Last weekend was supposed to be it. I was supposed to have competed in my first triathlon – the Salem 70.3 – 1/2 Ironman. Instead, I ended up “near” the finish line as a volunteer. Want more detail? Then, feel free to read on.

I had made the decision last Fall to go for it and signed up at the prompting of Chris Hatfield … for whom there is no relationship to my role with boundary disputes.

Instead, I know Chris through Seattle Green Lake Running Group. He is a regular for the group’s Wake Up Wednesday (“WUW’) which I inconsistently had returned to in early 2024 after having taken a 4 or 5 year inexcusable Covid hiatus.

A number of years ago Chris had created a spin-off of the club for Triathletes.

Now, as someone who has loved bicycles since my first ride at age 6, I thought that it would be cool to get into this kind of action. So, over the course of several weeks both in an effort to cull information and to slow Chris down to a more manageable running pace, I asked him a lot about triathlons.

I think it was over a post run coffee, I asked Chris what I should look at to sign up.

He mentioned another triathlon here in Seattle that he thought would be good for me, but said the only problem is that the same weekend he would be doing the Salem 70.3.

I said out loud something along the lines of … “Well, why don’t I do that one then.”

Kind of creating one of those simultaneous down chin, raised eyebrow, head cocked to the side type of glances … Chris asked something along the lines of:

Are you sure you want do that? A 70.3 is a 1.2 mile swim, followed by a 56 bike ride, finished with a (13.1 mile) half marathon takes a lot of training!

I recognized that. But, I also knew that a lot can happen in the 9 – 10 months between now and the event. I mean in 2019 which was the year I turned 50, I saw that they were running 50th Seattle Marathon and decided to run it and completed, so how hard could this be … IF I CONSISTENTLY TRAINED?

So, I started off. The first thing that I did was to move from Lake Union’s Flow Fitness which has a great, raked stationary bike room – the group classes of which I had been going to twice a week – to the Olympic Athletic Club.

The folks at Flow Fitness are great, but I needed to get to a place that has a swimming pool and hence the change of gym membership.

As an aside, I did not reconsider going back to LA Fitness. The Olympic Athletic Club has a swim lane reservation system for 2 pools that allows one to get one’s swimming done.

The former has a single pool without reservations. The Ballard LA Fitness does have a spectacular view of Queen Anne, Magnolia, and the Ballard Bridge as a consolation. But again, I wasn’t looking for consolation, I was looking to train for my first 1/2 Ironman!

Swimming at the OAC went really well. Chris has a group of his friends who he gets to compete in 4 categories for aggregate numbers over the course of the month: swimming, biking, running, and overall steps.

Well, in November I won the overall number of yards swam at an aggregate somewhere around 34,000 and I repeated with a win – albeit to a lesser aggregate numerical extent – in January too.

December, I went with my father who was convalescing from a surgery and so my activity went way down and by February and March I had converted a lot of my swimming effort over to riding a bicycle on a trainer, both of which Chris had given me.

I loved it! Especially in February – the month of the “Miracle on Ice” (which for those who are not aware is the 1980 US Olympic Men’s Hockey victory over the USSR in the Semi Finals and ultimate victory over Sweden for the Gold). As I rode the trainer, I would repeatedly watch Kurt Russel playing coach Herb Brooks in the movie which reenacted those events – “Miracle.”

So, things were going along fine. But, it was starting to get past time for me to get off the trainer and to get outside on a bike. And I was eager to because I hadn’t gone out with the original Renovo Wooden Bike (which has finger joints in its frame and Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid, Catherine Ross/Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head-style handle bars) that I had purchased after showing the new and improved Renovo Bike last September at the Western Design Conference in Jackson Hole.

Well, I got my chance!

There was about a week long string of pre-summer days in the early Spring. I took advantage of them to get some miles clocked in Chris’ “Hattie’s Bike Challenge.” After all, notwithstanding the movie “Miracle,” it’s not that much fun to do the old stationary bicycle, bicycle, bicycle … and get no milage credit because I am just sitting in place and have been too cheap/poor to go out and purchase a new Garmin watch to pick up the information from the upgraded trainer that Chris had given me.

I went out on my first few bike rides and it was bliss! I’d leave our place in Magnolia, go out on the Burke Gilman Trail, turn off South for a bit at the UW Stadium, and then pick up the 520 Bridge Eastbound until across, go down through Medina and over to Bellevue and come back across over Mercer Island.

