20 Days, 20 Pictures, 20 Stories: DAY 6

At first glance, today’s picture may seem odd.  Then, when I tell you it’s a picture of me during my senior year at West Point, you may immediately think I’m completely narcissistic.  Well, I’d like to convince you that it’s neither of those.  My point in today’s picture is to tell a brief story that’s evolved over the past 20 years.  This week, many from my graduating class from the United States Military Academy (USMA) will  gather at our hallowed institution to celebrate two decades since most of us completed our time at the academy, were commissioned second lieutenants in the Army, and went about to “do good” in the world, or so we thought.

I was especially grateful to graduate.  I was a very good student in high school, but struggled with academics at West Point.  I was constantly on the Dean’s “other list”.  At one very low point at the midway point of my junior year, I was certain my GPA did not justify my return back to school for the second semester.  Fortunately, some leaders at the Academy, “took a chance on me”, and I graduated within the 4-years allowed.   It wasn’t easy.  I had to attend summer school to make up two classes I failed and was overloading credit hours the second semester of my senior year to finish on time. 

I was commissioned a 2^nd lieutenant of Infantry office in May, 1990.  As an infantry officer, I was sent off to a series of schools in Fort Benning, GA such as the infantry officer’s basic course, airborne school, Ranger school and the Bradley Commanders’ course.  It was the middle of the night while preparing for a rubber boat assault mission in Ranger School that the first Gulf War month-long bombing campaign kicked off.  Suddenly, everything because hugely important in the military instruction.  I was thinking, “This really stinks.  I’m tired, cold and hungry (in Ranger School) and I’m going to graduate, then shipped overseas to be some dead lieutenant’s replacement!”

Fortunately, I suppose, the Desert Storm conflict was very short-lived and I was instead sent to my initial duty assignment where I meet my first platoon of infantry soldiers.  They had just come back from the conflict in Panama and they really didn’t want to listen to a “cherry” 2^nd lieutenant who thought he knew everything.  “Sir, that’s not how we did it in the war” referring to the even shorter conflict in Panama to oust General Noriega, was a common comment I would hear from the soldiers in my mechanized Infantry platoon.

I won’t belabor anyone with all the details of my seven years in the Army.  I enjoyed most of it.  Very proud to have served this great country and I personally think I am wiser because of it.  I have now been in Corporate America nearly double the amount of time I was in the Army.  I have had my ups and downs.  I have made money, lost money; made friends and have a ton of memories along the way.

So what is my point, you may be asking?  When I look at my Cadet Lieutenant picture from 1990, I know what I was thinking about; it was something along the lines of my eagerness to “conquer the world” in my own way.  But life has a way of sending most of us down different paths.  I have had many bumps along the way, made some dumb decisions, and maybe now that I’m older, it’s given me cause to reflect.  You see, in the Academy’s “perfect world” as a cadet, I perhaps wasn’t so prepared to deal with the “not so perfect world of real life” upon graduation.  However, West Point did instill in me a tremendous willingness and passion to never quit, always move steadily forward, and persevere.   West Point taught me that life is never a sprint.  Rather, life is a marathon with many miles along the way.

I think about where I am today.  I recall many of the principles I learned from college, from the Army, from business and from my family.  They have shaped me.  I would never have guessed I would be leading a non-profit organization 20 years beyond graduation.  Many of the classmates I’ll see this weekend are still on active duty in the Army.  Most have served in conflicts overseas.  Other classmates are leaders in all kinds of industries around the world.  I can’t tell you how excited I am to see many of them I haven’t seen in a very long time.

Shortly after I arrived to the Academy in July 1986, Lieutenant General Dave R. Palmer, changed the mission of the school from the building of leaders of the military to leaders of the nation.  I didn’t exactly know what that meant back then, but I certainly have a better idea today. 

So whatever you’re doing, whatever curve balls get thrown your way, my message today is that you realize that everything happens for a reason AND that everything that happens in your past prepares you for what lies ahead.  I am grateful for the many second chances I’ve gotten in life.  Many of our athletes can echo the same sentiment about their own lives.  I have learned, there is “life beyond limb loss” and there is “care beyond the chair”.

BEAT NAVY!

20 Days, 20 Pictures, 20 Stories: DAY 5

Debbie Kuhn called me early in 2010. She had heard about a triathlon camp for individuals with disabilities in Atlanta and she wanted to find out if this was something her son, Michael, could possibly attend. Michael, now in his early 30′s, was serving our country in the Navy about six years ago. He and a buddy were on shore-leave when an oncoming drunk driver swerved into their lane. Michael and his Navy buddy quickly jerked their car to the right to avoid the collision and they rolled into a ditch on the side of the road. Michael sustained severe trauma to his head and has since been diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury (TBI). The Kuhn’s lives were forever changed that night not to mention that our Navy lost a hugely talented computer techie too soon in his service to our nation. Debbie and Tom Kuhn, Michael’s parents, are their son’s full time caregivers now in Ocala, FL.

