I've been caught up in my head and my heart. It's all good, but sometimes even during times of big, bursting joy, I get verklempt to the point of losing my words. Usually this happens during times of one pinch me moment after another. It can be too much to process. So I don't. I sit with it and let the words come to me when I'm ready.
This past weekend was one of those filled with so many stories, connections, moments to remember for those times I need to tap into my faith and love for all humans tank. That tank was filled to overflowing this weekend.
The nexus of celebration was Ted's amazing Ironman race. When I heard the MC say, Ted Wegehaupt...You Are an IRONMAN, my knees went weak. I cannot fathom how he felt. He is, after all, the one who accomplished 140.4 miles in 13 hours. But here is the little secret about supporting someone's challenge and witnessing such an achievement...just a little bit of it is also your triumph.
Ted's cheering section was loud and proud and large. So many people were a part of the journey that ended when #871 crossed the finish line. Or maybe the journey is only just beginning. Most likely it's begun anew. I'm not sure that any one of us really expected that he would swim 2.4 miles, bike 114 miles and run 26.2 miles when he declared he was signing up for the race a year earlier. Ted's an amazing athlete, but he is also a big dreamer and schemer. He was not a strong swimmer, and had never completed a century or a marathon. Edited to add that he'd never finished more than a 5K, but he trained. He trained hard and the more money he invested in his race, the more I realized that he truly meant to earn the title. And once I knew that he would start, I knew he would finish.
One of the first things he did when he finished was thank everyone for their support. I thought I couldn't be any prouder of him for just crossing the line, but that he realized he hadn't done it alone just about blew me away. Everyone gathered had a role in getting him to this point. His roommate, Thomas, swam many laps with him at the Nich and worked on his turns and strokes and breathing. Lily took over this summer and coached him in the open water. She swam with him sans wet suit in Lake Michigan even when the water was cold to keep him on track and pace. Nathan ran with him and Timmy biked with him. Cousin Tim helped him trick out his bike and as a triathlete himself, he shared valuable tips. Meryl shared her boyfriend with the water and road. Training is not for sissies and it seriously cuts into free time, but she encouraged him to the very end. Uncle Brad and Aunt Ashley went out on the course with him for a couple miles when he was hurting mid-marathon. They are two of his biggest cheerleaders every.single.day. Mike was his bike mechanic and I was his nutritionist. All of us and many others, listened to endless IM talk for the better part of the year and all of the summer. So yeah, when he finished, every one of us felt connected to the experience.
Meryl gathered video clips from the day and put together a montage that I challenge anyone to watch and not feel something deep. I mean I cried for complete strangers many times that day and we cheered until we were hoarse and our wrists hurt from ringing cow bells. You cannot witness these competitors of every age and size from all over the world and not want to know their stories. Everyone has a story. What brought them here? Why are they doing this? Is it their first one? Will it be their last? How does it feel to have so many strangers lining the streets cheering for you? You got this 20! Looking strong Mom! You go girl! You are amazing! Just keep moving forward! You are fit, you are strong, you can do this all day long!
Ted, the consummate ham, loved all of the interaction with the spectators, and they (we) love a smile or a nod or a gesture, the bigger the better. My brother made it his business to high five every biker that passed by us on the way up Mid Town Road, one of the longest, most grueling hills on the course, and he even made the paper doing so. There's a reason Highway to Hell was on repeat.
Ted smoked the swim and he crushed the bike. He said he could have biked all day. The run was a little tough, but he started out too fast, the day got hot and he didn't leave enough gas in the tank. It was group effort to refuel his tank. While he never entertained throwing in the towel, there were more than a a few miles (7-14) we thought he might just walk until the end, but he worked through it (thanks chicken broth, family and friends) and he finished strong. That is actually my favorite thing about his race: the strength of spirit and mental fortitude it takes to hang in there and stick with it. That's the stuff that builds character. I feel like I was watching him grow right before my eyes.
That being said, there were so many bright spots from the day: Lily and Meryl running alongside Teddy up the hill and then doing a high five of their own, my dad and step mom showing up in their Wisconsin Grandpa and Wisconsin Grandma sweatshirts bursting with pride, Thomas and Meryl getting up at the crack ass of dawn to get him fueled and to the race start, the tearful, happy hug I shared with Meryl after his finish, Lily and Brad feeling inspired to do the half IM next year, all of the amazing race volunteers, the course that snaked around the campus we all love, the beautiful day, the camaraderie, and I could go on and on.
I can still feel the tension in the air as we waited for the swim to start. Close to 1500 people worked hard to get to this point and here they were...we were. That energy hung in the air all day and night. Ted finished #345 at 8 o'clock with a smile on his face as soon as he crossed the line. We didn't go out to celebrate, but I never really thought that would happen. Another time most definitely. Instead Meryl and Thomas took him home and we brought over pizza at the IM's request. After a shower, he felt human. He didn't make his early morning class, but he was in front of the class to teach in the afternoon. He still says he feels great. I want to bottle those endorphins and be 22 again.
Not really. I'm grateful to be.here.now and just beyond happy to have been a part of what I think is a watershed event in my son's life.
Video and pictures to come.
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