***SPARK..LE***

 

This has nothing to do with Triathlon, sorry to disappoint, but this is something that I believe to be much more poignant and all too often reoccurring in my life.

 

If you were one of the 3 people that read my last entry about running and wanting to give up, then maybe you remember the paragraph where I referred to passing all of the homeless people and how it almost stopped me- instantly. Or you may remember my entry regarding the homeless man in NYC. Either way, their plight and their struggles affect me like nothing else. It hurts me to see human beings living that way. We spend billions all over this world and there are people who truly need our help right outside our doors.

 

The half marathon on Thanksgiving took us down a road that is lined on either side with the homeless. There were groups huddled together trying to keep warm, some sleeping in rolled up newspaper and old blankets, others walking or just standing. My run turned into a slow jog and I could barely get a deep breath as I was so overtaken with sadness. This was certainly something I could not forget and do nothing about.

 

A week or so after - I returned to that street accompanied by Tami and Kona. We brought all of our left overs, a few bottles of water and dropped them to a group of homeless near the end of the street. There were several there and I asked them to make sure they shared amongst themselves. They agreed. As I walked back to the car you could hear them sifting through the bag and talking to each other. They said thank you. We left and returned the following Sunday with more of the same and dropped it to another group. We have been repeating this and I feel like although we can’t help everyone, we are helping a few.  We were doing something. Maybe that one meal gives that person a smile or at least a full stomach for an evening.

 

A few weeks later there was a news story about an effort to meet and record all of the homeless in Atlanta. They were taking volunteers and pairing with police escorts to go out at night, record and find what and why these people were living on the streets. Regardless if you believe this was the right way or good way to allocate funds, or agree with how they chose to go about doing it - I am proud of our city. They should be applauded for the effort to start helping, the start of doing something. I have seen homeless people who are mentally ill in wheelchairs, barely able to speak and they are begging for money. MY GOD! How is any part of that acceptable??  HOW?!

 

I know you might be saying that some of them don’t want help.  Maybe some are there due to drug abuse, and perhaps you are right. But not all. I guarantee- NOT ALL! In my heart of hearts, they all deserve better. Say what you will. These are people.

 

There is always a point to my posts. This is it...

*************************************************************************************Yesterday I met a Saint. Tami described her as an Angel.

I pay attention to the homeless. If I see one while driving I make a mental note. If there are clothes we are unable to use or left overs we wont eat, we take them to those people. Yesterday was a little different…

Very near to our house I saw an old lady pushing a shopping cart. She was dressed with layers of long clothes and walked slowly pushing a shopping cart filled to the limit with what seemed to be her entire life wrapped in grocery bags. We moved to this neighborhood about a year ago and this was the first I had seen a homeless person so close. Hours later Tami came home from a long weekend away. While unloading the car she said she brought left overs back and figured we could take them to our weekly spot. Instantly the old lady came to mind and I told Tami to set them by the door as there were some clothes there as well. Briefly I told her how I saw the lady and we could go see if she was still around to give her the food.

An hour later we walk Kona outside and across the street, pushing the maxed out cart, draped in the long heavy clothes, was the lady I saw earlier. Tami ran back inside and grabbed the bags of food and I crossed the street so I could talk to her and offer it up.

(this is always interesting as some of the homeless will turn and walk away, some will just keep walking, others will talk…its never the same. For safety reasons, I am the one to approach but Kona Bean and Tami are always backing me upJ)

I said hello. She turned to me and with a thick foreign accent said hello back. She was older, somewhere in her late 70’s early 80’s. Her head was covered in a babushka type scarf wrap and underneath there was another. The scarfs shadowed her bright blue eyes that had a spec of brown in the middle encased in very weathered skin. Her skin resembled old leather from obvious years of being exposed to the elements with plenty of thick wrinkles.  A ball of grey, white and a little black hair hung out the back of the scarf on top of a dark blue wool jacket. Her hands had gloves with half of the fingers missing. Each hand was worn, wrinkled, calloused, and chapped. The resembled those of a concrete worker, not that of an older lady. She had on a blue shirt with a pouch in front carrying something and her pants were baggy leading down to a pair of black shoes that looked to have more miles on them than my first car.

( I have to tell you that I’m on an airplane writing this and literally had to stop and collect myself because of the overwhelming sadness I have from remembering that moment…)

I asked her how she was and would she like some food and need any help. She smiled and again with the accent, thanked me but said she could not eat it. The bag I had was full of bagels, chips and a bunch of other things. She was so thankful but told me eating bread made her very sick so she wouldn’t be able to eat it. There was a bag hanging from the handle of the cart with cookies in it. She showed it to me while explaining how a lady purchased them and gave the cookies to her. She didn’t want to upset or offend the lady so she took them with the hopes that someone she ran into would want them. She offered them to me. (read that statement again) Yes, here is an old lady, no home, no car, no money, all of her belongings in a cart that she is pushing up a large long hill and she is offering me cookies.