As Debbie was talking to me that one morning, I kept thinking I had heard her story before. It bugged me for a day or two before I finally realized that I had met the Kuhns about 2 years earlier at a sports camp for disabilities down in Tampa. At that camp, sponsored by the US Paralympic Committee, I had sat next to Debbie one of the days of camp for lunch. I am fortunate to meet a lot of interesting people every day for the past four years so it’s not necessarily odd that I would not have immediately put Michael Kuhn’s inquiry about our paratriathlon camp in full context. But two days later, I recalled vividly the question Debbie had asked me that day: “Do you think Michael could ever participate in a triathlon?”

Life has a funny way of coming full circle, doesn’t it? Now, I am not going to put a nice satin bow on this story and tell you that Michael came to the camp, he excelled at swimming, handcycling and the racing wheelchair events…..and that was the platform that launched him into a multisport lifestyle. But Michael DID excel at many areas of our camp curriculum, was loved by everyone attending, and we will continue to check in the Kuhns from time to time.

I have two really good memories from this year’s camp as it relates to Michael. First, one of my West Point classmates came down to a VIP-session at this year’s camp during the second day of training. My classmate holds a very high-level role with a financial services company that keeps him very busy. But he came down to the camp for about 30 minutes mostly to support my efforts and those efforts of other classmates of ours who were helping out at volunteers. As my classmate, “Eric”, observed training, we took special note of Michael’s progress in the swimming pool. And while we watched Michael, I watched Eric. I could see the impact was resonating and he left that morning with a very different perspective on things than when he walked in the aquatics area that morning. Eric remains a keen supporter of G2T and is an advocate for us on a very world-wide stage now.

My second memory is of Debbie Kuhn. When we talked a couple of times before the camp by phone, our biggest concern was that we had not worked with any TBI campers before. We had lots of experience with limb loss, paralysis or spinal cord injuries. We did, however, make a pretty extensive search for volunteers who had that level of experience. We were fortunate that Elizabeth Jackson, a student in northeast Georgia in a physical therapy program, was available to help. Elizabeth spends much of her clinical school work with stroke victims. Michael’s injuries are very similar to classic stroke victims. Second, swim coach, Robin Gerndt, is a longtime friend of mine who I met years ago while taking a Masters Swim program in Atlanta. Robin’s full-time job was teaching elementary school children who are autistic. Between Robin and Elizabeth, we had the perfect team of individuals to assist with Michael’s swim instruction. I already knew we had similar expertise in the handcycle and racing chair curriculum with Patrick Doak and Rafy Ibarra. My memory however is that every time I saw Debbie at the camp, her eyes were watery and she couldn’t have been happier. She told me Michael was doing more physically at our camp than he had done for the past six years back in Florida!

So with a somewhat sigh of relief, I was excited that we made camp a positive experience in the lives of a very special family and an American veteran. The focus on preparation remains paramount in our planning for future camps and events mostly due to this example of its impact.

20 Days, 20 Pictures, 20 Stories: DAY 4

I have a wonderful mother, Carol Fuller Lenhart, that I love dearly.  I call her frequently.  Dad has even gotten to the point where if he answers the phone he just right away hands it to Mom.  I am not ashamed to say I am a “momma’s boy”!  But if I ever had the opportunity to have a Mother #2, I know exactly who it would be:  MaryNell Gunter, mother to one of my heroes, Jason Gunter, from Fort Meyers, FL.

I first met MaryNell about the middle of last year.  I was working with Jason Gunter in his preparation for the Ironman World Championship.  We picked out several races along the way, one of which was in Clearwater Beach, FL at Sand Key State Park.  MaryNell always the most positive, upbeat person in the room.  She had lots of questions, lots of comments, and a genuine concern that Jason was getting all the best training assistance possible.  I promised her we would always give Jason 110% effort!

I love today’s picture.  In the weaning hours of the race at Kona last October, things seemed very bleak to Team Gunter….but not to MaryNell.  I was not present during this picture.  Rather, I was out on the Queen K Highway, the darkest road known to mankind, I believe….looking for Jason at mile marker 24….then mile marker 23…before finally coming up on him shortly before mile marker 23.  He was the image of pure exhaustion, having a hundred mile stare in his eyes, using every ounce of muscle to inch forward along the run route.  He finally collapsed, leaving no one there questioning if this man had given it his ALL.

