Timi, Parker and I made it home from Oklahoma City in record time--six hours from the door of my parent's house on Quail Creek Rd to the Main Street Bistro in New Paltz. (Peter will be delivered back to Brooklyn by his Grandaddy on Monday.) Still digesting a bagel and a round of eggs benedict, Parker dragged me over to the running store so he could smooch Tramp, a friendly looking, four-legged fellow that he'd spotted from the corner of Main Street. Timi trailed along behind. Big mistake. Entering the running shop reminded Timi that the Survival of the Shawangunks, Ulster County's legendary half-ironman, was on Sunday. I was hoping he'd forgotten all about it.
A 45-minute discussion about how exactly one swims with your shoes on (race rules) with the store manager, that's Tramp's owner, led Timi to the following conclusion: the best possible shoe would be his handmade, Viennese-leather lace-ups. Whoever claims you need brains to earn a PhD must not have known Timi. At least, after 18 miles of running, 38 miles of biking, and 3 miles of swimming, maybe it'll finally be time to bury those pitiful shoes. May they rest in peace.
The day was yet young at 3pm, and Timi's mind was ablaze with training possibilities, so we set for home. I was pleasantly surprised to find an overnight guest, the lovely (even at six-months pregnant) Abby Clough, waiting on our breezeway. Just what we needed: a distraction. We popped some beers and visited about our summer holidays and pondered tomboy names. Just when I was certain training and the SOS were again a distant memory, Abby mentioned her fondness for Wilder, a name they'd come across on a sign recently in New Hampshire. Calling the baby Wilder Lawless must have reminded Timi that he still had illegal business to attend to himself in the park that evening. Abby, Parker, Winston (Abby's dog) and I took off on our walk toward Cherry Hill road. And Timi commenced PHASE Three of SOS training. It was ten minutes to six, and he had no phone.
He pedaled from our garage to the Lake Awosting parking lot via Kerhonkson. He ran to Lake Awosting. Swam across the lake under a gorgeous, albeit moonless, sky. Ran back down along Hamilton Path (and claims he almost fell off the cliff for lack of light). He finally arrived back at the parking lot, mounted his bike and proceeded back home via Clove Valley Road. It was pitch black, and he had to hoot like an owl the entire ride home to frighten away any deer that might be lurking in the road. In several sections, he had to stop and walk his bike because it was so hard to see which way the road went. His biggest fear was hitting some animal, being thrown off his bike, knocked out and then run over by a car and left for roadkill.
Around 9pm, Abby and I sat down to watch Mad Men. "Where's Timi?" she asked. "Wasn't I worried?" Not really. I refused to worry about him until the clock struck midnight.
Just before my prince reached Clove Valley extension, a local in a pick-up truck, out poaching boulders for his vegetable garden, slammed his foot on the breaks just in time. He pulled alongside Timi, rolled down the glass and said: "I have just one question. Are you mental?" The man couldn't believe he'd almost run over a lone warrior biking in the pitch dark.
Timi replied that his wife thought he was. The man said, "Hop in, I'll take you home to her." Timi slid his bike in next to the stolen boulders and jumped in the cab. He arrived back at the house at 10:30 PM. Exhausted. Elated.
Training Log for the day:
Bike: 21 miles
Run: 10 miles
Swim: .5 mile
His ability to start? To finish? All bets are on. Who wants to start the pool?
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