I was blown away and did everything I could to hold back tears as we continued to talk. I asked her name.  Itskra she replied. She is an immigrant from Czechoslovakia and her name means “Spark” or to “Sparkle.”  She waved her hand in the air as if to have a sparkler or firework. I smiled! She asked me my name and when I replied Ryan, she asked if it meant anything. I told her not to my knowledge. She quickly interjected that her daughter was named Ryna and that meant “Paradise”! She was sure Ryan had to mean something similar. J

We were talking for a while and two ladies approached us. They asked if they could help. Offered her a ride, food etc. I even offered to have her come in and have dinner with us. She declined with a smile and a sincere thank you. We all asked where she would sleep, where she was going, how could we help? Her response in a thick accent; “ You have already helped so much. You stopped. You talked to me. I stopped at the shopping center to use the bathroom, wash my hands and get some water. They called the police to ask me to leave. You did not. You care about me. That is more than I could ever ask for. You have love in your hearts for me.” I couldn’t speak. She continued. “ I have everything I need with the sky above me and the earth below me. When I am tired I take a nap then I keep walking. The earth has good energy and you have given me good energy. I walk.” We asked about shelters, family, the works. She told us that she didn’t like the shelter because it felt like a prison. She wanted to be free. Much different than where she came from and for the last 12 years, this is what she did.

She is free.

There was so much more that was said and I can’t put it into words because it almost feels wrong- like it was meant for me to hear. Feel. Remember.

I walked back across the street with the bag of food quickly met by Tami and Kona. I couldn’t speak. Eventually I was able to tell bits and pieces to Tami but each time was abruptly stopped because I am overcome by emotion. We haven’t seen her since and Im convinced we wont again. She said if we ever do, to please say hi! If we don’t remember her name, Itskra, we can always say “Spark” or “Sparkle” and she will answer.

Sparkle – she certainly does.

That day will never leave me. Her face. Her smile. Her sparkle.

I would like to leave this earth a better place. There is no doubt I have much work to do and every day I continue learning what that means. Maybe one day I will be able to be half as amazing as Itskra . As mentioned before, Im not sure she was human though and I although I am not very religious, I do believe I met an Angel.

 

 Saint…Spark!

Reader beware- numerous tangents throughout. Tangents are labeled so you can choose your own adventure- ie; read them or not.

 

Thanksgiving was the straw that broke the camel’s back. In a year where if it could go wrong, it did – the last race would not disappoint. If you are thinking my attitude is poor, think again. This is a revelation and realization that is/was long overdue. We’ve all heard or some of us have had the unfortunate experience of hitting rock bottom. For an athlete that can mean several things. On the scale of ups and downs there are wins, losses, almosts’, regrets and a huge learning curve. This is evident in every aspect of life, not just sport.  My thought - maybe … just maybe…some of you have had the same feelings.  You can relate and lend words of wisdom?? Or maybe you will respond with HTFU Ryan. Either way without writing it out, the thoughts continue to swirl and I drive myself crazy attempting to make sense of the never ending what ifs.

 

Ever since I can remember I wanted to compete. Football, hockey, lacrosse, basketball and now triathlon. Of course there were times I would get bored or the intensity would fade a bit- A BIT - but the voice in my head stayed consistent. “Score!” “Knock this out of the park!!” “Touch down!!” “ RUUUUUNNNNN!!!” “WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Until now.

 

This past year was my low point for sport. In a season that encompassed surgery, heat stroke, black out, asthma, 1^st stage of skin cancer and the worst finishing times I have ever posted, it was an all-time low. My close friends tell me I need training partners. Others say I need a break. Some claim its nutrition, and then some just say you’re crazy. Those are the ones I like the best. Tangent- You know - those people who haven’t a clue about the drive that lives inside us when it comes to sport.? We could never explain it, and they could never understand it. That’s a necessary balance in life. This is not criticizing but rather pointing out natural differences in people from all aspects of life. There are plenty of things I think are stupid and don’t understand. Like what the hell is the sword fighting going on at the park? Video games don’t entice me but some people sit and play for hours. You get the point. There is nothing wrong with any of it and if it makes you happy, I say do it! One more person smiling in this world is a good thing. No, it’s a GREAT thing!!!

 

I can hear each of you reading this…”Boring! Ryan, cut through the shit, end the tangents and get on with it.”  Alas…here we go.

 

The Voice…

 

In a year where I witnessed my friends posting PR’s left and right, I am racing and training with a completely different mindset. I watched as Jim Wrubel qualified for Boston after ripping his calf apart mid marathon!! WT??? Tell who to HTFU? He’ll stop, slap you and still PR! Chris Rotelli going sub 10 at IM Tremblont!! DAMN!!!!!! “Your bike is dumb and your bike is dumb and I will throw dirty water on your bike!” (Z-man!) Chris Webb signing up for IM PLACID!!  Nikki taking down her first HIM and I think…wait for it…she likes to run now…a littleJ  Bergin finishing a brutal IMNYC!! Dev setting a 30 minute marathon PR!! Tami, my beautiful bride to be, going sub 2!!! Kim’s first year as a pro ends with a 9:20 full IM!  Put that together with the fact I am starting to make some solid friends in Atlanta, plan the biggest day of my life and a new job that is beyond fantastic, I should literally be ON TOP OF THE WORLD!!!  LITERALLY!!!

 

I am- EXCEPT … when it comes to racing and training. Each one of my races this year and almost every single workout has had the same underlying feeling. “QUIT! Hurry up and finish so you can go do something else.  It’s cool if they pass. You don’t have to win. Just finish and go home.”  Recovery is no better. As soon as I close my eyes to rest- I CRASH riding my bike! PTSD (guessing??) sucks and is a limiter like no other. 35mph and a twinge, or so I think, hits my shoulder. 6 months of pain comes rushing back. I’ve lost my edge.

