7 p.m., Saturday August 29th….it’s the night before race day. In the morning I will gather with 2600 of my closest friends on the edges of Lake Okanagan where at 7 a.m. we’ll begin our 140.6 mile adventure through the beautiful British Columbia countryside. I survey the room for the 100th time, ensuring everything is in its place for the 5 a.m. wake up call. Race kit? Check… breakfast? Check… bottles for the bike? Check… girlfriend digging into her book and preparing for the early night? Check.
With everything indeed in its rightful home I slip into bed and attempt to focus some aimless attention toward the T.V. We find My Cousin Vinny playing on one of the local channels and settle on it with hopes that there’s no chance I make it to the credits and in no time we’ll be greeted by race day morning….. wait, Race Day? You mean as soon as I shut my eyes and drift off it will be the morning of race day? The day I’ve been focused on for the last 7 or 8 months? Sweet, here goes my mind… looks like I’m taking in the entire show.
The riveting courtroom drama that is My Cousin Vinny wraps up with Marissa Tomei and Joe Pesci racing down a highway and I’m instructed to find “what’s next.” I keep it on the same channel hoping there’s another similar adventure to lose myself in… nope; just some “my space ship is better than your spaceship” show and at this point I could care less what’s on, just want the noise in the background. I hand the controls off, adjust the pillow and begin to fade.
At a moment of peace, knowing it’s 8:45 p.m. and I have plenty of time to fall asleep and get a full nights rest I notice the channel flipping has ceased and it looks as if we’re settling in on the next mindless adventure. The scene: opening credits to a deep ocean view… no or inaudible music…. Credits continue, both of us now anticipating the title of our next film de jour, the music begins and the volume slowly increases…. Fantastic, Kari has settled on JAWS.
After a moment of laughter the channel is changed and a more appropriate show is found. Now, with little interest in the happenings on the tube, I slowly begin to fall asleep with thoughts of race day still managing to slip through.
9:30 p.m….. not quite asleep, but close.
OK… I need you to close your eyes (fine, pretend they’re closed or have someone else read this paragraph to you), take yourself back to that Thursday night in college where it was time to take on the weekly tradition of Thirsty Thursday at your favorite get your groove on establishment. No doubt someone in your gaggle has just said something about them just wanting to DANCE and they had no care for any potential suitors this particular night. Now, find yourself at that moment where the bouncer has just checked your ID and without looking any where near your direction waves you through. You open the door and the latest, but freshly remixed by DJ Jazzy Jumper Cables, hit song greets you with profound concussion…. This is now my life. Club Doesn’t Give Hoot just opened their doors below us and for the next 5 hours my sleep will be thwarted by the styling’s of Mr. Jumper Cables and his wheels of steel.
After countless trips to the restroom and to the non-functioning air conditioner I re-position for what seems to be the 954th time (sorry Kari). I grab my phone to check the time, I have yet to fall asleep… the phone reads 2:30 a.m. Now I begin the “if I fall asleep now I can still get 2 and a half hour's of sleep” game. I do this for the next 2 hours and 15 minutes. Its 4:45 a.m. race day morning, now…. I just have to get up.
In my delusional state of consciousness I put on my race gear and attempt to throw down breakfast. With the first round of breakfast down I grab my special needs bags, my air pump and my nutrition to install on my bike then make for body marking and the special needs drop off all while convincing myself that I can indeed do this with no sleep.
Body marked, bike tires filled with air and special needs bags dropped I head back to the room to relax, grab some more calories and put on the wetsuit.
With my wetsuit on half way I take in the sunrise from the balcony….it beautifully calm. This is where I begin to not have the most accurate view of the day’s accounts. Kari steps out to the balcony with her camera to capture the morning and my preparations. I strongly believe my reaction was one of humor with the quip of “you can’t take my picture… my mouth is full” (must read in purely exceptional tone and timing)… later accounts have me “snapping” back with something along the lines of “don’t get me in the picture, I’m eating”…. I have requested the security tapes from the Lakeside Resort and Casino for further review.
Intermission
…. This is where Eric formulates the best possible jab for me writing a novel to this point and we haven’t even hit the water yet……….
To be continued….9/16
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You know my soul. After reading that, I feel like I deserve Ironman Reader status! ZING!
ReplyDeleteI want more Hemingway-like run on sentences that continue to spill across the page like a shallow pool of spilt whole milk flowing along a Sunday morning sunlit tabletop soaking into the soy based ecofriendly newsprint announcing the onset of the Canadian Ironman competition only to be finally absorbed by the slurping sound of the young athlete sucking in the forward path of the bovinic flow before it can fall, fitfully, sloppily into the neatly laid out cornucopia of sunlit race day equipment, paid for by the sweat of thousand of previous PowerBar consuming obsessives, thereby saving another pre race panic inducing moment of finding dry properly fitting suplinating or appropriately pronating cushioned marathon worthy footwear and finely logoed and colorful bikewear that both repels sunlight and allows hydrosynthesis, slurping and co-mingling with dry circular oat grain toasties in the restless belly of the 30 year old wetsuit wearing redhead who finally stands, confidently, diffidently looking over the railing of the cheap Canadian Casino Flophouse into the rising red Eastern orb that announces the beginning of the last day of the self inflicted great challenge while ingraciously wiping the white spittle from his grizzled chin thinking that he will announce to all who can hear from his balcony, 'We who are about to die, salute you' but before he can fill his lungs with adequate ash filled air, ash from the great BC wildfires of 2009, wildfires resulting from random lighting strikes that spark the scorched ravaged pine forest that have fallen victim to mans mistreatent of atmospheric balance through greed and selfishness, his queasiness and anxiousness overtake him with rational desires of Roman expression and betray him for the final time this day and all that emerges from his chapped quivering lips is a weak guttaral moan of 'I guess it's time to go swim' and he turns away from the fresh light of August's final sunrise and trudges, equipment in hand down the stark endless flourescent turbulence of a hallway toward the elevators to the ground floor, toward the race starting area, toward the teeming mass of competitors, toward his fears, toward an uncertain future that can only hold two outcomes, toward doom, riducule, quiet mocking, behind the back whispers of colleagues saying,'That's him, thats the guy I told you about, he couldn't do it", lifelong disappoint and second thoughts of what could have been if only I had trained harder, if only I had slept, if only I had.............
ReplyDeleteor toward glory.