2009 Beach to Battleship Triathlon - A Few Images

Before a chilly early November morning start...













Out on the bike alone...











The Manning "handlers" along with Melissa (swim partner), Bob (bike escort) and Mike at the finish...

Beach to Battleship Race Report

B2B Afterward ---
So what did I learn? A good friend of mine once told me “great things happen only when they are supposed to happen.” If adversity teaches us to appreciate accomplishment then my two year roller coaster ride to the start (and finish) of the 2009 B2B ranks right up there as one of my greatest accomplishments not only in sports but in life, as well. The lessons I learned and the knowledge I gained were worth the sacrifice.

At this point of my life, finishing an event like a half ironman is not about collecting another medal or award. It’s not about earning bragging rights or making a headline or newsreel. And it’s not about being the first to do something that has never been done before. Sports – like life - is about making the most of what you have been given and taking full advantage of what comes your way. Life rolls on…

Special thanks go to Bill and Jeremey at Setup Events for including, welcoming and accommodating the Para-Triathletes in this (and all) their events.

Melissa Bell and Bob Nixon from Inside Out Sports in Charlotte were my awesome swim and bike partners. (They are my friends, too. Believe it or not, Bob was also racing when I crossed the finish line of my first triathlon in 1995 and Melissa finished the Boston Marathon for the first time this year, too.)

Aunt Lorraine, Uncle Ed and Cousin Eddie had a much better visit to Wilmington this year than in 2008. Your love and heavy lifting, as well as your support through the years, means more to me than you’ll ever know.

And to my fiancée, Sarah, what can I say? I love (and appreciate) you more and more each day. Thank you so very much for standing by me, supporting me, encouraging me and loving me these past two years while I worked toward this crazy finish line.

2009 Beach to Battleship Race Report

B2B Take 2 ---

Fast forward to 2009. All systems “go.” My health was better, life was in balance and my training was where I wanted it to be. I was confident, too, having recently completed a Peter Reid-esque (i.e., a solo, focused, high mileage) training camp on North Carolina’s Outer Banks where I gained self-confidence and became comfortable with the demands of long distance handcycling, running/pushing and hydration and nutrition.

A few days before the race, I tuned up my gear, loaded the van and headed to the beach.

Our arrival and race prep in Wilmington went much better this time. We drove to the coast on Wednesday (laughing when we passed the spot on the side of the road that I had barfed repeatedly one year prior) and arrived in time to enjoy dinner on Wrightsville Beach. On Thursday, we drove the course from start to finish, picked up my number at the Expo, reviewed race logistics with the folks at Setup Events and completed the pre race checklist in time to enjoy a lazy afternoon strolling Downtown Wilmington.

If you have never been to this old coastal city, let me tell you it’s a pretty hip and cool place. In addition to funky shops, galleries and haunted pubs, Wilmington is a popular television and film production locale. I had a blast telling Sarah that such classics as Dawson’s Creek, One Tree Hill and the highly praised, Freddie Prinze, Jr. and Jessica Biel smash hit, Summer Catch, were all (or partly) filmed in Wilmington. (I don’t think she was as impressed as I was. Ha ha.)

Friday was a rest day and a day to meet family members who were coming to watch and serve as my “handlers.” Before Aunt Lorraine, Uncle Ed and Cousin Ed Manning (my “race day handlers” and Southern supporters) drove from North Myrtle Beach, Sarah and I checked in my racing chair at the Battleship T2. We also did a wetsuit dry run to make sure we knew how much time to allocate to the task on race day. (If you have ever tried donning a wetsuit then you know it takes all sorts of wiggling and squirming. When you are in a wheelchair and body parts don’t move like they should, let’s just say the process becomes exponentially more complicated and time consuming.) Anyway, when the Mannings arrived, we dropped my handcycle at the swim to bike transition, did a walkthrough of the swim and bike transition logistics, watched an amazing sunset from the fishing pier and had a relaxing carbo load dinner.

Aaaahhh, pre race jitters and sleepless nights. Let’s just say I didn’t sleep soundly the night before the race. I guess a race two years in the making warranted a semi-sleepless night. By the time the early morning alarm sounded, I had already been awake for hours. Isn’t it funny what you think about while lying awake in bed awake during the wee hours? After going over every race detail in my head several times, I still had time to reason a fairly accurate, multinational strategy for world peace and the end of human suffering. It’s amazing the way the mind works when you try to block out something important. I’m just glad I was able to sleep well two nights before the race.