 

Nothing about any aspect of it is fun anymore. It’s taxing. Miserable. Time consuming and without reward. My bike sessions might as well be null. Lifting is ridiculously boring! Running…I’ll take the short cut. Injury after injury after FUCKING injury!! Frankly, I am sick of it all!

 

When and in what life did I ever decide that half assed anything or walking through an aid station was even an option??? Seriously!!!  NEVER! NEVER!! NEVER!!! Anything less than #1 or the heart to strive for #1 was unacceptable. If not winning at least giving it my all without regard to how I felt! Blowing up wasn't an option, it was the norm but dammit if I didnt push through. Now, it’s almost expected to be mid pack, part of the masses. Tangent-"My heart rate is too high! I need more calories." BULLSHIT!! Mark Allen had bread, water, a steel non-aero bike and would kick all of our asses to this day! If you know me or knew me you would understand this is- just- not- me.

Hang in there! You will love this.

Prior to the rambling I wrote; Thanksgiving was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Here is why. While running the half marathon (training was running once in six weeks because I didn’t give a shit) I was fighting for a spot up front. (group 2 not Kenyon group) I went out hard with the rest of the overzealous and said to myself; “PR today! Put your heart into the last race of the year because Lord knows you sure as hell haven’t done it to date.” So I did…to start. We hit mile 3 at just under 18 minutes. There was bumping and fighting going on the entire time.(What a bunch of idiots we were) Unfortunately a couple guys even got pushed out on a turn hitting the curb head first. By mile 5 we had thinned out a bit. There were two lead groups now and some intermittent runners between. The super group was about 7 or 8 minutes ahead of us but due to the long stretches we could see them. There was no going after that pack, this wasn’t the goal. The goal was to race amongst ourselves. The non- Kenyons. The triathletes. The track club. The marathoners. This is really where those battles on the race course take place. Its age groupers that train hard for no other reason except to PR. We race the other guy who’s family and social life has been neglected. We are the ones that go for that last speed session, one more hill climb, one more long slow run in the cold and dark for no other reason than to place in our age group!!! Bite your opponent’s arm off if you must, but get that spot dammit!! And then it happened. The voice that says all those things once again said something different.

 

It’s one thing to fight off fatigue and pain; it is another to fight your own mind. We rounded the corner and there was a McDonalds off in the distance. I haven’t had McDonalds in years but my voice told me to stop there and get a burger. How about a shake and fries? Up ahead was a coffee shop. “Why don’t we stop and get a coffee? Never been there before, let’s give it a try.” You think I’m kidding and exaggerating but truly I am not! At mile 7 or 8 the course took us down a road that I will never forget. Lined on either side were multiple homeless people. Amidst the trash and random clothes scattered across both sidewalks, there were groups huddled together to keep warm. The weather isn’t freezing here but when your blood is thinned from the hot summer, 40 degree temps can seem like single digits in those in the north. My heart sunk, my head heavy with the internal fight described above, and I started to fade from that pack. Those thoughts of stopping to get a Big Mac retreated and the thought of my Thanksgiving vs. theirs was now in place.

 

Tangent-There is no way to describe what I felt or how badly I wanted to help those people. Thanksgiving now has a completely new meaning to me because of that moment. The images of them are still vivid. To say I am thankful would be an understatement. Take a minute. Think about it… This needs to change.

 

Another tangent perhaps however the point remains the same. My mind, my heart, my drive is no longer there. 8 hours in the mountains on my bike is a joke anymore. Im lucky to make 30 minutes on the trainer. So where do I go from here? Any ideas or thoughts? Take a break? Get better with my nutrition? Work harder at finding training partners? Perhaps go back to having fun and hang up the triathlon kit- motorcycle & car racing, dirt bikes? The answers are mine to find, I get that…but damn would it be nice to have some help.

Tangents are done- Thanks for hanging in there.

Ryan

IRONMAN NYC

Ironman NYC

8/11/2012

I can talk about the day I signed up for this race. Why I signed up for it. The build up. The training. The injuries and all that encompasses getting to the starting line, but that’s not what made this day so special. What needs to be talked about are the people that supported me. Their ability to put up with me, accommodate me and be there fighting with me to the end.

This is not so much a race report as it is a Thank You note. Ill get to the race, but please do not read past the words about these people. Their love and support meant I could complete the Ironman. It is what life is about. Its rare in life to find people who support you without thought of self. People who truly unconditionally love and care for you. I have been honored and lucky to have found a few and to say I am grateful, would be an insult as it doesn’t begin to express how truly blessed of a person I am to have them.

RACE WEEK:

Prior to Tami and I leaving, I had several phone calls with Chris Rotelli. If you know Chris, you might not think of him as a calming factor or someone to put you at ease, but that is just what he did for me. Through several phone calls he took time to go over everything I would need for race day and how to go about doing the race. Everything was covered from things to pack as well as what to expect with volunteers, transition, special needs…the works! There was no question in my mind when we left- I had everything I needed.  Tami and I arrived in NYC on Wednesday. We checked into the hotel, had an awesome NY dinner and set a plan for the rest of the weeks logistics. Thursday we went to the expo early to get checked in. They had the typical “WTC Penalty Tent” for spectators. You know, the area that separates you from your family when checking in. (Why is it that you can go to marathons that host 40,000 + athletes and they have no problem with you walking up to get race packets with your loved ones, but WTC finds it necessary to separate family and friends?) We obviously said “the hell with that” and Tami came with me through the line. My phone rang and it was Rotelli checking in on me. Tami picked it up and Chris was singing the Jaws theme! Awesome! I asked him about sight-seeing and what his opinion was on us taking in NYC. He said: “go enjoy your trip! Take it all in and have a blast!!” Great advice!!! My parents and sister Wendy flew in that afternoon. We met them and went to pay our respects at the World Trade Center Memorial and museums.

