My goal was to simply finish. Strange thought for a competitor who wants to annihilate any competition in a race. But I knew I was in no shape to compete well or let alone win. My only competition was myself. My mind, knowing the race was going to be hard enough just to finish.
Seven months into training I received a phone call. “Your dad is in the hospital. He had a brain aneurism and they are working on him now.” The only other person I knew to have had a brain aneurism died within days. My heart sunk. For the next month I traveled back and forth from Redmond, Oregon to Vancouver, Washington not sure what day would be my fathers last day on this planet. One week passed, two weeks passed, and my training had gone to pot. Three weeks passed and 7 months months of training flew right out the window.
There was nothing I could do for my father as he struggled within his own mind to stay on this earth. My trips between Redmond and Vancouver exhausted me. And I had the thought, what would my dad have me do? As a coach and an extraordinary athlete himself, he would tell me to compete. Well shit, one week to train after 3 weeks off is hardly the training schedule to compete well, but at this point it wasn’t about competing, it was about honoring my dad, and myself. So with one week left before the race I started where I was gently re-entered training. I asked if my husband at the time would come support me with our five children, yet he was unable to attend. I felt alone. All this work with no support.
My dad was the one who always came to support me in whatever sporting event I was doing, even at the age of 40. My heart melted as I realized there would be no one to encourage me on my biggest race yet. I went to my morning swim, and in the water swimming lap after lap the tears began to mix in with the water as I felt so alone. And all of a sudden I felt his presence. No, not my fathers presence, but my brothers who had died when he was 23 and I was 21. His voice resounded within my mind.
“I’ll do it WITH you”. Did I hear right? I must have because my entire countenance changed. My heart began to rejoice and I became excited. I can’t explain the major heart shift, but I took the words I heard and held them close to my heart and believed them to be true. (Energy shift) My mind shifted to “have to”, to “get to”, and this time once again, my goal was simply to finish. Not compete.
Race day was a couple days away and I drove the 35 miles to check out the course. The open water swim began at Wickiup reservoir just outside of Sunriver Oregon. I began to speak to my brother as if he were there. “I got this”, I said, “I always was the better swimmer (wink wink)”. I could hear him respond with “Whatever!” Swimmers were swimming the course but I just wanted to lay my eyes on it. Honestly I just hate being cold and didn’t want to jump in just yet. “Pansy” I heard him say..and I giggled to myself. I turned and began to walk up to the transition area. And there, walking toward me was a 6’6 dark haired young man who stopped me dead in my tracks. My brother was 6’6 and had dark hair. But that isn’t really what caught my attention. It was what he was wearing. A light blue jersey from North Carolina that read, “DUKE” and the number on the Jersey was 34. My brothers name….Duke. And as ball players our whole lives, Our family number, the number my dad, my brother and I all wore in high school and college was the number 34. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. I wanted to run up and tackle the young man and hug him but I would have completely freaked him out as a laughing slash crying hysterical woman. So I just held in the emotion, dumbfounded. Did that just happen. I could hear all of heaven laughing. Pretty cool huh. And in that moment, I didn’t just believe he was going to do this race with me, I KNEW he was doing it with me.
I drove the 26 miles of bike on the was back to Sunriver and quickly glanced at the transition between the bike and run and then proceeded home. I may not be in the best shape for this journey, however it wasn’t about that anymore, it was about spending time with my brother. I played Depeche Mode on the way home, a little Billy Idol, and a couple more of our favorite songs. Life was good. Not just good, but precious. I was thankful for such a wonderful experience today.
Race day came and I drove back to the race sight. The Pacific Crest Triathlon was one of the larger events in that area for athletes with over 1,000+ participants. I went up to the registration site and picked up my packet where I would receive my bib number and then have them mark my arms and legs with the number that matched the bib. I began to get nervous as the race was quickly approaching. Wondering how bad it was going to hurt but too late to back out. I took my packet to see what kind of goodies were inside. Gel packets, coupons, and other small gifts from sponsors of the race. As I reached in, I pulled out my bib number. And there, once again, was a reminder my brother was with me. Out of 1000+ competitors for the olympic, half and full ironman, I pulled out the greatest gift in the packet...number 34. What are the odds? (I know, I know….1 in 1000+). They took out the black marker and wrote 34 on the right side of my arm and leg. I heard my brother speak again. “I got this side” of course he did. He was left handed. Between the two of us we had it covered. I felt such a peace. No reason to be nervous. The gun went off and the race began. The swim was a piece of cake as I am a natural born swimmer. I went on a bike ride with my brother that went up gentle slopes and curves on the scenic cascade hwy recalling memories from the past and I allowed a couple tears to fall along the way, but I swear I could hear my brothers laughter as my legs cramped up for the run. I had to power walk. “Jerk” I thought to myself. I am a competitor, and even though my quads seized me I would not let my brothers laughter detour me. We were fierce competitors against each other as kids, but fierce comrades as we went into college to compete. He knew how to support me all the way across the finish line. And we finished….laughing. Ah. What a sweet moment in time.
My dad eventually recovered from two brain aneurysms which was another miracle in and of itself, and this entire experience reminded me that time is temporal. Occasionally I get glimpses of eternity with precious moments like these. I am ever drawn to the eternal, and I know it awaits me, but not just yet. (Even in the midst of my dads struggles and the financial burden for the family, they planned the Wallenborn Memorial golf tournament to help relieve the burden. To everyones surprise, the Wallenborn memorial turned into being the Wallenborn Classic. Thats right. Classic. And just like life, we know There will always be more races to run and its not about the competition, it’s about the relationships. May we ever be reminded that when we think we are alone in our journey, heaven opens to remind us that we are not alone. In fact, we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses in another realm that spur us on. I love my ancestral cheerleading section because at times I can hear all of heaven applaud, reaching out from their realm into mine. In these extraordinary times I know I am never alone because I feel them running the race with me.
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