Except they were working on the bike route at Mercer Island. Hmm? No bother, I’ll just swing around Mercer Island and pick up I-5 on the other side to head on in to Seattle. I think I did this twice.

The third time, partly because at the North end of Mercer Island is a park named after a contemporary of Edison and Ford that Napoleon Hill mentions somewhat often – botanist Luther Burbank – I stayed to the top and worked around the hazards.

Interestingly, I also recall one of the times two or three police cars came up and went out partially on the path. Requesting to know if I could still use it, the Mercer Island police people – as one of them was a blonde haired, blue eyed bombshell who could just as easily been on the cover of Playboy – didn’t bat a lash as to my use notwithstanding the fact that their lights were rolling. So, I went and I noticed that there was a black man with a sleeping bag/roll that he had draped over his shoulders as if some sort of oversized preacher’s stole who had just about walked the bridge from Seattle’s Rainer Valley.

Hmm? My Seattle neighborhood of Magnolia doesn’t have a bum population that I am aware of, but they are across the ship canal in Ballard. Could it be that this type of policing effort occurs here too in an effort to keep intact our little “Mayberry?” That’s something that I really don’t want to think too much more about … so I’ll bring the conversation back.

On the fourth day of great riding weather, April 15 – Tax Day – to be exact, I was debating whether to go with my wife to pick up one of her sisters who was flying in from China or to go out yet again and enjoy the beautiful sun and of course be serious about my training.

I went to her work at South Lake Union and made the decision to ride the bike and decided to reverse my course by going over Capital and First Hills and then across I-5 before the Mercer Island, Bellevue, Medina, and 520 floating bridge loop back. But such was not to be the case!

I got up to Broadway and while seeking to cross put my front tire in a the trolly track. Down I went to the left. I caught myself with my left had … or so I thought. But, it didn’t feel good.

Fortunately, there were no cars … or worse yet trollies for me to contend with so I pulled my bike to the sidewalk and took a bit of a look at my arm. Hmm? Now I had witnessed a compound fracture occur while wrestling in 9th grade where a teammate’s deep, dark red marrow dropped to the white grappler’s map. Fortunately, that wasn’t my situation. But, my wrist looked a little weird nevertheless.

Ok, so I am only a few blocks from Swedish Hospital. So, I should just go on over right? Yeah! Except, I didn’t have a lock for my bike and my legal intuition makes me realize that very likely once I go into the hospital, for liability reasons I may not be released until properly treated.

Realizing further that space is limited in hospitals, I would likely have to leave my bike outside … on Capital Hill. NO WAY! My car had been broken in and the steering column broken away twice as a presumed gang initiation ritual when I had first come to Seattle in 1992? So, I wasn’t going to take that chance!

Instead, I walked my bike down the hill to my alma mater – Seattle University School of Law. I go to the president’s office and am in luck. His Chief of Staff – David Lance – finds me a bit oddly walking my bike through the School’s hallowed halls and after a moment figuring out what’s up, offers for me to place my bike in an adjoining office which his colleague has vacated for the week on a personal holiday. Great!

Before I go, David offers to have campus security take me up to the hospital. I initially decline, but then think the better of it. So, within a few minutes I meet them out front. We clarify that the “event” did not occur on campus; they take an extra moment to confirm that Swedish is an “in network” provider of my health insurance carrier; and off we go and within a few minutes I’m at the non-emergency, emergency entrance checking in.

Now, I could probably go on a bit about the zoo which is the Swedish emergency section of the hospital, but I have a whole piece I want to do separately about the folks they ultimately referred me to at Seattle Hand. So good reader, we’ll place this on pause and return to the main story line which is …

Bottom line, because of what was a left wrist fracture, competition in the Oregon 70.3 this year was out. Drats!

But, I had already paid for my room at the AirBnB that Chris had organized and I had decided that unlike before where I allowed COVID to serve as a dissuader of my exercise routine, I was not going to allow this wrist injury to dissuade me from pursuing the triathlon. So, I decided to follow through and go back down to Salem.

Wait what? “Go back down to Salem”?

Yes, see my wife, kids, and I had all been down there back in for the August 21st, 2017 total eclipse. We had done that really spontaneously!

Fairly briefly, we got to Salem two days before this event and amazingly my wife was able to find a hotel room that for the night would take the four of us and our little Yorkie – Tobby.

The next night we were on our own, but fortunately my son had the presence of mind to throw in a tent and sleeping bags and the city opened up Bush’s Pasture Park to the public for the overnight prior to the eclipse.