If you haven’t seen these, I urge you to go. The place moves you. The names listed on the borders of the pools speak to you. Obviously you can’t read them all at once, but I made sure to remember the ones I saw. All are heroes. All are missed. All of their families are in our thoughts. The plaque on the wall of the firehouse was beyond sobering. We walked forever that day. All over NY and finished with a trip to SOHO for pizza and beer with Erin. A long day! A fun day! A sobering day.

The logistics of this race were a nightmare! We knew that coming in but really couldn’t comprehend it until we started to set up for the race. You were really limited on how to get places and to do so with …yet again…your family and friends. Does the WTC have something against family and friends? Seriously! If the organizers need a hug, let us know J

Friday was bike check in and transition set up. Tami and I went back to Pier 92 to get Chicky from TBT and set her up for the race. The plan was to get a quick ride in and then head over to transition (across the river and north). When we arrived at the ferry dock (1.2 miles away from where we picked the bike up..yay logistics!!) we were told that Tami could not come with me to transition unless she purchased a pass for $50 and this needed to be purchased back at pier 92. This was to be a ferry pass that was good for race day. We both agreed there was no need for this prior to the race as I would see her out of transition but why was it needed now? Some talking with the volunteers and they let her come with me. (obviously not native to NY as they were nice…) 25 minutes later we arrived at transition and set up the bike, dropped the gear bags and jumped the ferry again to head back to NYC. (are you seeing the logistic problems yet??)

It was raining and we were tired from the day before so we decided to head back and take it easy the rest of the day. Lucky we only had to walk a couple miles to the subway station or I would have been mad.<sarcastic> The day was unsettling for me. I was anxious to get to the race but also there were questions to whether the swim would be a go or not as a sewage line broke upstream. The broken sewage line gave much needed attention to the event! The NYC public had no idea Ironman was even going on until the story broke about sewage. (You see where we were on the priority list. #1 Poop, #2 Ironman…shouldn’t that be reversed… get it, #2…)  4:00 p.m. and the announcement was made- the swim was a go!! Bored and anxious we decided to head to the deli next door and sit outside. The weather turned great and from that point until I went to sleep, my entire group of awesome supporters sat around talking and eating and having fun. Probably the best time of the trip

Race Day:

Sleep - didn’t get very much. I had to be up and at the ferry by 4:00 a.m. so they could take us to transition which meant out of bed before 3 a.m. Thank goodness Bergin came walking past the deli or I would’ve missed the boat…literally.  Tami came with me but it was short lived as I had to leave her there. (did I mention logistical nightmare?) Groggy, tired and separated once again, I went to set up my bike. My tires were pumped from the night before and thank goodness. The line for the pumps in transition was that of the security line at the airport. Insane!! All that was needed to do was give my special needs bags to the people who would later steal them, add fuel to the T1 and T2 bags and get in line for the ferry to take us to the start. (did you think we were done with the logistic problems? Come on! Stay with me people!!!)

5:45 a.m. I was standing in line waiting to board. No hurry whatsoever to get on the first couple of ferries as I figured I had all day to get started and wanted to enjoy this. That was really the theme. A few days prior I received a message from one hell of an Ironman competitor and Pro- Chad Holderbaum. His advice was simple but poignant. “Make sure when you’re out there you reflect back on the journey because the race isn’t about just one single day. Its about the process.” Damn right I thought! Its time to enjoy this. I sat down on the grass and started to talk to a couple people who were in line with me. They were both from California and minutes flew by as we were all laughing and swapping stories.

The feeling in the air was so much different than any other race I had been to or done. Tension was gone. It was euphoric, all around good vibe. Maybe it was because I was at the back of the pack and we weren’t concerned about getting in the water first or maybe it was just the event itself but all nervousness and jitters went away then and there. I was having fun!!!!

We boarded the 3^rd ferry and I wasn’t about to stop enjoying myself. They were playing music and the view of NY was awesome!! People were having a great time, chatting about the swim, the muddy water and just joking around. A familiar face popped up on the boat- Bergin was there!! I walked over and we talked and joked with others all the way to the start. Awesome!!!  Before we knew it the pros went off, some girl did a really bad job at singing the national anthem, and we were pulling up to the barge. People were jumping off one after another in mass chaos. It looked like lemmings following off a cliff. When you hit the platform, your time started. So get in the water and try not to jump on anyone. Cool! Lets do this! I stepped on the barge, peed in my wetsuit and off I went!

