Mallorca 70.3: The Finish Line Still Counts

Twelve Minutes Late

After 8 hours and 42 minutes, I crossed the finish line.

I walked through the finish area with the medal on, found Kat on the other side, leaned over, and started to cry.

I was thinking about Alex. I was thinking about Jason. I was thinking about how much I love them. I was thinking about what this race meant to me and why I wanted to do it in the first place.

I had set out to do something symbolic for them. To make a promise to them and to keep it.

I missed the official cutoff time by 12 minutes.

Because of that, the official results will show DNF.

Did Not Finish.

That part is strange to write, because I did finish the course. I got through the swim, the bike, and the run. I crossed the finish line. I have a medal that says so.

But officially, I was 12 minutes late.

This race was not about a time, and that does not bother me as much as I might have expected. I know what happened out there.

I know the swim did not go the way I expected. I know I lost time holding onto a buoy, taking off my wetsuit, and talking to race officials from the water. I know a swim that should have taken around 40 to 45 minutes took almost an hour.

I know the bike did not go the way I expected either. My power readings were wrong. My heart rate data was unreliable. I dropped a bottle on the climb. I crashed on wet roads. My rear derailleur stopped shifting. I rode the last part of the course with two usable gears, tired legs, rain, wind, and a headwind.

I know I got to T2 and did not want to keep going.

But I put on my run shoes and went out on the course.

I walked most of it. I jogged when I could. I met Robin. We talked, kept each other company, and stayed together. When he told me to go ahead near the end, I did not want to leave him.

We finished together.

When I write all of this out and read it back, it almost does not sound true. The drive to do the event, all the training, everything the race meant and symbolized to me, the weather, the rain holding off long enough to get down the descent, crashing later, the gears not working, the wind picking up, wanting to quit so many times, finding Robin on the course, almost not finishing at all, and then going down the red carpet together.

It sounds made up.

But it is not.

It actually happened.

And it happened in a way I never imagined.

The official results will say DNF, but I know I crossed the finish line.

I have the medal.

More importantly, I know why I was there. It was about Alex and Jason. It was about trying to be the best person and dad I can be for them.

I did not get the official result I wanted.

But I finished the course.

Twelve minutes late.
Still finished.