And was it worth it?!

Oh my goodness, yes! Totality is in my opinion a “God codifier.” It was spectacular!!!

Now returning to last weekend, because my wife had what was going to be our last full family summer party on Friday, I sacrificed one of my AirBnB days and arranged to go by Amtrak on Saturday.

As it turned out, this meant that notwithstanding taking the 8:55 train to Portland, I had to wait until 5:00 that evening to take and Amtrak bus from Portland to Salem.

I was able to use the time in Portland to have lunch at a close by open air food market where the entertainment is a Drag King …

I also take the opportunity to check out a Cal Skate Skateboarding …

And before it’s time to get back to my travels, I even go across the river and down to the OMSI – Oregon Museum of Science and Industries.

Finally, I catch the bus; get down to Salem; and as I am on my bike; I set off for the AirBnB and that’s when I realize where I am … at the entrance of Bush’s Pasture. Wow! My son had just turned 21 last weekend. How could it be that we were now almost 8 years since the eclipse!

I remember back to that time and how I had wanted to make sure that we all got together for the next “great American eclipse” … which had now already occurred over a year ago on April 8, 2024. Where had all that time gone? Now, both kids are adults.

I take some pause and pictures as I go through Bush’s Pasture to think of what was; what should have been; and most importantly … what must happen in the future to purposefully change a course in which I had been insufficiently active in the lives of my children. It’s disheartening. I feel the empty ghost of the happiness that we could have had much more of if I had acted on better choices in the interim.

Riding on, I finally figure out where the AirBnB is. Because the competitors have to get up at 4:00, I sneak into the house. But I do have the good fortune of meeting Santiago who though not competing is also there for the weekend. He’s volunteering and offers for me to be his “volunteer’s volunteer.”

Maybe because of seeing Bush’s Pasture Park and all the associations that go with it, I don’t sleep as well. So, I am up and see competitors Chris, Deb, and Jonathan off in the morning before going back to relax ahead of going out with Santiago to the volunteer spot at 6:30.

Santiago has a huge frame tent that we roll from his car to the aid station where we will be over the course of the day in Minto Brown Park. There is a lot to do!

Because of the nature of the Salem 70.3 running course as a sort of pretzel, our aid station serves runners almost a mile into the run; another 6 or 7 miles later; and then finally just shy of a mile before the finish line.

Water, Ice, Coca-Cola, “nutrition” – both natural and artificial – are set up along the path’s edges for all three leg’s of this station. I also help to get all of the monster tents off the path which resultantly often means that a half of each of them are in the brambles. I also notice that the locationing of trash cans is not well organized, so seek start getting that figured out.

Result? I was nominated as the “trash man.”

That didn’t bother me. I’m used to sliding into unfilled roles – often thankless – roles. I just do what seems to need to be done.

As a result of this attitude though, after the leader’s come through for the second time, I realize that in the not too distant future we will be seeing them for the last time … and the water station for that leg still was unset-up and unattended. Good!

I slide into action, setting out and pouring cups of water and get to offer the leaders aguanation as they power though on their last of over 70 miles that day.

As time passes, the trickle becomes a bit more steady though generally still one at a time. And then the volume starts to balloon from there. More help comes over and I end up being able to hold out and directly offer cups of water for people to grab mid-stride. It’s fun!

This goes on for a long time!

After quite a bit of this, the first portion of the aid station is shut down. Because of cut-offs, it’s a certainty that nobody will yet be coming through. Santiago had been working that station originally, he’s now over cheering the folks who are on their last leg and he makes a suggestion … ‘Why don’t you go in and see what it’s all about at the finish line?’

I take him up on this offer and run back with my garish pink volunteer shirt passing a few of the competitors with my fresh legs. Fortunately, as I get up to the shute leading to the red-carpeted finish line, there is a point where I can exit.

I make my way to the finish and watch for several minutes to witness several 10s and maybe even a couple of 100s of people have their names called out as Salem 70.3 Ironmen. That’s got to be pretty awesome!

I get a bit more of a sense of the immensity of the event when I make my way over to the transition station – “T2” – where all of the bikes had been stored.

Still, I am not seeing anyone of the Seattle competitors. I figure that’s about right … if I had just finished an event like this, I would probably eaten whatever they supplied at the end of the race and made my way to a place where I could sleep.

