A High Five to Remember

I was very upset. I had been out on my bike for almost six hours due to the flat tire complication earlier in the race. It was hot and windy and I was showing all signs of quiting. The idea that I was not going to win my race set in as I rolled slowly over the parking lot speed bumps where T2 awaited me. In my mind it was the finish line.



As I got off the bike my anger set in deeper and I briskly walked my bike to my space on the rack. My cleats were stomping the pavement so hard it is a wonder that they didn't crack. Once to the rack I immaturely slammed my bike down and dropped my head. Below me I could see all the stuff in my see through bag that I had placed there the day before. It looked so prepared and ready for me. The bag emitted a sadness and disappointment that I showed up so late for our date.



I sat on the scorching hot asphalt for a while. The burning on my thighs was no where near the mental pain I was feeling at the time. I was approached about my situation and encouraged to move on. A marathon? What is the point of running a marathon now?



You could say that I gained fitness for completing my race. Or you could say that I built another 26.2 miles of character. There were many things that I received that day for finishing, but only one of them was a "gift."



I had run my first of a three loop run course. I was now headed towards the finish area where you looped around to head back out. I think most people that were watching me specifically, were wondering if I would go on. Was I just out to run one loop and then call it a day? I knew on a very deep inner level right after my first step that I was going to complete this thing. What I was going to get out of it was still uncertain.



As I continued my loop through the transition area I could hear a familiar voice yelling. It was loud and silenced all other sounds competing with it. I couldn't understand what was being said but I knew with out a doubt that it was the voice of my father. I looked up and didn't see him among the crowd of spectators that were lining the course. I was on a 50 meter stretch that took you back out to the corner where you began loop 2. As I approached that corner his voice became louder and louder but still there were no words.



Not knowing where his voice was coming from or what it was saying, I just looked down and kept running. But then, in an instant, all I remember was my hand rising up. For the first time I could make out the words. "YOUR GONNA DO THIS! YOU'RE GONNA DO THIS, RIGHT?" His voice was so alive and energetic. Everything had slowed down to a euphoric pace and I could now see him and the extend arm that must have caused mine to rise. He became silent and just stood there with his hand in the air. Everything was going so slow, the crowd was dissolving in my mind and all I could see was my dad standing there. My vision became so heightened that I could almost make out the lines in his palm. There was something peculiarly insecure about his arm even as it reached out to me with it's strength and confidence. What was happening? What was he trying to say?



My body and mind was being overtaken by emotion. It wasn't emotion from the race. It was our emotion. Our past, present and future was getting ready to have the biggest moment of our lives. Our hands slapped with what one might assume to be an electric charge. It was more than that. It was real. And in that one very brief moment we had the most meaningful conversation that we have had in years.



I was forced to think about that race on a few occasions. I had to write about it and tell several people the story of the day. But honestly, I haven't given that race any thought since I crossed the line. All I have done is reflected on that one single moment that lasted for less than a second.



It is so interesting how the universe works. Here I thought I was going to California to try and win a race and prove my fitness. Little did I know that I would be going there receive the best gift of my life. A high five to remember.