We arrived at the swim start early enough to see the full ironman athletes moving up the channel. They started earlier than we did, and I got the first wave of chills when I saw them pass. We used the van as command central and went to work. The wetsuit slipped on easier than anticipated, I had a quick bite to eat, connected with a few friends and rolled over to join the mass of rubber clad athletes waiting to enter the 68 degree water.

The start of a triathlon is a site to behold. When the gun sounds and hundreds of arms and legs spring to action, the calm water transforms into a frenzied wash cycle. It’s fun to watch but a bit tough when you are in the mix. The PC (physically challenged) athletes were given a head start and became targets for everyone else to catch and pass. I was scared and nervous.

Because my injury is very high up my neck, I can’t swim efficiently on my stomach like most other athletes so I am forced to do the backstroke. It’s not the fastest stroke, but I have worked hard over the years to become consistent and smooth in open water over long distances. Melissa Bell, a friend from Inside-Out Sports in Charlotte, served as my swim partner/navigator and helped keep me stay on course (and safely out of the way of other swimmers). While I swear she had me swimming in circles, we did quite well and completed the 1.2 mile swim and crossed the timing mat in just over 46 minutes. Had I been just a few minutes faster, I would have been the first PC athlete to exit the water. (Isn’t it great to play “what if ______” when the race is over?)

How did I get out of the water? As I approached the dock marking the swim finish, Uncle Ed and Cousin Eddie, my “handlers” for the day, went to work. They grabbed under my arms, hoisted me from the water, helped me into my chair, pushed me over to T1, stripped the wetsuit, plopped me on the handcycle and ensured that everything else was in place for me to begin the 56 mile bike leg. Sarah and Aunt Lorraine snapped photos and screamed my name! (I’m so lucky to have a supportive family!) Before the salt water fully dried, I was on my handcycle rolling alongside dozens of eager athletes. My energy was high and I felt fantastic. (I knew from experience that an athlete’s energy is typically the highest right after the swim to bike transition – or, as I call it, the Chinese fire drill - and was careful not to push myself too hard in the first few miles.)

The bike segment was both incredibly enjoyable and painfully long. I’ll admit the thought of handcycling 56 miles at race pace was one of the fears that kept me awake the night before the race. I was afraid of bonking, scared that I’d be way behind everyone else and concerned that my two little arms would not be strong enough to get the job done.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. I passed through the first 10 miles averaging nearly 15 mph, maintained the pace during the 12 mile segment on a closed interstate and reached the halfway point feeling fueled and strong. As I rolled through mile 30, my family pulled alongside honking their car horns and screaming encouragement out the windows. Chills again.

There was one demanding and testy section of the bike. It seemed to never end. Between mile 30 and 40, when the course turned onto backcountry roads (as evidenced by the number of Confederate flags displayed on single wide trailer homes) the twists, turns and rolling hills took a toll on my arms and shoulders. My stomach tightened and I worked through a few cramps. By that time, the third handcyclist had just passed me, and I knew I was the last athlete on the course. Knowing it would happen at some point, I had tried to mentally prepare but when the realization of being the last cyclist hit me, I’ll admit it took some wind out of my sails. Nevertheless, after turning south for the 16 mile straight shot to the finish, I refocused. Having the cyclists from the full ironman catch me and shout words of encouragement was a big help, too.

The bike to run transition went off without a hitch thanks to careful planning and coordination with my energetic team of handlers and supporters. Moving from the bike to chair, my body reminded me that it wasn’t happy with shifting from the reclined, elongated cycling position to a compact, tucked racing position and I cramped. But the cramps soon passed and I headed onto the run with the fastest T2 transition of all PC athletes.

As enjoyable and scenic as the run portion of the race might have seemed to the runners, it was a wheelchair nightmare. If you know anything about wheelchair racing then you are aware that if a course has a bridge, open grate, concrete surface, orange coned road construction, brutally steep and short hill, sharp turn, railroad track, brick crosswalk, cobblestone, sidewalk, lots of twists and turns or wooden nature bridge then it most likely isn’t a fast course. Well, the run segment of the Beach to Battleship had all of these and more. The organizers set up the course to be fan friendly and enjoyable for the running athletes but for the wheelers, it was 13.1 miles of teeth chattering pounding. I “zig zagged” up two hills, descended two more with my brakes nearly locked for safety and spent more time yelling “on your left” than I care to remember.

