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It was over dinner (likely something fried and fatty) that Jess Thornhill (a close college friend of Elana’s) eagerly suggested that I join her in an olympic-distance triathlon that she had already signed up for. The dinner was back in January so when Jess mentioned that race day was more than 6 long months away, I announced my resolution to join her (amid mouthfuls of tiramisu).

6 long months wound up being the shortest 6 months of my life and I was suddenly met (read: slapped in the face) with the sickening realization that I had inadvertantly adopted the minimalist approach to training, I was still eating tirimasu and I was not in the kind of shape one would expect of someone who was days away from swimming a mile, biking for 28 more miles and then (just for kicks) running 6.2 miles immediately after that. I was committed – race entrance fee paid, mine and Elana’s plane tickets in hand (the race was in Sunriver, Oregon) so there was no turning back. It was time to face the music and mine sounded eerily like the death-march!

24 hours before the starting gun: Jess (bless her heart) is something of a natural phenomenon. She seems to always have more energy than the Road Runner on Red Bull and this particular day was no exception. While I was secretly compiling last words and making sure my estate was in order, Jess was bouncing around in the back-seat of the car taking photo after photo of the stunning scenery we encountered between the drive from Portland to Sunriver and waxing poetic with Elana over their crazy college antics. I couldn’t even find solace in our good Aussie friends – Mandy and Dean Giblin – both of whom are racing machines who would consider a marathon more relaxing and therapeutic than a swedish massage! My lovely wife was, as always, about the only person who could relate to my internal agony but at my time of need I couldn’t even look her in the eyes for I knew that she was quietly as concerned as I was (hence the request…no…mandate that I get a full physical a week before race-day!)

12 hours before starting gun: Jess is already in bed and Mandy, Dean, Elana and I are chilling in the living room of our rustic cabin talking about anything but racing. I just want to digress for a second to tell you that Mandy and Dean are long-time close friends of mine from Tasmania who won the U.S. green card lottery which has enabled them to start and maintain a life in the U.S. They wisely chose Portland, Oregon (most beer micro-breweries in the country) as their stomping ground   [singlepic id="27" w="200" h="200" mode="" float="right" ] and they now have two of the cutest and most well-behaved kids I’ve ever met! – Hugh (2.5 yrs) and Clare (15 mths).  Something intriguing about these kids is their ability to remain quiet for prolonged periods of time and their eager and regular displays of affection whereby they will attach themselves to you (I’m talking full hugs!) before they even really get to know you. Clare’s picture here says it all.

1 hour before starting gun: For the first time since I’ve known Jess, she has been silent and appears nervous. At one point, as we were heading to the course start, Elana declared that she couldn’t wait for the race to be over so she’d have someone to talk to again!

 5 minutes before starting gun: Swimmers start in waves so Jess has already started at this point and I’m still nervously awaiting my gun.

  Bang!: As soon as I dove into the chilly 62 degree water I sensed that I was in for an internal mind-over-matter battle. Within the first few hundred meters, I began to struggle with my inability to draw enough oxygen and a panicky sensation quickly set in. At first I blamed the wetsuit (purchased by a younger, leaner me) which felt tight and strangulating around my neck but soon realized a combination of adrenaline, insufficient training and high-altitude were the real causes. It was at that point that I reminded myself that my goal was simply to finish. Don’t be a hero, have fun and cross the finish line with a pulse. With that in mind, I immediately relaxed and completed the 1 mile swim in a respectable 41min30sec (Jess’ time was 36min).

 The bike leg: As soon as my feet were on solid ground, I felt on top of the world…as if I’d already achieved my goal! The swim leg is usually the primary concern of every triathlete so as I ran up the concrete ramp toward the transition area, Elana noticed a visible change in my attitude. After stealing a quick kiss, I took my sweet time preparing myself for a scenic but gruelling (in 100 degree heat) 28 mile bike ride. I enjoyed the bike leg very much. Not much more to say other than the concern I felt as I watched an ambulance (with lights and siren blaring) whizzing by in the direction of the reservoir (more about that later). I completed the bike leg in 1hr49 min (Jess’ time was 1hr36).

 The run leg: If anybody were to ask me before the race what leg I was most confident to excel in…I wouldn’t have hesitated to say the run. I’ve ran many short-distance races, I’ve ran 5 half-marathons and I’ve ran a marathon. But nothing could have prepared me for the punishment that was awaiting me on the running course. Let me start by saying that I completed the run in a heart-wrenching 1hr18min (Jess’ time was 1hr4min). To put this into perspective, my average time to complete a 6 mile run would be 54min and my personal best was 45min. The heat overtook me nearly the instance I stepped off the bike! I generally don’t run well in hot weather and, though I had prepared myself with cap, shades and LOTS of liquids and gels…the sun taketh away what I puteth in! It was brutal. And to make matters worse, the running course was on searingly hot fresh (jet-black) pavement. I’m not kidding when I say that I could feel the heat through the thick rubber of my sneakers! Anyway…enough whining…I ran/jogged/walked my way to the welcoming sounds of clapping, cheering and Mandy informing me that they had setup a cold shower at the finish line. I was one happy camper to cross over the line and my fastest run time that day was achieved as I made my way from the finish line to the ice cold shower! After receiving my medal, Elana and I exchanged a few emotional words before Jess and I pigged out on the free grub – chicken, pasta, bread and salad. So there you have it…my journey from the initiation dinner to the deliverance dinner!

Ending on a sad note: the ambulance I spoke of during the bike leg was on its way to a swimmer who had gotten into trouble during the swim leg of my race. The triathlete – a 45 yr old man from Washington – was pronounced dead on his way to the hospital. His death was due to past health problems (nothing to do with the race) and, for me, serves as a humbling reminder that we’re all mortal and further confirms why I do these things. This guy died doing something he enjoyed…something that many wouldn’t conceive of attempting.

Pacific Crest Slideshow: