Every so often Galveston plays host to a
big triathalon event. Sometimes it is a
whole one, a grueling affair of swimming a few miles, bicycling a lot of miles,
and running a marathon. This past
weekend was “just” a half-triathalon.
Only a mile and a half in the water, 56 miles or so on the bike, and
just over thirteen miles running around Moody Gardens. How can anyone do such a feat of
endurance? That part I get. After all, I used to be a runner back in my
younger years. A boatload of training
and the determination of a hungry kid reaching for an unattended cookie
jar. It’s the “why” that has begun to
elude me as I have gotten older. Oh, I
can say the words. “Because it’s there.”
(So is Mount Everest. Hey, so is the
bathroom when I wake up in the morning).
“To show that I am the best I can be.” (So join the Marines). “To test my own limits (That distance gets
shorter and shorter every year). To beat
my personal best time.”(That’s code for, “I know I can’t win this race, but I
want to do it anyway and this gives me an excuse that sounds really noble.” Actually I’m just kidding on this one. It’s probably the best reason for doing
something crazy like this.). “To get the
free T-shirt” (Now you are approaching my reasons for running all those years
ago).
The bicycle portion of the race runs right
past Seaside, and over the years we have seen our share of racing. Not all of it has been good, though. Chris and I saw a bike in the ditch with an
ambulance parked nearby on our way home from church. Once we watched in horror as a bicycler ran
head first into one of the roadsigns.
Knocked him off his bicycle and damaged the bike so much he was unable
to continue. Of course he wasn’t medically
cleared to continue anyway. We have seen
some “over-zealous” police officers refuse to allow people to turn into the
church parking lot, although that has changed as our relationship with the
Jamaica Beach public servants has grown more and more positive. This year the fire chief parked his vehicle
on the edge of our lot to do his part in directing traffic, and we had one of
our Seaside reserve officers out there as well.
We even have a Seasider who competes when she can. Yes, I said “she.” Dale is a woman who is shorter than me, and
quite pretty, actually. But she is in
such good physical shape that I would never want to get on her bad side. She encouraged the church the other day to
stand outside and encourage the bikers as they passed the church. Now that will be a great idea for a ministry
project next time there is a race.
The only roads between our house and the church
double as the bicycle track for the morning, so Chris and I have gauged our
timing to know when we have to reach the end of the seawall to be in the best position
to beat the fastest of the swimmers. This
year’s entries must have been some elite ones, though. We were right on our time (well, actually we
were one minute behind time), but at the end of the seawall cars were at a dead
stop. A veritable horde of bicyclers was
turning the corner. That has never
happened before. What a difference one
minute makes. It took twenty minutes to
work our way to the front of the line of cars.
Didn’t bode well for folks waiting until the last minute.
As it turned out, we had a pretty solid
attendance Sunday. Enough folks braved
the bikes to come together for worship. Now
we need to get started on that “encourage the bikers” idea. Hmm.
How about holding up goofy signs?
Here’s a start: “Gulf of Mexico: One Block South” “It’s not Tuesday yet” “Honk if you feel like you’re going in
circles.”
Colossians
3:23-24 says, “Whatever you do,
work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you
know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the
Lord Christ you are serving.”
Father, please do a work of healing on that
biker we saw who was injured. Thank you
for protecting the others. Amen.
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