Glen Rock Tri Club

First I salute this soil of the blessed, river and rock! ...Gully and gap I clambered and cleared till, sudden, a bar jutted, a stoppage of stone against me...
- Robert Browning (Pheidippides)

This weekend, I was driving from my daughter's Sag Harbor New York home to a place Long Islanders call "The End". Unable to sleep, I arrived in Montauk a few hours early for the second triathlon that I would participate in during these past three weeks. While driving along the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic surf illuminated by a half-moon and a brightly lit Orion, I opened my window to breathe in the clean air and confirmed the weather forecast of temperatures in the high 30s with sustained winds blowing at 30 miles per hour.

I then thought of the task before me, and of a similar challenge faced by a Greek soldier who, 2,500 years earlier (490 BC), ran all the way from the Battle of Marathon to his king to announce victory over his enemy. The runner then died from his exhausting effort, or so the legend goes.

Historians debate the claim of Marathon, but the story endures. Some critics claim that Mount Peteli would have made such a run improbable, but this weekend I met my own Mount Peteli in the form of a hidden boulder twice the size of a bowling ball.

The sky had brightened, but the sun had not yet risen when this past weekend's triathlon began. The water temperature was in the low fifties, but it was a welcome relief to the air temperature which chilled myself and 400 other competitors to the bone during the 90 minutes before the race was to begin. During that time frame, 500 people had their race numbers applied to their arms and legs with black magic marker.

Shortly before 7 AM, the horn blew, indicating the start of our wave, and we churned the water and made it seem aboil to spectators wearing winter coats and mittens on the shore.

We in the water quickly learned that the half-mile swim would be no easy task. I only had September's Olympic distance triathlon to compare this swim to. Because of foaming white capped waves and a mouthful of water with each stroke, yesterday's half-mile swim was considerably more difficult than the one-mile swim during my first-ever triathlon three weeks earlier.

Some time later, I felt victorious and was waste-deep in the water just 20 yards from the beach where I would emerge and run upon cold wet grass to transition to my bike. That is when my own Mount Peteli made smashing contact with the big toe on my left foot. I immediately went down. The wind had churned the sand into a murky soup, and the rock could not be seen.

When I got to the beach, I saw the looks on the faces of race officials who asked whether or not I wanted medical attention. I later learned that one woman (Carolyn) had met that same rock and needed seven stitches to close her wound.

After stripping off my wetsuit, I saw some degree of the injury. There was quite a bit of blood and my toenail was split down the middle, about halfway down from top to bottom. The foot throbbed, but I was able to force it into a bike shoe which felt a bit squishy.

I ran with my bicycle across the road following other competitors and then clumsily mounted the bike and began to pedal. There was absolutely no pain. What discomfort I did have was now due to ocean winds now gusting to 30 MPH, but I took pride in passing many riders during the 12-mile portion of the race. I made it back to the transition area and racked my bicycle, put on my race number, sunglasses, hat, carefully peeled off my biking shoes, then began to put the sneaker on my left foot. It was then that I knew I was in trouble.

I began to run and instantly learned that exactly half of the race would be very painful for me. Which half? The half in which I would land on my left foot during the three mile run.

About 100 yards into the race, there were a group of race officials. I sat down and removed my shoe to have them assess my injury. They all agreed that it would be ok to quit. There is something about that word that triggers an instant response.

I put my shoe back on and got up to run quite a bit slower than my usual pace. About a mile into the race, a very kind police officer stopped his car next to me and offered a ride back. I thanked him and continued to run and finished the race before a handful of fellow competitors.

I learned a very valuable lesson this weekend. Next year, I will stay to the left when emerging from the swim portion of the 2011 Montauk half-ironman triathlon.

I am back in New Jersey writing this at 4:25 AM. I plan a short gym workout in 25 minutes...The toe no longer throbs and should heal in a few weeks after the toenail grows back.