I was having one of the best races of my life. I was first out of the water, had a smooth and fast transition, and held off the familiar charge of my triathlon idol, Drew Magill, for most of the bike.
Coming into transition two I received the reality check. As I went half prone onto the ground my eyes were seeing earth…and then sky…then earth…and sky. Crashes happen in an instant but my mind slowed everything down. As I slid across the rough chipseal two toenails were ripped apart, my foot was punctured, and my skin was scraped off my body. My mind was thinking, “this sort of thing doesn’t happen to me.”
As the Murder Machine hit pavement I continued to backslide my way onto the shoulder of the path. I stayed down for probably half a second before 20-something years of my Dad telling me to “walk it off” got me up and moving. In a matter of 3 seconds the crowd went from cheering to a deafening silence. I could feel everyone’s eyes and sympathetic hearts being directed towards me as we all stood quiet.
If you ride bicycles, you will crash. A crash is a very emotional event; crashed cyclists react in a variety of ways, personally I usually get up really ticked off and ready to spit fire. I get mad at the reason for the crash, objects, person, carelessness, loss of focus etc, but also at the outcome, torn kits, road rash, and my P3 (a bike I put auto detailer spray on) tumbling across the pavement being damaged. I came up extra mad this time because 1) it happened in front of so many people, many of them I know, and 2) because I was having a phenomenal race.
As I stood hunched over, a lady brought me the Murder Machine, a gentleman then placed one of my bike shoes on the aero bars. I frustratingly quite asked, “Which way do I go?” A few fans pointed me in the right direction. As I slowly walked to T2 my shoe fell of my aerobars, I didn’t go back. As I continued to walk a guy yelled at me, “Dude go back, you dropped your shoe.” Abandonment of equipment is a variable time penalty under USA Triathlon rules, but I wasn’t having any of it. He yelled again, I still wasn’t having any of it as I kept a blank slate and continued. I overheard a woman say, “Greg, never mind, leave him alone, it’s fine.”
I continued to walk slowly, I was confused at the time, but the fans seemed even more confused. They didn’t know if they should help me, cheer for me, or just sit back and wait for implosion. I saw Kevin and my entourage: Anne, Trina, and Rob. I asked Anne, “Did you see me crash?” I don’t remember exactly what she said but she had seen it. I felt so embarrassed. I continued to extend my slowest transition in history as I walked bleeding from every extremity.
I racked the P3, and took off my helmet. Somehow I managed to get my gushing feet into my Nikes despite two destroyed toenails and a few gouges. It was decision time. Do I call it a day here, or try to go on. I have seen triathletes do both, neither of which they should be ashamed of.
Quitting briefly entered my mind, but then it was gone. I had Anne, Trina, and Rob there watching me and I had just bitten the bust in front of a bunch of people. On top of that, after taking a post-crash break and giving back a few minutes I was still in 2nd place overall. I like to think (my opinion only) that when it comes to triathlon, they don’t come any tougher than me. I left T2 with a slow run walk limp.
The whole run was pain, my feet were hurting, my body was burning with road rash, and I was still ticked. I completed the run with a 6:29 pace and held off two charging racers to hold second place. After making it one step past the finish line I shouted, “I need the medic!”
*Tough :)
*Medic!
*I bled out pretty good on the run
Kevin’s dad, Rob, was waiting for me at the line finish line. Under Rob’s and Deanna’s (race director) watchful eyes the EMTs evaluated and cleaned my wounds. I am very thankful for the care I received, Rob, Trina, Anne, Kevin, Deanna, and the EMTs took excellent care of me. I was in excellent hands under their care. I am going to spare the gory details of getting the injuries cleaned, it hurt badly. I will let the pictures speak for themselves.
At the awards ceremony the race directors called me up to showcase my wounds and give me my 2nd place award. Rory, told everyone how I crashed but still toughed it out to finish. Everyone gave me a big round of applause; my early embarrassment had been erased by my toughness. Lots of people came up to me after the race, which was nice.
I am very thankful for the care I received from Kevin’s family, the EMTs, and the race crowd. Kevin’s family took extra great care of me by making a hospital supply run, preparing great meals, and lodging me in a great Tri-Suite. Kevin finished 3rd in a very stacked age division, and we had an excellent BBQ to seal our successful weekend.
The Aftermath:
*The medical supplies
*Best pain killer ever
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