The Swim:

Slow is smooth and smooth is fast! That was plan! Little did I know how fast slow and smooth were. The current didn’t feel stronger or faster than Augusta so I was surprised when I hit the 400meter mark and looked at my watch. WOW I thought! We were moving! The water was a good temp, dark and salty. There were people everywhere but I was able to swim my stroke with very little interference. By far the easiest and best swim I have ever had. By the 2^nd red marker I remembered the advice from Chad and Chris and wanted to take everything in. I turned my head for a breath facing NYC and saw a view that I think few will ever experience. Above all the neon green and bright pink caps were tall buildings and I just smiled! This was Ironman!! (Just then Hoffa floated by but I figured he was DQ’d as his swim cap wasn’t on anymore…:P) The end of the swim came quickly and muddy. I swam all the way to the exit stairs but couldn’t see or breath. The water was black at this point and people were everywhere. Volunteers were helping us out and pointing us where to go! The wetsuit stripper had me out and into the tent before I knew it. Onto the bike!

The Bike:

Grabbing Chicky and off I went. The climb out of transition was big so easy spin and up I went. I swear everyone passed me and I was loving it! As soon as I exited the park and crested the hill my family was there. Orange shirts with my name and race number!! Holy, Moly, AWESOMENESS!!! They were cheering me on and I was on top of the world. Sticking to my zone and planning an easy first 56 I just kept spinning. After passing the initial crowd the rest of the bike course was relatively vacant. There were patches here and there of people but the crowd support was pretty much non-existent. The road was a highway and had many obstacles in it. Potholes, cracks and then it was getting littered with everyone’s gear and nutrition.  I kept my HR about 5 beats lower than I should’ve just to save for the last half. Again, this being my first full, I wanted to make it to the end. Still being passed, I saw many hammering and really pushing. All I heard was Rotelli yelling at me to stay in my zone…so I did! There was a terrible crash about 10 miles out from special needs. People were there to help or I would’ve stopped. A girl looked up at me covered head to toe in blood and a guy was holding his arm as blood had now turned his kit to a bright red. I felt very bad for them and was thankful I was still right side up. Pulling into special needs they were yelling my name. A volunteer approached me with my bag and I exchanged bottles, filled my aero bottle and off I went. Coming to the turn-around I saw those orange shirts and my beautiful bride to be! Tami, Wendy, my Mom and Dad!! Can you say re-energized! It was on! I started to push a little more than the first lap and what do you know…starting passing all of those people who passed me. There were some great down hills but Chicky had some head shake the second I was up in speed. Not sure if it was the 808’s but I wasn’t taking chances so I used caution descending. (if anyone else experienced this let me know) At mile 70 I pulled my waffle from my kit and the rest of my waffles flew across the road. They were ran over and out of the package (I cut the tops off before the race) so it was no use stopping. The good thing was that the next 5 miles flew by as I was busy figuring out what the hell I was going to do.  Because the road conditions were so bad in spots there was C02 cartridges, tubes, tires and nutrition everywhere. Basically if I needed something all I had to do was pull to the side of the road and grab it off the ground or ask someone who was there fixing a flat. I decided not to eat anymore and just rely on my Infinite and water from aid stations. The last 10 miles sucked! A strong head wind came in on top of the long climbs and it was starting to get hot. It really felt as if I wasn’t moving. All I wanted to do was get off the bike and start to run. Coming back into the park I saw my mom and dad again! Energy boost!!!!!!!!

The Run:

Out of my shoes and coasting down the hill (thank God for the volunteer pointing out the large bump or I and probably others would have been on our faces) I pulled to the dismount. Grabbed my bag, into the tent, fuel belt, lathered in sunscreen and out I went! That bitch of a hill was the first part I needed to get out of the way. My legs felt better than ever before and I was looking for a very fast marathon. HR stayed where I wanted and I trekked up the hill. Unfortunately, the hills didn’t stop! SHEESH! One, after another, after another…I was afraid to run down the backside as I knew I would have to run up on the way back. I stopped to use the bathroom once and then I found a savior. Jimmy is his name and we started to run together. Our pace was perfect! We decided to walk aid stations and just talked the entire 15 miles left getting out of the park! Others joined us and some stayed and then dropped but we stayed together. The course was BRUTAL but fun because we were doing this together. Amazing how good you feel when suffering with someone else. Lol!! My right foot was hurting pretty good as the blisters started to multiply. Jimmy and I talked about changing socks at special needs but I was soaked and continued to poor water and ice on me. It would have been futile. Sharing salt tabs and swapping stories we pushed on. A half mile before the bridge was the last big climb. Two spectators were handing out water bottles on their own and it was a welcome. We were hot, beat and desperate. I started to feel very VERY bad and told Jimmy to go on. He declined and said “we will finish this together! Us to the end!” How awesome right?! I was touched but I couldn’t let his Ironman experience be affected by mine so I insisted he go. He did and that is when my darkness hit.

Darkness:

