Consider this a journal entry.
Yesterday was the day my father finally competed in the Ironman World Championship race in Kona, Hawaii. I can't describe how special it has been to be here this week and spend this time with my family and father. The Ironman race, a 2.4 mile swim, followed by a 112 mile bike ride, topped off with a marathon (26.2 miles), entices the most extreme athletes. The race took some unexpected turns, but it was special for all of us. Read on for more details about the different parts of the event.
This video hardly does the swim start justice, but you can get a small glimpse into how amazing the morning was with thousands of spectators, 2,100 athletes, and 5,000 volunteers. My siblings and I were all on the edge of our seats in anxiety, hoping that our father would be alright. Only four months after his second brain surgery, he was competing miraculously in the World Championship race despite the terminal cancer and all that comes along with it. My sister put it well with her Facebook update. "Four months ago today our Dad had his second brain surgery in a year. Over the last 15 months he has had 2 brain surgeries, 6 weeks of radiation, 11 months of chemotherapy, and 3 rounds of Avastin. The fact that he is even out here is a miracle in itself. True Ironman."
The canon signaled the beginning of the race, startling me but also bringing with it a sense of relief that it had finally commenced. We waited at the dock for two hours and three minutes until our dad finally came through the transition checkpoint to start the bike ride. He was moving much slower than his previous races, but that was to be expected. His body was compromised, but he had decided one year ago that cancer would not dictate his life and this race was proof.
Kona is a particularly challenging race due to the extreme geography of the region. The warm saltwater swim is nice, but once you get onto the bike course you ride through the city for four miles and then you are left completely alone, besides the aid stations stationed every ten miles. The course takes you through very rigorous uphills and downhills as you wind through the lava fields that have come to characterize this island. The scorching heat and almost constant headwind challenged racers to their limits.
We had connections with several of the volunteers stationed along the bike course who kept us updated on our dad, as well as with a GPS tracker on his waist to give us minute-by-minute updates as to his speed, distance, and position on the course. These special trackers had been given to only a few of the contestants (NFL MVP Hines Ward, chef Gordon Ramsey, etc.) and our dad was one of them! We hung out around the city as we watched and prayed that our dad would make it back in time for the bike cut-off time. If he wasn't back to us by 5:30 p.m. then he would be stopped and not allowed to finish the race. I personally hadn't even considered this option, thinking that if anything his medical condition would be the reason for his removal from the race. As time ticked on and my dad kept a steady pace that was slightly slower than necessary, he was eventually picked up by a support vehicle, only five miles away from the bike transition area. Mile 107. Needless to say I was devastated. My emotions were all over the place. I was overjoyed that my dad had made it that far. What a blessing! I was sad that he hadn't had the chance to start the run. I was angry because of cancer and how it had stolen half of what made my dad Dad. I felt lonely as I walked by myself along the rode where I had gone to try to cheer him on the last two miles of the race. I kept praying for help from Heavenly Father, for me and for my dad. When we found him in the back parking lot at the hotel, he had his usual smile and he was streaked with salty residue leftover from all of his sweat. He said he felt fine and I took his bike from his hands as I embraced him. Tears filled my eyes as I felt all of those same emotions again. "You're amazing, Dad." I couldn't choke out much else.
I think it will take some time to sort through everything that I am feeling. I still am confused. I still feel a certain emptiness inside. I know God is here, but I need to seek him out. I know it is in these times when we experience the most growth. I have to pick myself up again, and I have to help my siblings do the same. My dad will continue to be an inspiration to thousands. His journey is not over, and neither is his Ironman. He may not have finished the bike to start the marathon, but as a family we will finish it as a team. As is the Mission Statement of Team IronDean:
As members of Team IronDean, we don't let cancer dictate how we live our lives. We set our goals and reach those goals. We don't give up, regardless of the odds. We conquer. We rise above. We are Team IronDean.