Back near mile marker 25 however, MaryNell Gunter, continued to hold the banner she hoped would carry Jason that last mile towards the finish line at the world’s greatest triathlon.  She, too, had that hundred mile stare, every watchful of each runner who was coming around the bend in the road.  Team Gunter never got to see Jason round that corner. 

It was a difficult night nearly a year ago.  Lots of tears.  But lots of pride in a husband, friend and son who accomplished what many perhaps thought he couldn’t do.  MaryNell remains the champion, every cheerful in the background, and one of the greatest advocates not just for Jason but for anyone who toes up to the start line.

Most of the stories you’ll read for this “20/20/20″ campaign have a definitive ending.  This one, however, remains unfinished.  Just ask MaryNell Gunter.

Thanks, Momma MaryNell!

20 Days, 20 Pictures, 20 Stories: DAY 3

Pictured in today’s image is first year camper, Janie Wiltshire, from Edisto Beach, South Carolina.  The joy on her face says a lot about how much she values living an active lifestyle.  Janie lost her leg when she was 5 years old, nearly 45 years ago.  Her mom, named “Minnie“, was not one to give Janie any sympathy. As a child, Minnie was very instrumental in teaching Janie to walk properly in her prosthetic leg.  Still today, Janie can hear her mother’s voice saying, “Walk right…stand up straight….look up”.  Minnie passed away at a very young age many years ago from cancer.

A couple months ago, Janie was visiting ProCare Prosthetics in Buford, GA.  Since I’ve known her, Janie has told me she has the “Vega” of prosthetics…referring to the age and relic of a prosthesis she’s been wearing for many, many years.  Mostly relying on faith, Janie took my recommendation and decided to let Stephen Schulte at ProCare give her some thoughts on a new leg.  She came down from S. Carolina on a Thursday and spent most of the day discussing options with Stephen.  On that Friday morning, Stephen began the process of constructing a new leg for her.  This new leg will have much more advanced technologies with things like elevated vacuum suction, titanium construction, a specially designed liner, and overall better design for comfort.   Janie will have numerous changes to adjust to as she transitions from the old technology.

That same Friday, Janie eagerly and cautiously put on the new leg under the watchful eye of Stephen.  Normally, patients put their new legs on then walk along a short path in the treatment room that has guide rails along each side so the individual can catch themselves if he or she falls.  Guide rails were not an option for Janie.  She instead decided she would test drive her new leg by walking down the hallway.

With her back to Stephen, Janie walked down the hallway, keeping in mind the words from her mother years ago.  She walked right; she stood up straight; she looked up.   As she walked down the hallway, Stephen picked up his cellphone from his pocket to answer a call.  The phone was on vibrate, so Janie didn’t hear it ring.  Stephen saw the caller ID and answered, “Hello, Minnie…”.  Minnie Schulte is Stephen’s youngest daughter and Janie had no idea the names of any of the Schulte children.

Janie shuddered in the hallway and nearly fell over. Goose bumps were across her arms.   “Minnie“, she thought, was as if Stephen had seen the ghost of her mother standing there in the hallway while Janie tried out the new leg. 

Obviously, Janie’s mother Minnie, was not there in the hallway……or was she?

Believe what you want.  I quit thinking there were coincidences in life a long time ago!

20 Days, 20 Pictures, 20 Stories: DAY 2

We had an incredible response from just DAY 1 of this 20-day journey that frankly I am feeling some pressure in what to post next!  But we are fortunate that have literally a couple thousand pictures worth sharing.  My challenge is to find the best ones!

Today’s memorable moment comes from the 2010 G2T National ParaTriathlon Training Camp.  We were once again blessed to have spectacular weather.  The three people in the foreground of today’s picture are (left to right), Mike Jenks, Cadie Jessup and Tom Martin.  Mike and Tom are prosthetists from Charlotte, NC and Anderson, SC, respectively.  Cadie is also from Charlotte and works full-time for one of the major financial institutions in the city.  I don’t remember the exact moment when I met her, however.  I believe Mike Jenks had asked me to come up to Charlotte to speak at a program his company was doing for adaptive sports in North Carolina.  Cadie had seen a promotional item on the event and contacted me through our Getting2Tri website.  After a couple emails back and forth, she decided to not only come to the program in Charlotte that Jenks was putting on, but further decided to come to our Atlanta camp a few months down the road.

