I met Dennis Vanderheiden, the founder of AiT, at the Horsetooth 10k swim a few years ago. He had recently seen video of Rick and Dick Hoyt at The Ironman World Championships and was inspired to create a charity that would bring opportunities to kids and adults who would never have the chance to participate in triathlons and running races without a partner. The disabled athletes are not able to assist in any way--they're along for the ride. The experience gives them freedom and joy that would otherwise be unavailable to them and has some real therapeutic benefits as well. Dennis had been planning to travel to Florida for this race on his own but there were two athletes who needed partners.
I was able to take the time away from work that the trip required and Teegan changed some plans and cancelled others in order to allow me to get away. Within a day of being invited, I had a plane ticket and was set to race. Thanks to a special contact at Giant Bicycles, we were offered a free loan of a couple of bikes from The Bike Route in Naples. We needed to fly with the large trailer/strollers that our athletes would ride in. Not having to fly our bikes as well was incredibly helpful.
I left Colorado on the morning of a serious cold snap and arrived in Florida on a warm Friday night. Early the next morning, we headed to the race site to volunteer. This race is a two-day festival--there are full (iron) and half distance races on Saturday and the short-course races on Sunday. We were on our feet for three separate volunteer shifts--about 8 hours total. Not exactly the kind of preparation that leads to a great race result the next day, but neither of us were worried about top finishes.
On race day, I was up before the alarm. I wasn't nervous about racing--just excited. We arrived at transition a little under an hour before the start of the race. It seemed like plenty of time but by the time I set up my area, went for a warmup run, met our disabled athletes, blew up the rafts, and got to the beach, we had only a few minutes to spare.
My partner was Tony. He’s about 20 years old and has cerebral palsy and mental retardation. The introduction was brief but I was told that he raced last year and I should expect him to move around if he’s excited. He doesn’t speak so that would be the only way to know all was going well.
As the announcer called out one minute to the start, I was still getting my wetsuit zipped up and pulling on the harness. At 15 seconds to go, I was finally ready. I took a deep breath and relaxed. This was going to be fun!
.jpg)
The horn sounded and the field took off running. I should clarify that this was a “normal” triathlon--Dennis and I were the only ones paired up with disabled athletes. I waded in gently, letting the fast folks go. I told Tony, “here we go,” walked the slack out of the rope, and dolphin dived in and took my first strokes. There was a lot of activity around us but I was calm and when I peeked back, the raft was peacefully bobbing along behind me. After about 50 meters, we reached a sandbar. I stood up and walked the raft over it, then started swimming out to the first turn buoy. We were just about in the middle of the pack at this point and there were a lot of swimmers around us. When I was learning to use the equipment, Dennis advised me not to worry about other swimmers--they’d get out of the way. So I started making my way through the pack and took the first turn.
Every time I peeked back, I could see Tony’s arm. If anything was going to go wrong today, the worst possible place for it to happen would be in the water. Seeing that arm sticking out the side of the raft set me at ease. We were passing a lot of people and by the time we reached the second turn buoy on the triangular course, there were only about a dozen swimmers in front of us. Over the sand bar again and then the final, short section of swimming. I think we came out of the water in 6th or 7th position. Not bad, even though we weren’t really trying to win the race. The crowd was going nuts but I had a bit of tunnel vision and wasn’t able to take it in.
.jpg)
Transition took a long time. At the beach, two helpers from Tony’s residence home unloaded him from the raft. Someone unclipped me and we headed up the beach to the trailer. I struggled a bit getting the harness off--my first instinct was to get out of my wetsuit, but that was out of order. By the time we reached the road at the end of the sand, I was back on track. Tony was buckled into the trailer as I popped off my wetsuit and slipped into an extra pair of shoes.
We started the short run (maybe 200-300 meters) to transition. I was pulling the trailer like a rickshaw. A few athletes ran past us and we passed one or two ourselves. Now in the transition area, I slipped on my bike shoes and an Athletes in Tandem race shirt, and clipped my helmet on. Connecting the trailer to the bike took a few tries and soon enough, we were ready.
As I pushed the bike and trailer out of transition, I got my first taste of the difficult ride ahead. Tony weighs about 110 pounds and the trailer another 35. Even when I had us all going forward, it took a lot of effort to stay moving. Once on the bike, I was working hard in my small ring the whole way out. The course was out-and-back with minimal elevation gain but a slight headwind on the way out. I was putting out a pretty strong effort, but getting passed by just about everyone. A lot of folks had very kind words for us as they went by and the police officers controlling the intersection and spectators gave us thumbs up and extra cheers.
.jpg)
Just like in the water, I could feel Tony moving around behind me. A good sign. I talked to him a bit--calling out little bumps and assuring him we’d go faster on the way back. We made the turnaround and I was finally able to shift into the big ring, but the combination of the extra weight and the shape of the trailer (with it’s big opening in front--like a small parachute) made the ride back tough too. I just focus on keeping my cadence high and my effort strong as we were passed by a ton of racers--young and old, lean and fat. We didn’t catch a single bike ahead of us. Normally this wouldn’t just be discouraging, it would be soul-crushing. But not today. I told Tony that we’d get them all on the run.
The second transition took a lot of time as well. Once I unhitched the trailer, I had to tip it up so Tony was laying on his back. Then I had to flip the metal bar that attached the trailer to the bike and attach a wheel to the front. It’s a pretty simple process, but it takes time and I was trying to hurry. I took off my helmet and changed my shoes. We were on our way out of transition.
Once out on the run, we started passing people almost immediately. The run was also an out-and-back course so we saw the top finishers coming in as we were headed out. Even the folks who were out of breath and suffering on the run managed a “nice job” as we went past. The run was very flat except for one hill near the turnaround. Running with the stroller wasn’t too much trouble, although I kept both hands on it most of the time so I couldn’t swing my arms. But going over that hill (and coming back) pushing all the extra weight and holding it back on the downhill scrubbed a little extra energy out of me.
.jpg)
By far, the funniest moment was on the way back when I passed someone who said, “what a good brother.” No time to explain--we were moving on. A couple of people later, I hear, “what a good dad.” That’s probably a bit closer... Soon we were making the final couple of turns and headed to the finish line. I slowed my pace a bit so we could enjoy the cheers as we crossed the finish line and received our medals. We had worked pretty hard for 90 minutes but I was on an emotional high. There was hard effort, but I felt no pain on this day.
After the race, we answered some questions for a reporter and posed for a few pictures. (http://www.naplesnews.com/news/2013/jan/18/athletes-tandem-lend-more-helping-hand/) Then the guys were headed back to their home and Dennis and I were left to pack up and head back to the hotel. I was with Tony for just a few hours, but hopefully gave him a fun morning that holds benefits beyond simple recreation.
For me, well, this was a memorable race to say the least. We finished 86th out of 226 athletes and had a top 10 swim and top 25 run--not too bad all things considered. But this one wasn’t about our time or placing. I have come to the realization that triathlon is most often a selfish sport. We all have our own reasons for racing and I think the net benefit is immensely positive (of course). Having the opportunity to give back in this way--to race for someone else’s benefit, left me feeling good about the whole experience.
As we were packing up, another racer stopped to talk to me. He was quite passionate and insistent that what I had done was a really big deal and he was getting emotional as he talked with me. He explained the the 4 S's of Life: Survival, Stability, Success, Significance. They’re on a hierarchy--like Maslow. He poked me on my chest and told me I had achieved significance. That's something I aspire to--today, maybe I was there for a few hours, at least...