I have never experienced feeling the way I did approaching the bridge. When I tried to talk it didn’t seem to come out. Volunteers at the aid station were cheering but it was like I was in a tunnel.  That’s all I remember. The rest of this is what was told to me- The other side of the bridge (don’t remember crossing it) my family was waiting for me. Tami said I took off my fuel belt and went into a porta potty. I threw up and had diarrhea. When I came out they said I was a zombie. Just walking aimlessly and not acknowledging anyone. A volunteer was walking with me giving me cups of water and ice but I had no response. I just walked. I remember thinking to just lie down and go to sleep. When I started to come around I was surrounded by medics, fire fighter and 2 doctors. I had a cuff on my on arm, a monitor on my other and I was sitting on a bench looking at the river. There were a bunch of empty cups next to me and puke between my legs. The stretcher was behind me and the ambulance had the doors open. The doctor yelled to a volunteer to get me more chicken broth and was asking me questions. He asked my name and I told him, Ryan. They all smiled and said welcome back. For the next 45 minutes they told me what had transpired. When they saw me walking I was stumbling out of a different porta potty in the grass next to a park. They asked me my name and my reply; “Im here for Ironman.” The doctor said, “no, what is your name?” My reply; “ Ironman!” I smiled as everyone was laughing a little but I was scared. None of this rang a bell and they wanted to take me to the hospital. My arm and hand were shaking and I didn’t know why and could not stop it no matter which way I bent or turned it. My foot was numb and my head hurt badly. We were at mile 20. Six more to go and I was an Ironman. My pleads were just to let me finish and I was starting to make deals. If I drink this and stay can I go then? Etc etc. They agreed and we sat and talked for some time. I must say the chicken broth tasted like shit but it along with the bowl of salt, Perform, water, ice, pretzels and anything else they stuck in front of me brought me back. The paramedic was about as nice as could be and they were all joking around with me making me feel great!

I cannot thank those people enough. For the life of me I cant remember their names but if anyone knows how to get a hold of them, I would like to send them a personal, very sincere, thank you. Without them, this story stops here.

Time to finish:

I hugged everyone and invited them all to Atlanta. Hope Tami doesn’t mind some house guests as Im sure I offered a free place to stay J They made me walk through the aid station and get more cups of everything to take with me and advised me to walk the next few miles and keep fueling. I had my orders and I was listening. By mile 22 when I entered the park I was feeling much better. The corner of the park I saw my dad. I stopped and told him what happened. He told me to just keep going and he would see me at the finish. I was doing great he said with a smile. I smiled.  No stopping me now!! There was a short hill so I continue to walk it and the rest of the way to the next aid station. There I would take in more of the same and try to run the rest of the way to the finish. Nothing was going to stop me now! Id crawl to that bitch if I needed to and I had the time. The goal I wanted was way gone and all that mattered was finishing and getting to my family. All of the sudden a guy on a bike in the grass yells, “Hey Ryan! How are you doing?” I panicked as I thought, who the heck is this and oh shit, now I’m  freaking hallucinating?!?! Turns out, Tami’s good friends from college came to watch and her husband, Dennis, who I never met, grabbed a bike to come find me as I had been missing for a bit. Phew! I reached out to shake his hand but he declined as the race people scared everyone from touching an athlete. They said they would be DQ’d. Thanks Irondouches !! I heard this happened a lot and it disappointed me. But it was great to see him and get some encouragement. Although I never met him before it was a comfort and feeling of a friend. I walked to the next aid station and said Ill be at the finish soon. Grabbed all of the necessary food I was told and downed two cups of nastiness they called chicken broth, but Im not complaining because it worked, and off I went. Not a mile later and I saw one of my best friends!! Chris Webb was in the park and cheering me on!! Damn was I glad to see him!!  He was smiling carrying red bull and jogged along side of me. We talked, and it kept me jogging. It was on! He told me to go to it and would see me at the finish! Oh I was ready to rock and roll now!!

One more aid station before another damn climb and I started to actually run. People were cheering me through the park. Everyone was yelling, “Go Newton!!” as I passed in my bright kit. “You look strong!!” “Way to push!!” I was flying. From the mile marker 25 I looked at my watch and decided no matter what, this would be my fastest mile of the day. Stupid decision perhaps but I was here to finish and finish strong I would. I came down the shoot and saw my parents, my sister and then Tami! I heard my name announced and crossed the line. A volunteer guided me through to get my medal, shirt and hat. Then I sat down and started to shake and feel like shit again. Dr. Salinas came over to help me. He recognized me as we met on Thursday at the expo. Super nice guy and got me to the medical tent.

After a brief stay with the docs I walked out to meet everyone. Glad to hug and kiss Tami!! Hug my sister Wendy!! Hug Chris Webb!!  And Julie Hogg!! They were all just as beat as me and I felt bad but so happy to see them and be with them. Tami went to get my clothes bag and I was told to go get food. When I entered the “area” there was a table with chocolate milk, water and coke to drink. As for food- grapes, pretzels and that was it! There was no place to sit. No tents. No party. Nothing. I grabbed a bunch of waters and walked out to meet my crew! We would leave and go have an awesome dinner elsewhere.

Outside of finishing my biggest want was to go to the party at the finish line and cheer in the later people. I heard stories from friends. Seen pictures of the parties and was told countless times how awesome and inspiring it was. I was also told that there is nothing like coming down the end of the Ironman. They said it is “the Ironman moment.” I didn’t get any of this. My finish at half Ironman events was much better. Much more heart felt and much stronger.  I didn’t get choked up, excited or nothing. All I wanted to do was see my family.

As for NYC- I don’t have a lot of nice things to say. The people were very rude. Everything was expensive and outside of the pizza and deli’s, the place smelled like piss. I could care less if I ever return. The following day we went to pick up bikes, gear and everything else only to find many were missing. Apparently the security guards decided to steal a lot of items and well…that’s New York. Funny, but when we arrived in Atlanta, the mayor was on the news talking about how we are not like NYC. We treat others with hospitality. I invite you all to come to Georgia! Have a peach and a smile and relax!