Cadie lost her left leg due to complications with a blood clot that developed late last year (2009).  She came to the camp literally within a few weeks of receiving her “everyday” prosthetic leg.  The camp was very important to Cadie.  Prior to her injury, Cadie was a very avid runner, mostly at the 10k and half-marathon distance.  She also played co-ed flag football in the very sports-minded community of Charlotte.  So getting back into active lifestyles remains paramount in her mind.  Since the camp, Cadie continues to excel in her rehabilitation.  It’s not easy, I am sure she will tell you.  There are days where she despises the training…..but doesn’t that sound familiar to a lot of us?  She’s already completed one sprint triathlon in Winston-Salem, NC and will be participating in her second one in a few weeks on October 10th just north of Charlotte.

I have another great picture of Cadie that I’ll share in a few days.  But the real point of today’s image was not about the people in the foreground.  Rather it’s of the gentleman in the background, wearing the khaki windbreaker jacket, watching intently to the drills Cadie is doing with Mike Jenks and Tom Martin.  The man is focused on Cadie for that particular moment, just as he was throughout the camp.  You see, the gentleman is Terry Jessup, Cadie’s father.

Time and time again, we find that the impact Getting2Tri makes on the able-bodied community is far more significant that the impact we have on our athletes.  Terry is full testimony to that fact.  Cadie, one of two daughters, is arguably Terry’s “son” that he never had.  Prior to her accident, Cadie was a regular golf partner with her dad.  They would share stories about Wake Forest college basketball scouting analyst reports, or talk about what’s new with the Carolina Panthers.  So when Cadie was temporarily sidelined, I think Terry was sidelined as well.

It has been remarkable to watch from a distance the love and admiration between Cadie and her dad.  Terry wears one of our Getting2Tri yellow dri-fit shirts everywhere, according to Cadie!  We recently sent him a blue polo-styled golf shirt with the G2T emblem on the front.   So Terry now has a little more variety in his G2T wardrobe!  And whenever Cadie is competing, you can bet you’ll see Terry cheering on his daughter wearing some sort of G2T logo-wear.  To Terry, it’s not about any kind of fashion statement.  It’s about an organization that I believe has given his daughter….and him, the opportunity to get back in the game.

I love having athletes like Cadie Jessup putting their sweat and tears into their athletic pursuits.  I am even more fond of champions like Terry Jessup.  In a situation that might be heart-breaking to some, Terry has his heart in the right place.  Thank you, my friend.

20 Days, 20 Pictures, 20 Stories: DAY 1

I’ll kick off the “20 days, 20 pictures, 20 stories” with one of my favorite people in the whole world; Jack Spartz.  I’ve known Jack Spartz for probably five or six years now.  We first met at a local masters swim program in Atlanta.  Jack is a phenomenal swimmer and it probably helps that he’s something like 6 feet, 5 inches tall.  When he stretches out his swim stroke in the lane, he can practically reach the opposite wall!  But Jack’s reach as one of our key volunteers time and time again has been in his willingness to do whatever it takes to help our athletes.  His speciality is with swim instruction, of course.  Jack’s history with G2T not only includes his participation as a swim mentor for all three national camps, but he’s also volunteered as part of a small team of G2T representatives at the Amputee Coalition of America’s “First Swim” program at their annual conference back in 2009.

Jack comes from a very large family.  I believe he’s one of 10 children, all grown adults now.  Jack has used the impact Getting2Tri has made on his life and turned it into positive messages for his family.  He has rallied his siblings to get involved in their own communities with volunteerism.  Jack is a true leader in every sense of the world.

Pictured with Jack in this image is Christine Kerr, our first camp participant from “down under” in Western Australia.  Jack was teaching Chris to swim on her stomach instead of floating on her back.  She competes in triathlons back in her country despite her paralysis disability.  I don’t recall the exact moment of this picture, but I know it was when Jack and Chris had a breakthrough in her swimming technique at the 2010 national camp.  Chris will tell you that learning to swim on her stomach was a huge, huge accomplishment for her at the camp.

“Don’t Give Up…..Don’t Ever Give Up!”

Some of you may recognize that famous quote in the title of this latest blog entry.  The author is legendary North Carolina State University college basketball coach, Jim Valvano (aka “Jimmy V”).  Valvano staged a very public battle with cancer.  Many will recall his speech at the 1993 ESPN ESPY awards show.   Take a few minutes to watch it here.  I could watch this every week of every year for the rest of my life.

I will go on record to say that I bet Coach Valvano never participated in a triathlon so you might be wondering how I’m gonna make some connection.

I met Deanna Babcock a little over 2 years ago.  She was a grad student at, here comes the connection, NC State University.  Outside of her studies, Deanna was also training for the Ironman Florida triathlon, scheduled for November 2007.   On July 21, 2007 while swimming in the university pool, her heart suddenly stopped and that led to a series of life-threatening problems.   Doctors had to medically induce her into a coma for 4 weeks.  When she awoke from the coma, she was faced with the reality that doctors had to remove her left leg above the knee to save her life.

