MY FIRST RACE

I was recently asked about my first race.

Have you ever been out in the middle of a workout or a race and had everything going bad? You know the moments. It starts raining, the pedestrians, bike riders or rollerbladers are getting in the way. Or you spend more time dodging potholes and broken glass then you do pushing. On days like that I have often asked myself “How and why did I ever start this silly sport?” Whenever I ask this question I always come back to my very first race.
It all started on July 4th weekend 1996. I was sitting in my favorite Cape Cod pub. Having a few beers, singing and dancing to some Irish tunes with some friends. During the band’s break, Dan, the bands lead and pub owner asked me if I was going to do their road race in August. Knowing that I was very active in wheelchair sports, such as basketball and skiing, he assumed I was into racing too. At this point I have never done a race. I always thought that Henry Ford found a way to mass produce cars in order to keep people from having to run or push long distance. So I told him I didn’t really think so.
When the band started up again Dan wasn’t ready to let me off the hook. He decided to ask me again, from the stage, won’t I do his race. He even got the crowd on his side. And after a few minutes of razing and the crowds chanting of “do it, do it” I gave in and told him and the crowd that I would do it. I received a quick cheer and we went right back to dancing and singing. Only problem now.......where would I get a racing chair inside of three weeks.
Well the problem of the racing chair was solved a few days later. A friend that I play basketball with offered to hook me up with a “loaner”. About a week before the race I picked up the racer. Now another problem. The weather didn’t cooperate. It rained and rained and I never got the chance to go out for a few miles of workouts. I wasn’t to worried. I have always been in good shape and figured “Oh hell, I can do it. After all, it’s only five miles”. Yea right!
Race day came and the sun was shining and the temps had climbed into the high 90’s. Ok, so it’s gonna be hot. I can handle it. After the drive down to the cape, I rolled into the pub to check in. After all, I had pre-registered. I went into the pub and checked the list for my name and number. Nothing, here .. Hmmmm, Maybe I should be concerned? Nahhhh........
I spoke to Dan and he squared it away. I was assigned number 295. Maybe I’ll play it in the lottery. Could be my lucky number.
While waiting for race time I checked out my equipment. Let’s see, tires, three of them with air included. Water bottle, yup, got one of those. Oh yes, gloves. I got my old batting gloves from college. That was the sum of the equipment check. I might be a rookie but, I am no idiot. Ya wanna bet? I was soon to discover that I had a lot to learn.
Race time arrived and I wasn’t alone on the starting line. Dave Harrison, the provider of the chair had arrived. Along with his years of pushing. Also, Jamie Legeyt, a 10 year old from these parts. Home field advantage for him. Not a problem.
The gun went off and so did I. At first I was feeling pretty good. I managed to stay with Dave through the first couple of turns. Even Jamie was with us. Not bad for a kid I thought. After the first half mile we cleared the turns and were on a straight away. That’s when Dave took off and I never saw him again. Not a problem. He knows what he’s doing. But suddenly, Jamie began creeping up along side of me. OK, this is gonna be embarrasing...beat by a 10 year old.
Jamie continued to cruise by me and I never saw him till the end too. I pushed along at not warp speed. The runners had caught up with me and were passing me with ease. I got a few cheers and words of encouragement and that kept me going.
At the top of mile 3, I realized that I was getting the some unbelievable blisters on both hands. Boy those were gonna hurt. Well, I’ll deal with that later
Mile 4. My arms and shoulders are screaming. My heart feels as if it wants to crash right through my chest. And I just kept thinking ”who invented this dumb sport?” I was just realizing that I was more than half way through this ordeal. Hey, I can do this....
Suddenly, BANG!!! Just as I pushed down on the push rims, two screws on the right side push rim pulled right out and the rim separated from the wheel. At the same time my hand jammed into the spokes and I cut myself pretty good. Great, the last thing I thought was this was a blood sport. I had finally figured out what was wrong and then another screw let go. Now out of 6 screws, there was only 3 holding the rim in place. OK, mental note, add the push rims to the equipment checklist. This was getting tougher. Now I had to time every push for when the good side of the push rim was up top.
Into the 5th mile. Hey, I am almost done. Just a little under a mile left. I can do this. I was sailing along. Well kinda. Turning onto RT 28. I remember this road. The pub is on this road. OK, the big finish, lets make it look good. Man, do I hurt and am I thirsty. Went through the water miles ago. I can wait till the end.
Suddenly, there it was. An oasis in the distance. The Pub!! Right where I had left it The same place this nightmare began. Soon, real soon, I’ll be sitting back and enjoying a cold beer and hotdog.
I came zooming in. Well, more like a crawl. But, I came in. Looking up at the calender....ahhh, I mean the clock, I see 39:46. Well, what can you expect for a first race.
I make for my truck to get my broken, sweaty, blistered and bloody body out of the racing chair and cool off with a cold beer. As I pass the back of Jamie’s dad’s van, I see the kid sitting in the shade with a ice cold soda and a mouth-watering hotdog. All comfy, cool and not a worry in he world. The least he could have done is break a sweat.
Well, that’s was my first race. And for all the pain and torture I cause myself, I have to admit, I LOVED IT. Every bit of the 39:40 that was on the clock. I loved it all. So when a race or workout is going bad and I have no idea why I do this, I realize that I just love it.

