Walk, Don’t Run

“Are you going to sign up for Canada for next year after the race?” Don and I were riding side-by-side through JBLM on the Saturday morning club ride. Even though it’s mid-August, we have wind jackets on, against the morning chill. I bet they get a longer summer in the Yukon than we had this year.

“No, Al, I think this is it. This is the end of my Ironman career.”

“You really mean that? Why?”

“It’s just too much time, I just can’t stand walking that much. How much do you run every week, getting ready for your races?” he asked.

“Oh, maybe 3 to 5 hours, depending on the time of year.”

“Well, double or triple that for me.”

We rode on in silence a while.

Don mused again: “You know, I do these little sprints, the Triple Threat, and there are people laughing at me while I’m walking. I don’t mind, but it just makes me think whether I want to do it that bad.”

“Why don’t you just tell them, ‘Hey, I’m 66, and I’m out here and you’re not!’”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t think of that right off, I mean about my age. I just think about how much work it is to train so I can walk that fast – it takes more time than running.” We pedaled a bit more past the exit gate. “Yeah, I just can’t see myself saying, ‘So what if I’m old and don’t have any cartilage on my knee anymore.’”

“Are you going to do any half-ironmans, do you think? Are you going to do the Aqua-Bike at the Grand Columbian?”

“Oh, yeah, I wouldn’t miss that one – I love that race.”

“Too bad there aren’t really any relays for Ironman. Except I think maybe Silverman down in Las Vegas has one. But who wants to just run a marathon?”

“Oh, I’m not going to give it up – I love it too much?”

“Love what?”

“Triathlon. The lifestyle.”

“What’s that mean, lifestyle?” I know what it means to me. It means daily planning to fit in 2 hours plus or minus of what some people view as excessive exercise, what we view as “training”. It means eating right away after working out, and paying attention to getting enough of what most people are avoiding in their diets. It means have a room full of workout gear and clothes, owning 8 pairs of running shoes (14 if you count the ones at work and in my Colorado house), 5 pairs of cycling shoes, 4 wetsuits, 7 bikes, and God knows how many technical tee shirts from this race or that. It means obsession about weight, and reveling in the fitness of my body. It means getting a chance to run or ride or race with people I would never dream of seeing in another context. And being outside in all weathers, and all times of the year. That, and so much more is what I knew.

Don said, “Well, it’s the people mostly. I just like being with people to swim and bike, and I wish I could run with them.” But he can’t, not any more, not after all these years, when his knees have finally and completely ground down to bone-on-bone. He’s tried injections, physical therapy, orthotics, pain medicines, different shoes, and it finally came down, in the last year, to race-walking. 26.2 miles, 15 minutes a mile, as fast as he can go. He just can’t pound down on his legs anymore.

But he’s still out there, still showing up every day, still fit as a fox and trying to pick up every women he sees, and he’s racing at Ironman Canada next weekend, with no hope for a podium spot, much less a Kona slot, even in the small group of 25 guys he’ll be racing against at his age.

At the end of today’s shakedown cruise, I tell him the truth: he looks awful good on his bike, and should think about going faster than the 6 hours and 40 minutes he has planned. No reason to hold back, if he doesn’t have to run afterwards. We should all be so lucky.