There’s a whole lot more to the story; more than I can put into this blog entry.  There’s even the part about when I first met Deanna, still in the hospital at Wake Medical Center in Raleigh.    But let me fast forward to last November where she and I were both competing in the Beach2Battleship triathlons in Wilmington, NC.  I was racing the full iron-distance and Deanna was racing the half iron-distance.  I remember seeing her the day before the race.  We chatted and her spirits were full of cautious optimism.  We shared high hopes for each other’s upcoming races the next day.

I didn’t see Deanna the entire day until the run portion.  I came up on her on one of the bridges.  I’ll never forget seeing her, the look on her face, and the conversation that ensued.  She was experiencing phantom pains on her residual limb-side of her body.  We stopped on the bridge and adjusted her prosthetic running leg, liners, etc.  That seemed to initially do the trick and she “soldiered on” for another 6 miles before finally having to drop out of the race.  Deanna, despite not finishing, displayed some of the greatest courage I’ve ever seen.

This past weekend, Deanna emailed me to say she was going to give it another try at the half iron-distance.  On Saturday, she’ll toe the line with hundreds of other participants in the 2009 Beach2Battleship triathlon.  I hope to be up there to watch her cross the finish line.

As a final commentary to Deanna, I thought I’d post her race report from last year’s race.  If you know Deanna, you know she rarely minces words and pretty much tells it like it is.  Therefor, you will not see that I’ve edited anything she says below.

Deanna…..good luck this weekend!  And thanks for “never giving up….”.

Rebecca Hernandez (left) and Deanna Babcock (right)

Beach2Battleship Race Report 2008 by Deanna Babcock:

Short version:

I used to have two legs but now I only have one.  I started the beach2battleship half-iron triathlon and tapped out 9.75 hours later, 5 miles short of the finish line.  It was fun.

Long version:

My coach told me to get my beach2battleship half race report out in 24 hours for those of you who are interested.  This seems like a really daunting task because I can’t even figure out all the emotions swimming around in my head, let alone explain them to other people.

This race has been a long time coming.  The seed was planted in October 2006, when I was running along a dark bike path next to Daren and told him I wanted to do Ironman Florida in November 2007.  He asked me why, and my answer was something to the effect of “because it’s hard.”

So, on I go to train for Ironman Florida.  Training for Ironman Florida was indeed hard.  On a typical weekend in summer 2007, I would wake up at 5 a.m., make pancakes, don spandex, hop in my car, listen to crappy 80’s music, and be riding my bike down High House road in Cary, NC before the sun was up.  A hundred or so miles and several hours later, I’d hop off the bike, enjoy a brief jog, take a shower in the back of the bike store where I worked, and spend the rest of the day selling bikes before crashing out on the couch and imbibing prodigious amounts of food.

On July 21^st 2007, I missed my long ride and work because I decided to sleep in…for a month.  Friday, the day before, I sudden cardiac arrested in the swimming pool at NC State.  I’m no doctor, but suffice to say that crap goes downhill fast when your heart stops beating for extended periods of time.  I got off pretty lucky, though, and bounced out of WakeMed a scant 55 days after I rolled in, only one knee down.  I didn’t even need new kidneys (contrary to what Mean Kidney Doctor told me), which, hey dude, I’ll take what I can get.

Side note number one: my friends are really crazy.  Normal friends would have held my hand, rubbed my back, and brought me baked goods.  Now don’t get me wrong, some of these things did happen, but while I was still comatose, my friends had already taken the liberty of planning my comeback to triathlon.  So instead of recalling quiet niceties spoken in tones fit for a hospital room, I only recall people saying “Don’t worry, we’ll have you a running leg in no time” and asking questions like “So when are you getting back on the bike?”

Suffice to say that it was never an option to stop competing in triathlon.  It took me a couple of months to learn how to walk without falling over, but after that I could move on to bigger and better things like swimming and biking and eventually running.

Side note number two:  I had a lot of help along the way.  Wes Hall and Richard, who I met at Ironman Florida, both helped me get going in the pool.  Ossur and the Challenged Athletes Foundation teamed up to get a me a running leg, and Brian Frasure helped dial it in.  Mike Lenhart, Sarah Reinertsen, and Scout Basset fielded tons of questions about the logistics of training and competing as a newly minted challenged athlete.

Sometime in early 2008, I decided things were coming together alright, and I’d probably be able to race a triathlon or two in the summer.  Apparently I have a problem with dreaming big, because I decided somehow that it would be a great idea to sign up for the beach2battleship half-iron distance race.  My coach Daren must be crazy, too, because he didn’t try to tell me otherwise…he just served up training plan after training plan to help me along.

Fast forward to October 30^th.  I’d spent all summer doing long rides on Saturday and long runs on Sunday, just like the summer before.  I was riding my road bike down Waynick Blvd. in Wrightsville beach with a tailwind, and I decided there was no place I would rather be.  I knew the race coming on the 1^st would be hard, but I didn’t care.

My race strategy was as follows:  swim along merrily with the current, pedal 56 miles whilst snacking on PopTarts and Lance crackers, and try not to die or give up on the run.

Saturday morning, I woke up early, ate peanut butter and banana on a wheat bagel, had some crappy coffee, and went to T1 to set up my leg at the swim exit.  It was cold.  My mom, my friend Lindsay, and my coach helped me get everything set up.  Lindsay and I went back to my hotel room, I squeezed into my wetsuit, and we went to the swim start.

We sat in the car and listened to great songs like “Paper Planes,” “Gold Digger,” “Dragonstea Din Tei,” and “Ghetto Supastar.”  I crutched over to the swim start wearing a sweatshirt and one sock with my wetsuit.  I saw my physical therapist whose job it was to move my carcass around in MICU, and we chatted it up.  I hopped into the water before my swim wave took off, and rolled out with the “Masters Clydesdales.”

I exited the water approximately 38 minutes later, and was considerably colder than when I had started.  I popped on my running leg, and trotted off to T1.  Slid on some arm warmers, one leg warmer, and took off on the bike.  It took me about 40 minutes to warm up after the bike, but once I did, the ride was quite enjoyable.  The bike took about four hours, and I wasn’t last.  Some fast people doing the full passed me towards the end of the bike, but they were very friendly as they blew past me.

I think I was a little foggy coming off the bike because my T2 time was really slow.  It was very loud, and people were encouraging.  About 400m away from T2, the crowds and noise faded, and I was standing still on the road wondering what the hell I was thinking.

Daren came up and convinced me to move in the forward direction.  We made it 0.5 miles very slowly, and Mike Lenhart came up behind us.  Without Daren and Mike (and the promise of cookies available at all aid stations), I wouldn’t have made it to mile 1.

I didn’t really have any running left in me.  Maybe it was a combination of tired legs from biking, undertraining for the run, and mental burnout.  The run amounted to Daren and I walking along chatting it up, with me having mental ups and downs like clockwork every single mile, but ultimately being excited enough about cookies to make it to the next aid station.

At mile 3-ish, we were walking through downtown Wilmington and there were a lot of people.  Everyone seemed very impressed that I was walking slowly with a prosthetic leg and they were encouraging, shouting things like “You’re so inspiring,” or “Keep it up.  What an inspiration.”  I was grumpy, but Daren told me I should smile anyway.  So I did…a little…sometimes.  The racers that kept passing me said the same, but I was nicer to them because I figured they actually knew a little about what I was doing.  One guy does stand out.  He was racing, and blew past me with an enthusiastic “Keep it up, you’re F**KING AWESOME!!!”  I liked that guy.  Simple, elegant.  I told Daren that I’m a simple person, and profanity and jokes about flatulence will get me every time.  This revelation was key to me making it to mile 8.

At mile 6 I wanted to stop for sure.  Daren convinced me to keep going some more.  I think it was at mile 6 that he lured me to mile 7 with the promise of explaining why boys feel the need to impress women by having loud tailpipes on their cars.  Shoot, the answer to one of life’s great mysteries was enough to keep me going.  During the meantime, he regaled me with stories about flatulence.  I think we must have been a sight to see for other racers, because I was limping alone piteously slowly, but I kept laughing out loud at Daren’s stories.  Anyway, I made it to mile 7 and learned why boys think it is a good idea to impress women with loud cars.

I was happy to make it to mile 7 because it was a little over half of the run.  I wanted to go to mile 8 because I’ve ran 7 miles before, so I thought it would be a good goal.  I’m not sure how I made it to mile 8.  I do know it was getting dark and cold.  I think there were probably more flatulence stories.  Like I said, gets me every time.

I made it to mile 8.  By this time, it was 9.75 hours after I had began swimming, and one hour after the official race cutoff time.  I was pretty tired and pretty sore, so I decided to tap out.  I stand by my decision.

One of Daren’s friends who is obviously much more intelligent than myself said “[The] goal should not be defined by the distance traveled but the athleticism, bravery and intelligence displayed along her abbreviated path.”  So I’m good with that.

Thinking of a kid named “Tyler”

I was just walking away from putting Jason Gunter into the water for the swim start at last weekend’s Ironman World Championship when my Blackberry alerted me from my pocket.  It took me awhile to dig out the phone.  A couple year’s ago, when I was in a similar handler role at Kona, I forgot about the Blackberry in my cargo pocket.  Let me just say that salt water and cell phones do not make a good combination.  So this year, I had double-wrapped the phone in a couple of ziplock bags.

I pulled out the phone to see the message.  It read: “Tyler Copley has accepted your friend request on Facebook”.  The irony of the moment sent chills down my body.

Tyler Copley was a teenager from Atlanta who was also a single leg amputee.  Tyler lost his leg as a result of cancer.  I was fortunate to barely meet him and his mom, Connie, about 18 months ago.  Tyler was mostly affiliated with another great organization based in Atlanta, the Rally Foundation.  Rally serves the needs of children with cancer and has raised millions of dollars towards children’s cancer research over the years.  Their founder, Dean Crowe, is not only a personal friend and mentor to me with my efforts at Getting2Tri, but she’s also one of those rare champions who leads by example.

A couple months ago, I was meeting with Dean to talk about “non profit stuff”, as we like to call it.  We talked about the linkage between Tyler and our two organizations.  Tyler had reached out to G2T concerning his interest in training for a triathlon.  We had a couple of conversations and had begun putting some plans together.  Sadly, my organization was never able to work with him.  Tyler’s cancer came back and he lost his courageous fight with the disease a little over a year ago so we were never able to fulfill his dream of doing a triathlon.

My conversation with Dean that particular meeting in August drifted to talking about Tyler.  Dean told me that she had made a promise to the young teenager to do a race in his honor some day.  She said, “You know, Mike, I need to pick a half-marathon race to run for him.”  Without missing a beat, I said to her, “Dean, why don’t you do a triathlon.  Isn’t that what Tyler would have wanted anyway?”  Initially she shrugged off the notion of a triathlon but when I mentioned to her the idea of doing a relay team with two other participants…then she was suddenly running out of reasons to say “no”.

Dean and I loosely worked out a training plan and picked the Lake Lanier Sprint triathlon on October 4th as the targeted race.  She would have plenty of time since the race was roughly 2 months away.  Dean decided to do the swim portion on her relay team.  The distance at the triathlon would be 4oo meters.  Dean worked with a masters swim coach, Pete Farren, from the Concourse Athletic Club as well as participated in a couple open water swim practices.

Many times throughout the course of Dean’s preparation, she would email me or text me or call me saying, “You know, Tyler is up in heaven right now laughing and smiling about this whole thing.”  And I truly believe she was right about that statement.

Dean displayed what I’ve seen time and time again from other able-bodied athletes who race in honor of someone else; when we get tired or feel like giving up, racing for someone or something greater than ourselves makes all the difference in the world.  I am very proud of my friend, Dean Crowe.  She raced with great pride, finishing her portion on her team without any problems, and more importantly, lead by example as well as fulfilled a promise she made to a teenager when his days with us had become limited.  Dean is one of those magical leaders who actually walks the walk, or, in this case, “swims the swim”.  I encourage you to spend some time looking over her organization’s efforts and mission.

A few weeks later, I was looking over some Facebook pages and found that Tyler’s page was still active.  In fact, many of his high school classmates continue to leave messages on his Wall, even beyond his death.  I had made a friend request to his page a couple weeks before I headed out to Hawaii to support Jason Gunter and Jason’ Fowler.  Connie Copley, Tyler’s mom, maintains his Facebook page in his memory.  She was the one responsible for accepting my friend request to Tyler’s page.  Ironically, her approval came on the morning of the most famous triathlon in the world; the Ironman World Championship.  She said later that she doesn’t know why she happened to open Facebook that particular morning to approve the request.  Something told her to “do it” that day.

Coincidence?  Absolutely not.

You see, I believe what Dean said many times over and over during the course of her training.  Tyler is up in heaven smiling down on the world of triathlons.  And even though Getting2Tri was not able to fulfill his dreams of doing a triathlon while he was with us, Tyler is making his mark on the triathlon community…one race at a time.

Thank you, Tyler   We miss you.

Courage, Pride and Determination

Jason Gunter and Jason Fowler both toed up to the swim start line yesterday with one common goal:  Cross the finish line.  To me, however, they had both already won.  “Getting in the Game” is not just a catchy slogan for this blog site.  It’s how we approach our mission at the Getting2Tri Foundation.  We use the analogy of “play” to represent what it means to be in the game.  As children, we play in the sandbox, on the baseball field, on in the back yard.  As adults, many times sports represents our ability to continue to “play”.  When someone has or develops a disability, society often dictates that the person can no longer play.  We like to think otherwise.  And so much of our focus is to get our athletes into the game.

