2009 Mooseman Triathlon - NH

I wake up, roll over and look at the clock – it’s 3:15am. My alarm was set to go off at 3:45 but I always seem to wake up before the alarm. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling and the first thought that comes into my mind is, “This is retarded.”

The second thought I have is, “Lisa Ransom is awake right now.” You see, I’ve been unfairly inflicted with Lisa Ransom’s sleep schedule. A few months ago, I sent out an email asking S2 folks if they would be interested in an EARLY morning yoga class.

EARLY to me is like 6:30-7:00am and most people replied that they preferred the current 7:30pm evening slot. Everyone pretty much except for Lisa Ransom who said something like, ”I would prefer a 5:30am class as I get up around 4:45am.”

4:45am?? Sweet Jesus… I live with a musician so my schedule is a little different than most of yours. I typically go to bed around 1:00am and on gig nights, my sweetie often doesn’t roll in to bed until about 3:00am. We are practically just getting into our bed as Lisa Ransom is getting out of hers. This both equally horrified me and delighted me so it stuck with me.

Now, every time I get up to pee in the middle of the night or at the crack of dawn, I glance at the clock and say to myself, Lisa Ransom will be getting up in an hour and 15 minutes” or when I wake up around 8:30, I think… man, Lisa Ransom has already been up for about 4 hours. Seriously, it’s just not right.

Luckily, I had the common sense to pack all of my stuff up the night before. I had all my yummy snacks ready to go and several clothing options; after the lovely weather at Lake Placid last year, I now pack portable rain ponchos that I’m pretty sure will never biodegrade (ugh) and an “emergency blanket” that looks like tin foil that one could purchase at the .99 cent store or at a NASA yard sale.

This thing supposedly keeps you warm and after I saw Dolly rip hers off as she came stumbling around the corner at the finish line at LP 2008 – I thought to myself – Hey, you never know when a little extra body heat just might save your ass – so I pack one in case somebody ever needs it.

By 4:00am I was in the car and on my way to the Mooseman. First person I saw was Dolly, she looked like a kid on Christmas morning all hopped on sugary breakfast cereal. I ended up parking right next to Molly Zahr who was looking lean and mean and ready to race.

In the lot across from me, I spotted S2, Lisa Ransom and Connor all going through their race day rituals. With the radio blasting Dave Matthews and big smiles on their faces they were in “It’s What We Do” mode. Drinking protein shakes, eating muffins the size of their heads, pouring Heed powder into this, taping GU gels to that and writing S2 Crew in red and blue magic marker all over their bodies.

I just stood back and watched the insanity unfolding all around me. Right now, these guys are in their element…. Connor is downing a Vanilla Ensure like a geriatric patient recovering from a broken hip, S2 is grinning ear to ear even as he’s swatting relentless mosquitoes away from his bald head and Lisa Ransom is pumping air into her tire like a wild Banshee and honestly, they couldn’t look happier.

I crossed paths with most of the Crew before the race. Brian and Scott were off to volunteer and kayak the swim. Bob Bell was gleefully body marking half naked people as they came into the Transition area. Fluffy was already sporting yellow foam Moose antlers and had her trigger finger on the cowbell ready to let loose at a moments notice.

I followed Dolly, LR and Reggie around as they did their last minute race rituals. Sip some coffee here, eat a bagel there – singing to goofy “pump me up” music as they stood in line at the Porta-Potty. The other athletes were eyeballing them but they were so deep in pre-race “crazy mode” they didn’t even notice the stares.

Now, if you are squeamish at all you might not want to read this next paragraph but really, I just have to say something. When it was my turn to use the Porta-Potty, I stepped into it to find the seat down. This is NEVER a good sign. The only time people put the top seat down in the Porta-Potty is when they are trying to cover up or hide whatever is in there. I knew I was in trouble.

I took a piece of TP and used it to tentatively lift the lid. Once that sucker was up I could not believe what was before my eyes. I have to say right here and now that about 4 feet away from me was the BIGGEST- FATTEST turd I have ever seen in my entire life.

I actually had to stand there for a minute and take it in because I was completely stunned. There is just NO WAY a human body could produce something that big!! It seriously looked like a 800 pound Bull Moose had taken a poop in there. Seriously, they should have found and awarded THAT guy some maple syrup just for surviving his morning business.