To give you an idea of how difficult it really was, I finished the half marathon in 2:02:58. It usually only takes me about 30 - 40 minutes longer to do a full marathon! I did gain some motivation when I passed both a wheeler and an amputee athlete in the first two miles. As they say in ironman, “passes on the run are usually permanent.” I knew at that point that I wouldn’t be last.

I crossed the finish line with tears of joy streaming down my face and love peace in my heart. My goal time was 8 hours 30 minutes. Sarah optimistically predicted 8 hours 10 minutes. I knocked it out in 7:47:29 to finish second!

How’s that for a day at the office?

2009 Beach to Battleship Race Report

The Battle(ship) is won! (Part 1)

B2B Take 1 ---
After nearly two decades of competing in adaptive sports, you’d think there really wouldn’t be much left for me to try. But life has a funny way of directing certain types of people (OK, I’m talking about me) toward new and difficult challenges. In late 2007, as my fortieth birthday appeared on the horizon and I was refocusing my energy on making 2008 a successful, positive and enjoyable year, a full page ad for the inaugural Beach to Battleship Full and Half Ironman Triathlon jumped from the pages of Triathlete magazine and caught my eye.

The race appealed to me for many reasons. It was going to be staged in Wilmington, NC, and I jump at any chance I get to head to Wilmington and Wrightsville Beach. The course seemed friendly to a physically challenged athlete like me. And did I mention I like challenges? Enough said.

Believe it or not, the date of the event had a unique meaning to me, too. If my calculations were correct, and memory served me, I realized that I would be completing the swim segment of the race at just about the same minute that I broke my neck. That thought, in itself, seemed like hook enough to get me to register. I thought exiting the Atlantic Ocean after swimming over a mile would be far better than how I did it (i.e., on a stretcher) 18 years earlier. So I tore out the page, stuck in on the fridge for motivation and began counting the days until registration opened.

I set my sights on completing the half ironman. To put it in perspective, a half ironman (or half iron distance triathlon depending on what you call it) consists of a 1.2 mile swim followed by a 56 mile bike and a 13.1 mile run. The clock starts when you enter the water and it ends when you cross the finish line. There are no breaks, no timeouts and no halftime. If you want to stop for a breather, the clock keeps running. And if you need to take a bathroom break, you guessed it, that time is included, too.

Triathlon is a relatively new sport for the disabled and there really aren’t too many athletes who compete in all three disciplines. Many adaptive athletes compete on relay teams and swim, bike or run but few compete in all three legs. In fact, I know of only about two dozen wheelchair athletes in the world who race this distance (and longer). And to my knowledge, no man or woman with my level or injury – anywhere - had ever completed a half ironman. It sounded like a perfect challenge for a guy like me.

An interesting thing happened before the 2008 race that kept me from achieving my goal. I got sick – really sick – and missed the start. You see, in the months leading up to race day, I knew I had an illness that required antibiotics (plus rest and relaxation) but instead of knocking it out and getting healthy, I chose to put off treatment until after the race. I hardheadedly stuck to a very strict and intense training schedule, balanced a busy work schedule, pushed hard and traveled a lot. I even made the bad decision to fly to Arizona and back (on the redeye nonetheless) the week of the race when I should have been resting and tapering. Long story short, Sarah and I weren’t in Wilmington in 2008 for more than a few hours before I got so sick that the ER rolled out the red carpet. To end this chapter, let’s just say New Hanover Regional Medical Center, a race sponsor, got their money’s worth from this guy, and I wound up watching the athletes race from the wrong side of a window.

I left Wilmington in 2008 with some unfinished business.

Good Luck, Chris!

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Whoever said there were no more frontiers hasn't looked over the horizon lately

Speed...

So I was was rollin' along Jetton Road on my handcycle recently when I spotted a bold little turtle trying to make his way across 4 lanes of traffic. Every time a car passed, he stopped suddenly, retreated a bit into his shell, sat still and waited before carrying on again. Poor little scared guy!

All I could envision as I approached was the sight of a texting driver crushing him without ever knowing what happened.

When I saw this happen again and again, I decided to do something. I alerted a few drivers and motioned for them to slow, stop and block the road. They saw what was happening. When it was safe, I rolled out toward the middle, turned the little guy around and watched his four little legs carry him right back to the safety of the grassy embankment where he began his journey.

With crisis averted, we all shared a smile and a friendly wave before heading off to wherever it was that we were rushing in the first place.

And I don't think any of us were upset with the unexpected delay.

Sometimes it helps to be as slow as a turtle...

Bye.