A new addition to the gang.

Say Hello to Ringo! or was it Rico? Nemo? Fabio? Groucho?..... He doesn't answer to anything yet. So what difference does it make? The final name is still to be determined.
We adopted the little 1.5 year old beagle. He's already discovered how to sneak out of the house, via the cat door. Also, he doesn't believe that any of the dog toys should stay in the toy basket. Let's not forget that anything breakable that is left at low levels, will get broken when the 2 dogs get to wrestling. Actually, make that anything breakable no matter what height it's at.

Sooner or later he does get tired. He then joins his new playmate, Lola, on the living room couch for some much need rest. That would be Ringo on the left and Lola on the right. Of course that's the lovely and talented Amy, the love of my life sitting on the floor. She's trying to get some work done, but the dogs believe that their rest is far more important. I'm guessing the humans didn't get a vote on this.

Ringo came to us from BONES. Beagles of new England States. Good People doing some tough work. So if you're looking for a beagle, look them up.

Just a few other projects

Noah's Ark. All the animals were cut and painted by hand.

Everybody loves Kangaroos

The "island" in our old apartment's kitchen.

The door on the end tilts out to find the trash barrel.

The cutting board lifts up to wipe the top down right into the barrel. I miss that place at times. But I wouldn't give up the house.

Another project finished!

Hey, Guess what? I finished another home project. Yes, I'm showing yet another woodwork project. But with no foster kids in the house right now, I got no one else to show off to. Amy expects this stuff now.

This is the bench for the dining room table. Amy is decorating it as a kinda of country dining room theme. For the table she wanted a bench. What Princess wants, Princess get. Here it is.

