I am Ironman

Yesterday instead of lesson planning or doing Master's homework or grading tests, my roommate coaxed me into volunteering at the Ironman Competition. I griped and grimaced a good deal at first as I was virtually kidnapped for this "service" excursion. I believe my other unwilling roommate and I determined that assisting wealthy white men (the reality of the majority population that participates in Ironman) in achieving their leisure time hobbies by passing out Power Bars and orange slices was probably as far from our conception of service as you could get. But I suppose it wasn't so bad.

After missing our turn into the parking section, we ended up stuck on the highway lane NEXT to the Ironman competition for 1.5 hours, so we were able to watch the entire biking leg of the race. They bike 112 miles after swimming 2.4 miles and then finish with a marathon. 112 miles. I don't think I could bike around the block without being a little out of breath.

When we finally made it to our station at the turn-around point of the bike leg, we were greeted with free t-shirts and leis (our station theme was Kona Beach), and armfuls of Power Gels and strict instructions about how to hand Gatorade bottles to racers (top or bottom out, never the middle or you WILL cause a crash). We did an excellent job with taking the plastic seals off the water bottles and making an efficient ice fetching system. Just as I was starting to feel utterly trivial and vaguely annoyed, I looked up and really noticed the racers. Yes, they were mostly white men and a few women who probably were rather wealthy in order to afford the expensive, light-weight titanium bike and aerodynamically designed helmet. But I witnessed a glimpse of that triumph of the human spirit that my roommate had so heavily advertised as motivation for going.

And, because everything I come across in life right now draws me back to teaching, I thought of myself in this job and my kids working in my school. Teaching is hard. Especially at my school. This is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life up to this point. It is exhausting and thankless and I feel as if I am just plain failing at it most days. But it's like this triathlon with an even greater reward at the end (no offense Ironman winners). Because my race isn't just for me, I'm carrying my kids along with me. And I am pushing and pulling and dragging all of them across the finish line with me no matter what.

I know the marathon metaphor is cliche, but watching the faces of those men and women enduring such pain really gave me a surge of inspiration.

Plus (the more probable source for optimism), only one and a half more days until Thanksgiving!!!!!!!