You Can Always Come Back

Al Truscott

In the last few weeks, I've found myself in at least half a dozen conversations with my age-peer athlete-friends, which have illustrated different sides of staying active as we age. I think I'll start sharing them, maybe once every couple of weeks. Who know what I might learn?

I thought of titling this, "You Never Know When it Might Be Your Last Race", but the actual story is more hopeful.

Last Sunday, at my local sprint tri (the Triple Threat at Ft. Lewis), I was talking with someone I hadn't met before, who, seeing my Team USA tri suit, started telling me about his upcoming trip to Budapest for the ITU World's, and wondered if I wold be there. Just as I was catching his name, someone else comes up on my right, big old grin on his face, saying "So, Al, you're still doing these?" It was Charlie, whom I'd last seen at a tri about 4 years ago, just before he got diagnosed with prostate cancer. I've known him for about 30 years. We used to work together, and then early in my tri career he began encouraging me to think bigger - he saw a level of talent I didn't know I had.

"Well, I could say the same about you," I replied. "You're looking good; I'm glad to see you here!" He kept grinning, and asked me about my races this year, how much I was working, and told me about his job doing flight physicals at the AF base. Then launched into his cancer treatment and current state of recovery, and others we knew with the same disease.

We ended musing about the need to keep racing, mostly as an excuse to keep active. I repeated the line from a Bob Dylan song from the early 60's, "he not busy being born is busy dying." (It's All Right, Ma, I'm Only Bleeding)

As Charlie left to get his stuff in the car, he offered one last thought, "Keep racing, Al. you never know when it might be your last."

I countered, "Aren't you glad you came back?"

A very common theme among triathletes my age is injury or illness which seems to put an end to any hope of doing another triathlon: broken pelvis in a car crash, ruined knee cartilage precluding any more running, ruptured achilles tendon, repaired, and re-ruptured, cancer threatening to cut life short, much less an athletic career, etc etc. And yet I see them all getting back into the race, not at the same level they were, but out there nonetheless, feeling the joy of movement, the warmth of friendship, and glad just to be able to do something with their bodies. I'm lucky so far to NOT have any injuries or illness, but when it happens (it is when, not if), I hope I have the courage and strength to get up and keep moving, as much as I am able.

DocHoffart

Al,
It's something I joke about with my wife, time to sell everything and work on my golf handicap if I'm not going to get faster on my run. There will be a day that injuries or illness will make this hobby much, much harder and this story will help keep perspective. Thanks Doc.

Vince

Nemo Brauch

Nice story Al. I have often joked with friends that I race only because it gives me an excuse to do the training. And as I get older, that becomes more of the truth. This year in particular I have witnessed so many various reasons that have pulled friends out of the game for a while. It is a huge reminder to enjoy what I CAN do, vs focus on what I can not.

Bob Irwin

Al - thanks for the story - I needed that after my race last weekend.

Spokane_Al

I think as we get older we get mentally tougher. A couple of years ago I came back from serious medical problems involving extensive surgery. During that period I tended to take things as they came and still remember the first painful, slow ½ mile walk, run slog. But I kept at it and although much of the speed I had 30 years ago is gone, I am still at it.

I believe that if I had experienced those medical issues a few decades earlier my attitude may have been much different. But then again, after over 30 years of running and the last five or so of triathlon, this stuff is pretty much imprinted into my DNA.

Jim Yanoschik

I was at the IM California (when it was a full IM) and passed Perry Redina as his body laid on the side of the road. Perry was killed on the bike course when he crashed coming down a steep hill. That day affected me for the rest of my life. You have a lot of time to think on the bike when you see something like that. I thought to myself, Perry woke up that day excited because this was going to be a special day in his life. He had spent the greater part of the past year training for this special day. He did not realize that it would be his last day. Then I had the epiphany that this could be my last day. I try to remember each morning that this could be my last day and go out and try to make each day special. Sometime it is hard to do when you get caught up in life.