As for Ironman, I will be hard pressed to ever do another full. The course was tough and that was a good thing, the volunteers were great and the people I met like Jimmy were awesome!! But the satisfaction and fun of crossing that line didn’t exist. There was no more gratitude, in fact less, than crossing the line at a half.

Race On!!

I haven’t written for a while and with good reason. As most of you know, I was injured in a bike crash 7 weeks ago. Besides the usual road rash and bump in the rib, I managed to separate my shoulder and start to feel sorry for myself. I won’t lie, it’s been lonely since my move to Atlanta and getting injured meant taking away the one thing I did have…triathlon. Injuries have a way of not only knocking you down physically but mentally. No matter how hard I tried and even still today, the pain, the impatience and all the bullshit that surrounds it sometimes gets to me. So why write now? I met a person who not only inspired me, but made me realize the experiences I’ve had since this happened, the people who have been there for me and the fight to get back is more rewarding than I could have ever imagined.

Her name is Elaine Honsa. Elaine is the grandmother of someone VERY special to me and I had the honor and privilege to meet her a few weeks ago. Obviously Elaine doesn’t get around as well as all of us athletes anymore, however, when we arrived, she not only stood up from the chair she was in, but grabbed a hold of her walker and by herself, made a special trek back to her room so that we could talk in private. As we made it down the hall way I couldn’t help but be humbled at the effort this lady was willing to put forth just to spend some time with us. Inspired…in awe…honored. After some catching up with her granddaughter, Elaine said something that I needed to hear, that I had forgotten and that would instantly pull me out of the haze and funk I had been in. I was walking around and looking at the pictures all over her room and outside of her door. One in particular was a black and white of this beautiful woman (Elaine) sitting on a pylon at a marina. With a smile that would light up any room, Elaine told us about the picture and continued to say; “It’s the memories in life. I have such great memories!” There was no mention of money, cars, houses or any type of material item. What trumped the list and what she cherished most in her life were her experiences and the people who she was surrounded by. I cannot thank Elaine enough and I think of her often. There is a picture she painted hanging in my girlfriend’s house and when I see it, that moment, those words and that incredible lady all come back to me. Thank you Elaine.

So here is how it went down:

One week after the crash I had enough with lying around and being a burden. With my one arm in a sling I decided to put Chicky on the trainer, fix what I could and just spin. 4 hours later I was ready to ride hahaha! You might think that falling off a trainer is damn near impossible…allow me to put that theory to rest for you. I did get a workout done and finally had a sense of accomplishment even if there was spoke sticking out of the front wheel and the handle bars were crooked. (go ahead and laugh, it is funny) As the days went on, so did the trainer rides and finally a week later I decided I was going to try and run. Keep in mind the temperature here is one million, eight hundred fifty thousand, two hundred and twenty five degrees and I am wearing a stupid black sling, in serious pain and trying to run. The scene: Ryan dressed in bright blue Newtons, black shorts, a bandana and a black sling, all while running down highway 92 trying not to bust his ass by tripping. Oh yeah!! Not only did I look stupid, but it hurt! Just like the doctor said it would. Grrrrrrr! That is pretty much how training would go for the next few weeks. Doctors would say no, I would push as much as I could, my arm hurt and my attitude sucked…until what you read above.

One week out of Ironman Augusta 70.3, and just like every other major race I’ve entered I am injured. We all know of Ironman events, but Im thinking of starting Ryanman events. This is where your training is going well and then out of nowhere Tanya Harding comes out of the bushes and whacks you with a baseball bat in any given area. Then you race. Honestly I don’t feel bad for myself but c’mon, one race without injury would be so nice. It’s all relative and I realize millions of people have huge problems, real problems they face daily, but regardless this is upsetting in my world.

This blog is about my journey, but without certain people, that journey would have ended a while ago. People that were there, who are selfless and people that I cannot ever repay for without them I wouldn’t be writing this and I need to acknowledge them.

First and foremost my amazing girlfriend, Tami Liptak. After driving over 2 hours to rescue me from hospital hell, she hasn’t left my side. No one has ever been there for me like her and nothing I say can express my appreciation for all that she has done and put up with. Doctor visits, painful sleepless nights, dealing with medications that make me unbearable… but never once did she lose her patience and never once was she not there for me completely. I could write pages upon pages of what she has done but it still could not show how much this incredible girl put up with. Thank you Tami!! I love you! You are truly incredible! Tami is running the Chicago marathon for charity. Check out he site and donate if you can. (http://www.active.com/donate/nfchicago2011/TLiptak1 )

Dr. Chris Webb. Always my friend and always the voice of reason to me. I trust him and looked to him for help. Even on his birthday(which I didn’t even realize) his concern was for me, finding me the right doctor and helping to facilitate my rehabilitation. You are one amazing friend Chris. Thank you! (http://www.chirowebb.com )

My coach, Dr. Suzanne Atkinson. She used resources to get me information, checked in on me and has continued to work with me the entire way through this. I am as prepared as I possibly could be given the circumstances and although the original goal has been changed, crossing that finish line WILL happen! You Rock Coach!! Thank you!(www.steelcityendurance.com )

Ok, enough of the sappy stuff, lets get onto race day. Yes I am still racing. Why? Because I said I would. I’m a man of my word and I committed to this race months ago! DNF doesn’t exist for me!!! In one week I will be swimming mostly one armed, riding hard and possibly running with that sling on. My goal is to finish but more importantly to have fun. This race is extremely special as I will have two very important people at the finish line waiting for me, Tami and Wendy. I have never had anyone at a finish line before at a large race. (Not Syracuse, and not at the 70.3 World Championships) Although I was surrounded by good friends, having family and someone incredibly special to me at the finish will push me through anything.

