Long course is a better distance for me.

I'm not really fast, but I can suffer for a long time.  With the Olympic Distance races, I just feel like I'm getting warmed up at the two hour mark when I run out of real estate and the race is over.  Even when I was racing bikes for a living, I felt better in the last three hours of a six hour race than the first three.  So I was really looking forward to the Macon 1/2 IM this past Saturday.  

Then my heel happened.  Trying to be smart about it (which goes against my nature), I was about to bag the whole thing when I learned they were offering an Aquathon.  1.2mile swim and a 56mile bike.  Cool!  I could still race and let the heel heal.  So I headed down to Macon the day before the race as planned sans running shoes to get some training in--after all, racing is the best training.  I wasn't quite as motivated as I should've been going into an event.  Not being able to run left me feeling incomplete.  And as I stood in line as two people tried to register over 800 folks before the sun went down, I felt even more isolated.  Most of these folks were here to do the full monty (or the 1/2 monty, if you want to be specific), and the talk was about the heat everyone would face on the run.  Everyone but me...

Not feeling very triathletic, I picked up my race bag from registration and headed back to my car.  Bikes had to be in transition by 7 p.m.  I had more than enough time to put my number and race wheels on the bike before heading back to the hotel to chill for the evening.  I endured a 15min scare when I thought I had left the keys to the bike rack where my Guru was locked on top of my car at home.  But after carfully ransacking my gear, I found them which successfully brought my blood pressure down to acceptable levels.  I guess I wouldn't be going home early.

When I got to my hotel, the front desk guy couldn't find my reservation under my name nor my confirmation number.  I was beginning to think I wasn't meant to do this race.  But he finally gave me one of his last 2 rooms (which he saved for just this type of ocassion), and I brought my bag and pillow in and cranked the a.c.   I ate dinner, stretched, called the wife, and then watched one hour of a Rockumentary (Rocky 4) before turning off the lights in search of sleep.  It was difficult to find, more from heat than nerves, but I finally drifted off until the alarm woke me at 5 a.m.

A quick breakfast on the way to the race site, final prep work (which is dramatically less for some reason when you're not doing the run), and I was ready to go.  So I went down to the beach to actually warm up before the swim--something which, in my case, is a bit redundant as the swim is the warm up.  Familiar faces started showing up, and my desire to do all 3 disciplines grew as I realized it was going to be a really competitive race.  

Out of the water 5th in my wave in 29mins, I jogged up the enormous hill to transition and knew I'd made the right decision--even this short jaunt made my heel complain a bit.  But I tried to change my thoughts to the positive as I hopped on my bike and hammered out of transition.  The wind was already blowing as I picked off a couple of the faster swimmers and set my sights on a third in the distance.  I have to be carful and ride only at about 80% as one of the side effects of the daily chemo I take is cramping, and already my hamstrings were quivering ominously.  When I caught him, he was strong enough to hang with me for the next 20miles or so before thinking better of my pace and falling back a bit.  He came in to T2 a few minutes after me and went on to a 2nd place overall in the 1/2.  I was a bit disappointed not being able to test myself against him or the pro (Dan Moss) who won but knew that running would've ruined me for the season.  There's still a lot of 2008 to go.  And if leukemia has taught me anything, it's that just toeing the line is a victory beyond most people's prayers.  Yet as I looked at the 2nd place tropy I won, I couldn't help but want more.

And I truly hope that's normal.