Why I keep Tri-ing

 

~Posted by Andy Blasquez

“But Dada…why do you have to do your Ironman race?” 

This was asked of me by my youngest son, Jeffrey (5), just 3 days prior to my first ever triathlon. I found myself in the uncommon position of not having words to explain why "I had to” do this race.  At that moment, it felt like time stopped.  I had no response at all!  The best answer I could think of was, “When I was young, I watched the first ever Ironman, at your Great Grandpa’s house. Everyone was kinda freaked out by what they were seeing, but I was just sort of sitting quietly...wishing it was me!  I've wanted to do this for my whole life, so now...I’m gonna do it!”

The deeper, more telling answer certainly wasn't on the surface.  It was deeper. It must have been! I wasn't aware, however, of how deep I’d have to dig in order to find the real answer, but I found it.  In short, I don’t have to do an Ironman.  Ironman; the event, the medal, the emotion, all of it, is really the reward.  The truth is, the training, the pushing, the breaking down barriers, the will, the alone time on runs, rides, and in the pool, and the lonely times…have made me, and continue to make me a better man. 

Ink Grade, Napa, CA

Suffering: It forces you into places where your ego just can’t survive.  It strips you down. It forces you to be raw; to be authentic; to be “you.”  That is why I love this sport so much. This personal evolution or pilgrimage allows me to stand taller!  Not because I finished an event. Thousands have!  Not for the medal around my neck. There are more valuable medals!  But because it brings me peace, or rather…it helps me find it.  In my training, and in the Tri lifestyle, I’m finding balance and peace: Two things that had eluded me for most of my life.  And, yea, it’s pretty awesome to receive those medals too!

I was born and raised in California, just east of San Francisco, in 1966.  My Mom and Dad busted their tails for us. Dad worked tirelessly, and Mom raised four kids.  We never wanted for anything.  We weren't the ‘rich kids’, but we had all the toys we needed, great holidays and vacations, family get-togethers, and nice homes with all of the modern conveniences and luxuries. We had it all.  For me, (please known there is no conceit in this) everything was easy in my life: making friends, academics, sports, playing music, and on and on.  In fact, I never read a book until well after I earned my Masters Degree in Education. (Ironic, isn’t it?)  With virtually no effort, I was still in all the ‘gifted’ courses and earning high marks.  Growing up, it would be uncommon for me not to have been the fastest, the strongest, or the ‘brightest’ in the group.  This is absolutely not something to be proud of.  In fact, these were my circumstances in spite of myself and in spite of my lack of effort.  

But with all of these blessing, why did I have such an ugly hole in my “self?”  Whatever the cause, I often felt myself unconsciously seeking attention.  I found it in less than the healthiest ways.  I may have been that “X-Games” kid, long before there were X-Games, I often found myself looking down some ridiculous flight of stairs, or a steep hill, with a mountainbike or a skateboard, thinking to myself, “This could go one of two ways.  I could make it, and everyone would go crazy…again. OR, I could crash and burn, in which case everyone would go crazy…again!  Either way, it was OK with me.”  These destructive activities increased in frequency and intensity until I felt like “Customer of the Month” at our local hospital.  It wasn’t until after a pretty disastrous motorcycle racing accident that I realized that if I didn’t get to grips with whatever was attracting me to these types of activities, I probably wouldn’t be around long enough to enjoy them anymore anyway! 

Ironically, it was in training for motorcycle roadracing (a sport that I’m still fanatical about) that opened the door to a new kind of suffering.  Cycling!  This “means to and end” was actually socially acceptable.  Now I can have my cake and eat it too! I can, for all intents and purposes, punish myself, and not get looked down at for it!  Maybe someday I can even get to Kona and do the Ironman!  That’s got to be the most brutal event on the planet.

  

So I started dabbling in Cross Country Mountainbiking, then Downhill.  I SUCKED!  Well, downhill was easy!  Go as fast as you can!  I’d been doing that my whole life!  I was competitive right off the bat!  (Top speed on a hardtail: 59.5 MPH, Mt. Hamilton, San Jose, CA.) Cross Country, on the other hand, was really, really hard.  I tried for years, and was just never, ever any good! Wait. That’s a feeling I’m not used to!  I’m really struggling to get good.  No, I’m really struggling to not be completely laughable at this!  And so began my love/hate relationship with endurance sports. 

To make a long story even longer, I registered (albeit idiotically) for the Scott Tinley Adventure Race, to be held in California in October of 2001.  Looking back, I now know I’d never have finished. But, like always, failing would have been epic in itself.   So how did it go?  I couldn't tell you.  I didn't quite make the starting line. Instead, I ended my motorcycle roadracing “career” just two months before the race. In a flash, I was done.  I felt, quite literally, that God was asking me, almost rhetorically, “This was what you wanted, isn't it?  A challenge? Now let’s see you get to Kona, tough guy!  Are you going to grow up? Are you going to show me what you’re made of?” 

So how did I stand up to the accident? Simply put…I didn't break my feet.  In detail though, I did break two metatarsals (fingers) and all of the metacarpals (hand bones) on my left hand, my left radius and ulna (wrist), spiral fracture of my left femur, collapsed cervical vertebrae C5 & C7, and thoracic vertebrae T5 & T7, displaced fracture of right clavicle with a type 3 shoulder separation, 5 rib fractures (2 displaced) and a closed head injury. The truth is that it couldn't have happened at a more important time.  It was well beyond time to grow up, and this was gonna do it.

Fast forward a couple of years.  I’m running again, cycling and swimming too!  My shoulder wouldn’t handle the work load, so we had it fixed.  Restabilization, SLAP repair, rotator cuff, etc.  Good as new.  A couple of years later, still trying to become even a shadow of myself, I ran myself into the ground necessitating Achilles replacement.  Two steps forward and one step back.  But this time, with wisdom and continued growth.  This time it’s with the support of my bride, and the drills and coaching I receive from my MaccaX team mates.  At this point, in my 40s, I not only have a purpose, but a duty to model living rightly. I have the two most precious boys on earth.  

What's my ultimate goal?  To be well.  What would be the icing on the cake?  A Kona slot!  So I will keep Tri-ing! Game on.