say it was an emotional moment to see her carried out of
the water would be an understatement titanic proportions. I
would be watching for her all day but sadly I didn’t see her
again. With a little Googling I figured out that her name
was Trish Downing and it looks like she did not finish the
bike. I sure hope she gets out there and tries again.
She’s a hero to me.
From there I headed
back out and kept people in line as best I could until the
Hoyts came in. After two hours and forty five minutes on
the board we finally exited the water. I couldn’t raise my
hands over my head.
Now we had a few
hours to kill before we needed to be out at the Energy Lab
so we went for a bagel and a cup of coffee in the King Kam
hotel. The effort of the boarding overtook me and I had to
find a quiet corner to lay down in. I was out hard! About
thirty minutes later I came to, with drool rolling down my
cheek. I looked up and there was Pete fast asleep in an
adjacent corner.
After we managed to shake off the cobwebs we went out to the
Palani corner and watched the cyclists come in and the
runners going out. I’m not going to spend a lot of time
talking about the logistics of the race. There’ll be plenty
of that out there with out me recapping it but I have to
comment on Norman’s bike - 4:18!!!! Sweet Mercy! He
looked good running out – focused and strong! Roch Frey and
Heather Fuhr joined us for a bit. It was heart breaking to
see how disappointed Heather was in herself. Things had
started out badly and she knew this was not to be her day.
She has nothing to be ashamed of. She’s given herself to
this sport long enough. Whatever she decides to do from
here on is she has earned ten fold.
So
we stood on a rock wall and shouted at
our friends until the our voices were raw and it was time to
head out to the Energy Lab. We hadn’t seen LB yet and that
really saddened us. You realize, when you really think
about it, that when you’re close to someone and they’re
having a bad day, you don’t really care what their time or
placing is – you care that they’re having a bad day. You
care that they might be in pain and suffering out there.
That’s what you think about. That’s what I was thinking
about and I know it’s what Pete was thinking about.
We arrived out at
the Energy Lab and I have to say I was a little disappointed
it wasn’t hotter out there. I wanted it to be an epic hard
day. I would have to settle for cool and fast.
Norman came in
looking as good as he did leaving T2. We cheered hard and
waited. Seven or eight minutes later, Macca came in. He
looked stronger, but strong enough? Then the came one at a
time and we tried to find something to do.
At first it was a
little difficult. There were so many volunteers, we felt a
bit unnecessary. We cheered on the pro men. My buddy Brian
Rhodes came by and was a little surprised to see me out
there. He laughed hard – “Christ mate, this hurts like a
son of a bitch!” He laughed again and kept on going. Good
on ya, Rhodesy!
Our friend Mike Neil
rolled through with a shake of his head. Hawaii hurts.
After awhile you start to add up the missing names. Each
one makes you a little sad – Tissink, Tom Evans, Hellreigel.
As the Norman exited
the station he still looked strong and focused. Pete
figured if Macca wasn’t there in the next four minutes it
was Norman’s to lose. Macca showed up four minutes and
thirty two seconds later. It was one of the few predictions
that either of us made that turned out true – although he
did call the Ficker race.
After the men left
the station, we decided to move to the bottom and pick up
empty cups.
At this time the
women started coming. MJ didn’t look good but she was
focused and clearly not giving up. Some nine minutes later
Ficker ran by and then a wave of the best Iron chicks in the
world, one after another flew by. They all looked good –
especially Ficker and Bentley. Pete told Lisa she looked
good enough to win and to keep it going. Some fifteen or
twenty minutes later they came back, exiting the Energy
Lab. MJ still didn’t look too good – but then the rest of
the woman arrived and the Energy Lab had clearly taken its
toll. With the exception of Ficker the woman all looked
like they’d taken a hit. Bentley had fallen from third to
fourth and the trade mark grimace had turned into full faced
pain. We were pleased to learn she would later re-find her
stride and run back into third. Yay, Canada and Yay Lisa!!!
Soon the age
groupers started to roll in and that’s when the work
started.
I must say, the VAST
majority of people coming through were grateful for our
support and made that clear – but there was one window and
one group that was nearly insufferable and that was the men
who were shooting for around the ten hour mark. I can’t
tell you how many of those dudes were straight up pricks –
yelling, cursing, throwing things at you. It was shocking.