My First Try at a Tri…

For the longest time I've wanted to try myself in a triathlon. For years I never got around to it, always using the excuse that I didn’t have a handcycle. Well, I lost that excuse last fall when I was able to get a handcycle for free, my favorite price, from another athlete that was retiring from the sport. I didn’t get to train much as the winter had set in and outdoor fun was pretty much a wash until spring.
So, spring arrived and I picked my first triathlon. Not being so sure of my swimming abilities I choose a race based on the shorter swim distance. 250 yards in a pool. I can handle that. I think. After a few weeks of pool training I was able to do the 250 yards in a reasonable time of 7:20. OK. Stop stalling. It's time to register.
20 May 2007. The Lions Spring Sprint Triathlon. 250 yard swim, 9.3 mile bike with the handcycle and 3.2 mile run in the racing chair. I can handle this. I think.
Race day: The swim was first. I didn’t know what to expect on the set up. It was a 5 lane pool and they had to feed 300 athletes through. We entered the pool according to our number. Each athlete was assigned a number according to their registered swim times. Ok, that makes sense. We had to swim up and back in each lane. Then swim under the lane line and go up and back again. This caused me a few problems because I hadn’t practiced changing lanes like this. I had practiced my turns at the wall over and over. I only had to do 5 wall turns. The others were a full stop, duck under the lane line and take off again. Oh well. Lesson one learned. I was a little nervous as I waited my turn. It seems that everyone around me had a swimmers build and the ones right in front of me were swimming at a faster pace than I was trained for. One of the friends on my support team told me not to worry. Because to her is seemed that everyone was going out fast and slowing down by the second or third lane. She kept telling me to go out at a pace that I can hold and not to worry about the others. So I did. My swim total was 9:43. A lot slower then I wanted or expected, but surprisingly, I did pass a few people in the water. Not bad for a gimp.
Lesson two was learned when getting out of the pool. I told the guys on my support team that I would climb onto the deck and then they can grab me under the arms and lift me onto my wheelchair. We really should have gone over that with some more detail. As I started to climb out of the pool, the guys suddenly grabbed me and tried to drop me onto the wheelchair. Chest first. Not part of the game plan. It took a few second for them to realize this isn’t going to work. They then lowered me back down onto the deck so I could turn around. It was then a quick lift onto the seat and away we went to the transition area.
Once outside we discover that it was raining again. When we went into the pool, it had stopped raining and the sun even looked to be attempting an appearance. Well, now it was drizzling. I had left my clothing set out to make it easy to do a quick change. So, now my sweatpants and socks were damp. I had to slide into the damp sweatpants for warmth. After 30 seconds fighting with a wet sock I just ditched both of them and put on my shoes, singlet (SRR of course), gloves and helmet. As I was gearing up, 3 of my support crew took off to get their bikes. This being my first triathlon I got permission from the RD for some course support. The roads were open to vehicle traffic and the bike route was on a long winding narrow road. Anyway, I was dressed, mounted up and just started to roll out. We were off…!! Or so I thought. Only after two cranks on the pedals, I heard a big click. As sounded as if I was switching gears, but I wasn’t and. I was getting nothing for forward motion. It seems that the chain had jumped off the gear. I was about to get off the handcycle to fix it when my buddy, Andy, ran over. He told me to stay in the seat. He had seen it happen and could fix it quickly. It took him about 5 seconds and we were finally off. More lessons learned in my very first transition.
We hit the road really lagging behind. But I had decided not to race the clock. I just wanted to do the event and get the feeling of the whole thing. The first mile was kinda flat, so, I decided to swallow down a Cliff Bar. One of the smart things I did that day. I would need the energy from it soon. After about 1 mile of cycling, the hills started to go up, up and up some more. Since it was raining the roads were wet and slippery. The steeper the hills got the tougher it was to peddle up them. I saw many of those bi-ped types walking their bikes up the hill. Well, that really wasn’t an option for me. So, I just had to suck it up. The road got real narrow at a few points and had some blind curves on it. Thankfully, I had my support team. Diane, would ride up front and yell back warnings about oncoming cars. Jim was 20-30 yards behind me doing the same thing. At the same time I had Beth riding on my left wing. She was keeping me up to date on all kinds of things such as mileage since my odometer wasn't working. It was also in the first couple of miles I discovered that I had forgotten to start my watch at the pool. This was getting better and better. It was only 9.3 miles, but man, is seemed like a marathon. After a mere 1:26:27, I arrived back at the transition area.
Once again, we discovered that we should have worked out the transition better. In an attempt to keep things dry, Andy had put my wheelchair into my truck. He didn’t think I’d need it until the very end. Well, great thought, but I needed it to sit on to climb into the racing chair. While I stripped off some wet gear and pulled out my racing gloves, Andy ran to the truck to get the chair. By the time he was back, I was ready for it. I sat on the wheelchair and slipped into the racing chair. Now, I’m back in my office. I know what I’m doing in the racing chair. So, I thought. The whole transition took no more than 3 minutes and we were off. Not bad this time. Di & Jim decided that because it was raining, they would stay with me. I really didn’t need them out there, but since I was bringing up the rear of the race I welcomed the company. The rains had decided they were here to stay and a one point it got really heavy. The first real up hill we hit was so steep that my hands started slipping off the push rims. DUH! I forgot to spray the wheels with spray-tac. Spray–tac is a spray on glue keeps my hands from sliding off the wet push rims. I even had a brand new can in my gear bag! Another lesson learned. Now, down hill runs are usually my favorite thing. We were flying down this hill and having a ball. Di had run ahead and came back to tell me that there was a hard blind left turn at the bottom. I hit the brakes to slow down. The wheel just ran through the wet brake. It was useless for a few seconds. It suddenly grabbed and I started to skid sideways. So, I had to grab the main wheels to slow down and get control. I finally had control again. Just in time to come to almost a complete stop at the bottom and make the turn. This was not good as all that momentum from the hill was lost. In these conditions, the 3.2 miles should have only taken me 20 minutes at worst. But between the rains, the hills and a stop for some water (I left the camel back on the handcycle) it took me 41:42. Probably the worst 3 miles I’ve ever done, but again, I wasn't racing the clock. My over all finish time was 2:17:53. I don’t think it’s totally accurate, but with a chip strapped around my ankle, how can I argue with it? Also, I was on the bike course and awful long time.
Lots of lessons were learned that day. One is that I can’t operate in a triathlon the way I do an average road race. Usually, I just show up with my racing chair, gloves and sometimes my helmet and usually the beer cooler. I go out, race and have fun. You can’t do that with a tri. First, with the handcycle, the racing chair, the wheelchair and my gear bag, I didn’t have room for the cooler. Second, transitions have to be practiced. Especially, if you have a support team. We really should have run through the pool exit and the gear changes a little more than talking about it over beers. Most importantly, I couldn’t have done this alone. Di, Beth, Jim and Andy were the key parts of my completion. I couldn’t have done it with out them. They say no man is an island. It was proven on Sunday. Although, with all the rain we were having, I felt like one.

My advice. Go try a tri. You’ll love it.

Cheers, Chris