When I first met Jason Fowler a couple years ago, he told me the story of competing in the Ironman World Championship in 2004 but not making the bike cutoff time.  He was pulled from the course with just over 6 miles to go.  He worked diligently for several years afterwards to attempt to re-qualify as a wheelchair athlete for the prize at Kona.  Finally in 2008, he got his shot to again compete in Hawaii.  Fowler had a phenomenal day, completing all three portions of the Ironman and finished 2nd overall in the wheelchair division.  Several months later after getting back and letting the moment sink in, he called me to say he wanted to try and win it all.  Yesterday, Fowler began the Ironman to attempt to become the overall male champion in a very competitive field of wheelchair athletes.

Yesterday was his day.  Fowler crossed the line at the top male finisher.  I was at the finish line to congratulate him on his success.  I watched as his family and friends cheered at his accomplishment.  Well done!

Similarly Jason Gunter entered his first Ironman yesterday with hopes of becoming the first upper and lower extremity to cross one of the most recognized finish lines in endurance sports.  His day began very well with an incredible time in the swim.  The bike course proved extremely challenging with excessive winds and the hottest temperatures recorded in the 31 year history of the event.  Gunter came into the transition off the bike with cramping in his lower extremities, but was determined to finish the race.  As he exited for the run course, I told him, “Jason, don’t worry.  The legs will wake up after about 1 or 2 miles”.  To that he looked over at me with a 100-mile stare saying, “Do you promise?”.

If you’ve ever been out on the run course at the Ironman World Championship, you know it gets pitch black along the Queen K Highway somewhere after 12 miles on the run course.  I knew Gunter would be cutting it very close to coming in before the final cutoff time at Midnight.  I walked through the darkness, passing water point/aid stations along the way looking for him to get an idea on his progress.  Stephen Schulte, Jason’s prosthetist from Atlanta, also walked along the course looking to get some updates.  I sat down at mile 23 and watched ahead of me in the darkness for Jason to appear.  It was 10:30 pm and I knew time was slipping away.  After sitting at 23 for about 20 minutes, I got up and headed for the next mile marker, mile 22.  As I approached in the darkness, I could hear and see a crowd of people screaming at one of the competitors; encouraging him to keep moving forward.  It was Gunter and the crowd was a group of local Hawaiians, mostly teen-agers from the previous aid station, telling Gunter to keep pushing.  Jason was bent over in pain, his back nearly giving out to spasms.  He was off-balance, but determined.  He kept pushing forward.  Its a scene I will never forget.  He looked at me, still having that 100-mile stare, but full of determination.  Finally, just prior to the aid station at mile marker 23, Gunter collapsed and could go no further.  He was a little over 3 miles short of the finish line.

So it was a very long day for Team G2T.  I share extreme pride in the efforts and accomplishments of both Jasons.  While they were both focused on the finish line, I was remembering all that it took to get to the start line.  They are both winners in my book.  If they focus on the finish line, one Jason will savor the accomplishment a little easier than the other.  I know both will return to fight another day.  Both will stay in the game.  Many others will follow in their footsteps because of the courage, pride and determination displayed on the playing field of life.

Final Thoughts before Game Day

Today was a busy day with meetings and last minute preparations on paratriathletes’ equipment.  I was so glad Stephen Schulte, president of ProCare Prosthetics (Suwanee, GA) made the trip out.  Stephen and his family arrived last night and, despite some jet lag, he was all about helping Jason Gunter make final preparations before Saturday’s race.  Stephen checked off Jason’s swim leg, cycling leg, and running leg.  The biggest thing we noticed earlier this week was that the running leg was not holding the necessary vacuum seal.  Without the proper seal, the equipment is problematic.  Stephen came prepared to do whatever was necessary.  Turns out, he replaced an entire pump system on the running leg.  Now its holding excellent vacuum.  Thanks, Stephen!

Any athlete’s last day before a big competition becomes a mixture of trying to relax while also keeping on a game face.  Several member’s of Gunter’s family made the trip to watch Jason so portions of today were spent relaxing with them.  We also, however, spent at least half the day laying out equipment and checking off our own lists.

I am extremely proud of all the paratriathletes competing tomorrow, not just our two from Getting2Tri.  I was amazing for me to look around the paratriathletes’ briefing this morning and see the talent assembled in the room.  I think this will be one of the most competitive paratriathletes’ event ever.  Good luck to all.

As a final shot before I get myself to bed, here are some pictures from the final day before triathlon’s most famous endurance race.