Lots
of people stopped to shake Pete’s hand. He was great with
everyone. One guy jammed his finger down his throat to make
himself sick. After the splooch he spotted Pete, marched
right over and shook his hand. Pete shook it – then washed
his hand. One guy knew Pete was going to be there and had
carried a disposable camera the whole way out there to
capture the moment. That’s a fan. Lucky Pete wasn’t in the
crapper at the time. Another guy ran by and then five
minutes later returned with his wife and a camera for a
photo op. Lots of people stopped to talk. Michelle would
still be there if Pete hadn’t finally put a hand on her back
and given her a gentle push – “You’re in a race. Keep
moving!”
After a few hours of
picking up garbage we took over the first water table as the
athletes exited the Lab. Pete stood point offering water
and ice. I kept the cups full and T-Mac picked up the few
people who got past Pete without getting water. There were
very few of those. T-Mac and I subbed back and fourth but
Pete stood point the whole shift.
As
the hours rolled by the flow began to thin but the need for
aid grew for those that did arrive. Many of the volunteers
had begun to fade and soon the three of us were meeting the
runners as they entered the station and walking with them
right through. These athletes do not want volunteers
yelling in their faces “WATER, ICE, COLA!!” That want to
talk about how they’re going to make it. You can see the
pain, suffering and doubt on their faces and how a few
heartfelt, encouraging words meant so much, often resulting
in tears. I only had to put one guy in a medical van.
Everyone else kept on going. The human spirit was well
displayed out there. It was also at this time that Peter’s
presence was really felt. You could it see it in the eyes
as they shuffled in, staring down at the pavement, wondering
how the hell they were gonna keep going another seven
miles. More often then not Pete would be there with the
water, they’d take it and thank him, then almost as an after
thought look up at the volunteer who was walking with them.
Realization would fill their faces and they’d light right
up. It was miraculous how many people lifted their feet and
started running. It was a good thing. Pete gave water to
one lady and as she carried on I saw her stop and grab her
knees. I came up to her and asked if there was anything I
could get for her. She said she just didn’t know if she
could go on. I told her she’d just gotten water from former
champ Peter Reid and that had to be worth another
mile. She stood up, looked back, saw it was Peter and began
to cry. “Peter Reid is my hero! I can’t believe he saw me
like this!” I told her she was Peter’s hero and to stay in
motion. She took off jogging. As the night wore on fewer
and fewer people came. About fifteen minutes went by with
no one coming in. Then someone shouted out that was it.
Anyone coming in now would not make the cut-off. We agreed
to wait until a particularly amusing fellow with a jersey
that said, “Hi, I’m Sammy” came back out and then we’d call
it a night. Sammy, it turns out, is the president of the
Florida Marlins. Probably not too many major league
baseball presidents slugging it out on the lava fields – or
any fields for that matter. He was quite the character and
had us all chuckling. Sammy came and went and still no one
else came in. We waited another five minutes then pulled
the pin.
We
regaled each other with our favorite stories from the day as
we walked up the Queen K in the pitch black to get back to
our van. T-Mac asked Pete the same question that so many
people had asked him all day – “Did you wish you were out
there?” Pete thought for a moment then said “Not today.
Really, what does it matter? If I miss it too much, I’ll
just come back and do it again.” It was a good answer.
We decided to grab a
six pack and go to the finish line to watch some of the
friends we’d made cross the line. We sat on the sea wall
for an hour and did a little decompressing. We saw Sammy (I
would learn later his real name was David Sampson) finish
with a big smile. He finished strong. I saw the woman who
said Pete was her hero and the fellow who had to jam his
finger down his throat. Everyone was there and the emotion
of it all, paired with the bone level fatigue was almost too
much.
My only regret of
the day was learning that Sister Madonna Bruder came through
the station about five minutes after we left. I should like
to have seen her. She’s been an icon in the sport since my
first race in 1984.
What a Kodak moment
– the final finisher with 53 seconds to go.
We finished our six
pack and rolled home. What a day.
This morning started
out with the three amigos heading down to Lava Java to enjoy
several cups of coffee.
It was extremely
gratifying to have a steady stream of finishers approach us
to say how much it meant for them to have Pete out there the
night before. Sure made it worth while. We saw Norman
sitting with his friends. He didn’t look as tired as we
did.
Congratulations Norm
and Michellie and to EVERYONE who finished yesterday!!!
Maybe
next year I’ll try to do the thing rather than volunteer. I
think it’d be a lot easier.
Thanks for reading.
