Inspiration
I am not an Ironman. Probably never will be, especially if don't improve my swimming. But I am fascinated with the concept of the Ironman triathlon.
It seems so incomprehensible to me. Just consider it: 140.6 miles of heart-pounding, glycogen-depleting human locomotion.
Swim 2.4 miles. Heck, the 24 feet I swim across my pool is still a feat to me. Then bike 112 miles. I once did a century ride -- on a mountain bike, no less -- but I haven't biked anything near that distance in almost a decade. And then, just to laugh at the word moderation, run a full marathon. I've run 18 marathons in the last 10 years, but I've always started fresh. I can't imagine beginning -- beginning -- a marathon after having swum 2.4 miles and biked 112 miles.
So when NBC broadcasts an hour-and-a-half recap of the Ironman Championship in Kona, Hawaii, I'm planted in front of my TV. The annual telecast represents my most cherished moments of TV viewing every year. Apparently I'm not alone in my appreciation of the program; it has been rewarded with 13 Emmys over the years.
Besides the requisite reviews of the the winners' performances, the telecast always includes profiles of less-celebrated, though no-less-remarkable, triathletes.
Word can't do justice to the feature stories of Jonathan Blais, Sarah Reinertsen and Robert McKeague. Especially my words. So I'll borrow the brief descriptions found at IronmanLive.com.
Theirs are stories that inspire. The trials and tribulations I face in my marathon training, not to mention my everyday life, seem inconsequential in comparison to the obstacles these people face to pursue their dreams.
The fatigue I feel throughout my training and during my races is nothing compared to the emotional fatigue Blais must feel as he prepares for his ruthless disease to systematically incapacitatee him in the not-so-distant future.
The ankle and hip injuries I've dealt with in the last several months are nothing compared to what Reinertsen, who was born with a severe leg deformity that resulted in the amputation of her left leg above the knee at age seven, had to overcome just to get to the starting line.
And the apprehension I feel when I think that maybe I'm too old to take swim lessons and possibly consider participating in triathlons in the future? That's just silly. I'm not too old. McKeague showed me so.
It seems so incomprehensible to me. Just consider it: 140.6 miles of heart-pounding, glycogen-depleting human locomotion.
Swim 2.4 miles. Heck, the 24 feet I swim across my pool is still a feat to me. Then bike 112 miles. I once did a century ride -- on a mountain bike, no less -- but I haven't biked anything near that distance in almost a decade. And then, just to laugh at the word moderation, run a full marathon. I've run 18 marathons in the last 10 years, but I've always started fresh. I can't imagine beginning -- beginning -- a marathon after having swum 2.4 miles and biked 112 miles.
So when NBC broadcasts an hour-and-a-half recap of the Ironman Championship in Kona, Hawaii, I'm planted in front of my TV. The annual telecast represents my most cherished moments of TV viewing every year. Apparently I'm not alone in my appreciation of the program; it has been rewarded with 13 Emmys over the years.
Besides the requisite reviews of the the winners' performances, the telecast always includes profiles of less-celebrated, though no-less-remarkable, triathletes.
Word can't do justice to the feature stories of Jonathan Blais, Sarah Reinertsen and Robert McKeague. Especially my words. So I'll borrow the brief descriptions found at IronmanLive.com.
John Blais, who completed the Ford Ironman World Championship despite the
fact that he suffers from ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, better known
as Lou Gehrig's disease).
Sarah Reinertsen, whose story brought a tear to the eyes of everyone who watched last year when she missed the bike cut off in Kona. This year she finished the race in dramatic fashion.
Robert McKeague, the amazing 80-year-old who became the oldest man
to complete an Ironman race.
Theirs are stories that inspire. The trials and tribulations I face in my marathon training, not to mention my everyday life, seem inconsequential in comparison to the obstacles these people face to pursue their dreams.
The fatigue I feel throughout my training and during my races is nothing compared to the emotional fatigue Blais must feel as he prepares for his ruthless disease to systematically incapacitatee him in the not-so-distant future.
The ankle and hip injuries I've dealt with in the last several months are nothing compared to what Reinertsen, who was born with a severe leg deformity that resulted in the amputation of her left leg above the knee at age seven, had to overcome just to get to the starting line.
And the apprehension I feel when I think that maybe I'm too old to take swim lessons and possibly consider participating in triathlons in the future? That's just silly. I'm not too old. McKeague showed me so.
posted by RTG at 6:26 PM
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