On race day, Tami will have my phone so give her updates and keep her busy as its going to be a long day for a spectathlete in my corner. Thank you to everyone for all of your messages, thoughts and support!

R A C E O N ! ! !

"If you don't like it, change it!"

The Pittsburgh Triathlon Club is the best!! Principles make it so. Confused as to why? Allow me to fill you in. When a small group of us got together and started the PTC, the basis for it was unanimous; an entity that supported athletes within the multisport arena in and around Pittsburgh. As I remember looking at everyone in the coffee shop that day, I saw abilities that ranged from no experience to over 4 years competing. The 2^nd official meeting I saw more newbies with no experience and added tenured Ironman Kona competitors to the group. As the months went on, we repeatedly increased in all aspects of membership, the reason was simple. The PTC was based on the principle that helping each other would help our sport and would lead to bigger and better things for everyone.

Do you remember the people who didn’t believe? The ones that ignored us and chose to alienate themselves? It didn’t matter, we reached out to everyone and kept our hand out, knowing this was the right thing to do, the possibilities were endless, the benefits astronomical and potential was limitless. How about the support from local and national businesses? Myself, Chad and Sean would beat down doors to get our name out there and find that much needed support. Thank you to BikeTek, Fleet Feet, Steel City Endurance, Coach Chad Multisport, Fuel Your Passion, The Athlete’s Eutopia, Over the Bar Bicycle Café, Eckerd Siemans, Rudy Project, XTerra, EGel and Beaker Concepts for taking a chance on the unknown group. Or how about those first PTC kits we got? I still wear mine...proudly!!

This group is not without its serious athletes. (pay close attention to this part) I mentioned Chad Holderbaum, he has qualified for Kona countless times by going 2^nd at Placid, and AZ and now I see he won overall at Musselman, how about the top 5 performance (Elite) at St. Anthony’s, Eagleman…the list goes on and on. Kim Schwabenbauer, first amateur woman in at Cozumel, top 10 at New Orleans, Eagleman, St. Croix and more. Beth Shutt – huge wins at WV, Eagleman, Cedar Point, etc etc. Ill just keep naming, Chris Nocera, The Cornmans, Matt Mauclair, Chris Rotelli, Seriously I could name drop for paragraphs, but that is not purpose of talking about them. What do all of these people have in common? They all give freely to the PTC. They help whenever they can. They support the club by giving talks, taking leadership roles, helping out at events and most importantly – they take others under their wing at races to make sure their club members are ready to go. PRINCIPLES!!! Selfless!!! We all know they are fast, hell they themselves know they are fast, but rather than act like tri-snobs and be pretentious, they give back.

All of what I write is known so why go into it when the majority of people that read this are PTC members anyway? Because it bugs me and- this is my blog damnit! Oh and maybe… I MISS YOU GUYS!!! I miss my training crew – James Wrubel, Sean McBurney & Chris Rotelli. (except running and riding hills with Chris. “If you sing again, I will stab you”) I miss people like Sarah putting OWS together on Friday nights and going to get dinner after with Nikki and Bergin as we all smell like the Allegheny. How about the drills and free clinic that Suzanne Atkinson puts on prior and then swims with everyone just because she enjoys it! I miss walking into BikeTek, getting greeted by Franklin and bullshitting with Frank and Angelo. They put themselves out there for me from the start and took great care of the PTC. I miss Tuesday night Crit races and watching Lee-Ann blow kisses as she destroys the entire pack and getting to ride that same oval on Thursdays chasing Chad until I puke. I miss figuring out the world’s problems according to Ryan with Ken after masters.

There is very little of that here. I ride alone a lot and when I see other triathletes I wave but get nothing back. I run and see guys or girls in tri kits and will say hi and try to see where they train or who with…but nothing back. The groups have no continuity and the discounts…yeah not even close. I shouldn’t be surprised. When I arrived here I was fortunate enough to talk to someone who let me in on the scene and pretty much told me all of this. The problem though, I have trouble accepting it. I haven’t met a single person here who could take any of the elite’s in Pittsburgh, so I have to ask: Why so serious? You gain nothing and lose so much.

My advice to PTCers, don’t take what you have for granted. Step up and continue to give back, continue to grow what you have. People like the ones mentioned above and others that give night and day like Jill Schapiro are rare, and Pittsburgh is lucky to have all of you!!!

Angelo told me numerous times that the PTC was unlike any other triathlon club he had ever known. I was proud of that and even prouder to see it continue. Bravo!! So Im thinking about changing it up down here. A prior mentor of mine told me if I didn’t like something, change it. Hmm, considering launching something big, something Atlanta has never seen and something that will bring that camaraderie back to the sport I love here in the Atlanta. There are triathletes everywhere, why are we not working together? Race day is race day, go hard and reach your goals, but wouldn’t it be nice to do this with the help and support of others?

I have some friends here at The Sports Factory, North Atlanta Multisport Club, Endurance Concepts and The Atlanta Tri Club. Im thinking this is a great start and a fantastic group to get things going!! Beware Atlanta multisport athletes, you may just find yourselves becoming a part of something bigger…