Finally, everybody zipped into their wetsuits, sucked on their inhalers, donned goggles and neoprene booties and swim caps. It was a mass of colors on the beach; bright pink, neon green, yellow, blue and red heads bobbing along. I’ve actually gotten pretty good at being able to pick S2 people out of the sea of androgynous black wetsuits.

I saw Betty with her awesome Mr. Magoo goggles – I LOVE those things Betty! I saw Molly standing with her teammates and smiling. I saw Reggie preparing herself for the swim (it takes tremendous courage for her to even get in the water so I am super duper proud of Reg), I saw S2 getting that “yeah, I’m just going to "take it easy” look in his eyes and then, I saw Lisa Ransom burning holes into the back of some poor woman’s head as she entered the water.

I thought maybe Lisa was just admiring her cute little pigtails - when I heard her mutter under her breath, “Celeste”. If you were ever a fan of Seinfeld, then you can imagine the tone that Newman uses whenever he sees Jerry. It’s a combination of suspicion and disdain.

Apparently, the pig tailed Celeste was Lisa’s age group nemesis. Lisa was all smiles on the surface but beneath the smile I knew it was ON!!!

The swim started and BOOM – they were off. Honestly, I could go on and on about all the moments that lit up my heart that day. Seeing Reggie come out of the water with that "horrified look” on her face nearly crushed me but to see her gather herself and finish the race with a big ass smile was a thing of beauty.

JR’s chain broke and even though he couldn’t finish the race, he got to give Reggie his timing chip and go home to see his twins graduate from kindergarten. It’s always a delight to see Karma in action. It all works out perfectly in the end.

Dolly said, "I love you guys” as we cheered for her as she headed out on the run. Steve Reed flashed that notorious sly grin of his each time he blasted past us. Mary Susan said, “Thank you” as I yelled out her name as she came out of the water, Amber Cullen was a machine! Holy crap what a little spitfire. Really, the entire crew was such an inspiration to watch.

One of the reasons that I come to these races is to hang out with people I love and to support my friends as they challenge themselves to new heights. People often say, it’s so great that you get up early and come out for the whole day to cheer people on and while this is probably true – I’m sure I get some brownie points in the old karmic bank account – what people don’t realize is that it’s also a selfish endeavor.

When I am at these races – I GET way more than I GIVE. For me, these races are an opportunity to see God do his/her/it’s thing. (If the word God bothers you for whatever reason, insert your own comfy word here). It is a chance for me to witness the Divine in action. These races are an opportunity to see people love, nurture and celebrate one another – regardless of the color of their skin or the color of their uniform. Triathlon like yoga is totally inclusive.

Everybody is invited join to the party and to explore the magic of what is really possible regardless of how much money you make, how much cellulite you have or what you believe in. It moves beyond the physical realm of “material stuff” and allows us to focus on what’s truly on the inside. It prompts us to ask, “What are you really made of?”

From a typical athletic point of view this might conjure up a challenge of physical limitations and abilities. Can you dig deep enough to get over this hill or push to finish this mile or survive getting punched and kicked in the face at the swim start... but for me, as a yogi, it goes even one step further to ask not only WHAT are you but WHO are you?

Often, when I am in traffic or waiting in line, I do this spiritual practice where I try to acknowledge the Divine within everybody that crosses my path. A woman will walk past me and I will think, “She is God”. A dude with a "Gut Deer?” bumper sticker will flick his cigarette butt out of his truck window onto the ground and I will grit my teeth and think, “He is God”. Of course, I also think, “He is an asshole” but after a few deep breaths I remind myself of what the great Sufi Poet Hafiz says, he is just "God in drag.”

At the Mooseman, I saw so many acts of kindness and compassion: from the huge and amazing; like the support guides that helped the blind guy navigate the whole course – when he crossed that finish line - tears poured down and my heart almost broke out of my chest. To the subtle and sweet, like Scott making a special place on the meat grill for my little veggie burger! (Thanks Scott)

Life, even with it’s hardships and flat tires and scary swims and 4:00 minute penalties is still an amazing thing. When you keep your eyes, mind and your heart open, you experience the world in a whole different way. So that even when you see a 6’2", burly, shirtless, hairy chested guy, sporting psychedelic spandex and white compression socks shimmy across the finish line, shaking his ass - while wearing a grass skirt and holding two pink, plastic flamingos, you still somehow think to yourself, “He is God”.