She is the outward threat of my everlasting shame. I will finish this thing. I cannot let the team down, any further than I already have. Under any circumstances. Gotta pass the chip to Jay. I can die later. In private.
Hey, I’m at the turn! Is it Thursday? I cut it as close as is possible, actually hitting the buoy as I pass. One third of the way! My strength kicks in, the current seems to be going this way, life is good. I have passed Point of No Return now.
Wham! The thigh, again. I stretch it, and the calf goes. Shit shit shit. Opposing cramps, same leg. There is no middle ground now. I stretch one, the other one gains force. Not cool. With Charlene of the Green Kayak approaching, I know what a wounded water buffalo feels.
I go; I just have to swim through this. I get a little further, and the right thigh goes. I look up, and consider how nice it will be to die in my own back yard. There is no way I am riding out on a kayak, to DQ the team.
NO. FUCKING. WAY.
I backstroke for about fifteen feet; the first leg starts to loosen, just to tease me. Lone wolf Charlene approaches, I roll over, throw way too much energy into my retreat, the left leg duo-cramps hit, followed by the right thigh, and now my right calf steps up. This cannot be happening. It shouldn’t even be possible. I concede. The black cloud of shame approaches in the guise of a sixteen year old girl, and I grab onto the kayak. The nadir of my athletic life. I rest. She offers me the humiliation of a lifetime; a ride in. I grimace. I knead my traitor legs. Tell her no way, but thanks, evil temptress. Three of the cramps finally release. Thank Poseidon, I will not die here. Not yet. I regroup, start breast stroking, and it seems to have passed. I flee Charlene, and go.
The cramps start to become something to observe, from outside my body. With the frog kick, the cramps are not so bad. They alternate with every kick of the legs. Opposing forces. I consider naming them. I actually have a favorite, and a redheaded step child. The left thigh cramp is an old friend. It helps me move forward. I start catching people. I pass another kayak, with someone else hanging on for dear, dear life. I’m pretty sure I have reached Nirvana, because I am beyond caring about death. I look behind me, and it is only hyena feed behind me.
And the Hoyts.
And Charlene of the dead, of course.
The last turn comes up, and I swing wide. Cutting corners is for pussies. It’s all downhill from here. The current is pushing me wide, but I can do this. I can see the arch of the finish line, and it looks no more than five miles away. No problem, my cramps Joey and Harpo will push me there. I can spot my Dad from about five hundred yards out. I can tell they haven’t spotted me. At about two hundred yards, I pass walkers coming in. I keep swimming. At about one hundred, I start butterflying. Three strokes, just enough to make my point. I finally stand for a second, and peel off my hateful bathing cap (never could tolerate them, probably the cause of my troubles today), and dive in again, porpoising in to the end. I see K, and Jay, and everyone else.
Not all of them see me. I step up onto dry land, and the cramps make their final, spiteful visit. The run (HA!) to transition area is about one hundred yards, on soft sand and wet grass. I hobble and jog as far as there, and try to take off the chip around my ankle. Pride overrides common sense until K says he can and will remove it. So I let him. I mutter something like go Keith go, but I am done. I collapse backwards, curled up like a fat langostino, insensate in pain, with a huge SEG on my face. Done. Alive. Happy. Can't wait 'till next year.
Hey, let's go watch K on the bike!!!
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