A few minutes before the start of the victory celebration after the official close of the race, I get a call from Santiago. He’s broken down the tent and is ready to drag it back to his car. So, I run back the mile back to the transition station, say goodbye to the other volunteers, and we share turns dragging it back along the path to the car.

As we are doing so, we see a few stragglers and initially off in the distance the “sweeper” – a cart to assure that all competitors get back. It’s going slow and now competitors are on it – much better to cross the finish line on one’s own recognizance even if the official time records a DNF – “Did Not Finish” – than to surrender.

Santiago indicates they will likely still receive a medal demonstrative of the effort.

We get back to the place, go out to dinner with the competitors for a pizza celebration, and later all have a drink in Chris’ room. Santiago is going to be off early the next morning, Jonathan and his wife, and Chris & Deb decide that they will probably leave a little later in the morning because there is no rush just to get into Portland morning rush hour traffic … and it would seem to me that relaxing after a long race is appropriate too.

Chris, Jonathan, and I venture the hot tub after our soiree at Chris’ room. They indicate that if I am going to successfully follow through on the Tri-Cities 70.3 in only 2 months, I REALLY need to get my training ramped up … probably a minimum of 7 work-outs a week!

Breaking it down further, it would be best to get in about 3 bike rides, at least 2 runs, at least one swim, especially because I don’t have any open water experience, and at least a couple of days of strength training each week.

In fact, they add that I really should be at minimum adding 2 core workouts each week. And it certainly wouldn’t hurt if I added an additional workout for all three of the race’s events … while assuring that I get proper recovery nonetheless.

YES! I have quite a bit of work ahead.

They acknowledge that each of those runners, even the one’s that looked incredibly exhausted at the end of the race, had been training 6 months for it.

The task ahead is indeed immense! We close things up and say our goodnights.

I sleep a little bit better, but still wake up early. My return ticket is at 5:00 PM which would have me arriving in Seattle at 10 minutes before 11:00. I look at the train schedule and realize that there is a direct at 8:55 AM that if I am lucky enough to get on will get me in somewhere around 2:00.

I decide to go for it. Pack it all up and sneak out of the house at 7:30. Down at the train station in a half hour, without going back through Bush’s Pasture Park, a few minutes before 8:00, I go to the ticket office and explain my situation.

The clerk checks my ticket, the bike, and the schedule and indicates I can get on the 8:55 with the bike for an additional $38 – the difference between tickets. It’s the last one. Smiling and telling him that I was on the last ticket north from Lacey/Olympia on the same Monday train a week ago, I add: “Yes, I take it!”

With plenty of time, I decide to go for coffee. Interesting spot. The coffee shop is in what was previously a funeral parlor – IKE Box.

At the door, a gal helps me hold the door as I push my Renovo Bike through. As recompense, I offer to buy her coffee. She says that she works there. “Oh, then you can buy my coffee,” I say jokingly. To my surprise, she says: “No problem!”

I don’t know what to order, but ask if she has anything akin to a (spicy) Mexican coffee. She comes up with the idea of a milk chocolate, hazelnut, something else and then yet beyond idea … which is incredible!

I enjoy it a lot. I also enjoy the art on the wall. I take this picture to showcase a Renovo in front of it.

And I notice some skateboarding images too. Hmm? $100. I wander/wonder as to whether I would be able to arbitrage these at the Portland skate shop. Just a joke. I’m focused on getting back to Seattle.

I go past many of the Capital buildings on my way back to the train station. I try to see if I am able to find the place where my brother and I had stopped on a weekend adventure that we had taken together after the 2017 eclipse while Jenny and the kids had been back in China, but can’t find it. I settle for putting up this picture here as remembrance which appears on my feeds on occasion.

Soon, I am back at the train station. After some additional waiting, I go out to the platform with all the others. There are 2 of us who load up bikes and soon we are northbound. It’s a long day of travel with delays, but I do get to Seattle mid-afternoon. This allows me to bike back home during the day with sufficient time for dinner.

As my son is not there and my wife has a client who had made an extra large catch, we have crab for dinner. Between having crab on the table or my son at the table though, it’s no contest. He’ll be back at college the first weekend of August and again I realize how short the time is that we have left this summer.

I realize while it may be a mere 2 months before the Tri-Cities 70.3, it’s a mere 2 weeks before he’s on to his penultimate year of college. I don’t know where the time goes? I do know that $38 was a cheap purchase of half of the last third of a day. If I hadn’t made the earlier train, both my training and production the next day would also have been eclipsed.

Cheers! BZ/JUSTICE SMILES, pllc