It’s just about 8….AM…. New Year’s Day.
So, this is how it feels to wake up without regrets about what and how much went into my body the night before. Actually, that is a bit of an exaggeration, as those years of seasonal extravagance and remorse ended well before anyone knew about the wrath of Justin Bieber on music. I now see that the Ontario lad is now shilling Timbits, so I know a duet with Ian Tyson will soon be on the way and all will be well with the music world.
That other wrath is still with us, that Covid-thing, version…whatever. That thing that has, and continues to, throw uncertainty into the lives of most of us. When I go back to work on Monday, however, it will be without students; that is certain. But is it shocking? Not so much anymore.
It’s usually on this day that I look giddily at a blank piece of paper and fill it with race dates. For the second year in a row, this may become an exercise in disappointment and flushed dreams. For two years in a row I trained for Ironman Canada. For two years in a row, I stood in a wetsuit next to a Big Peach with only a handful of other die-hards who didn’t need a medal and a tattoo and a t-shirt as evidence that we had too much spare time on our hands. Yeah, we did the whole damn thing anyway.
If you had an opportunity to do a real race in the past 20 months you were either rich or lucky or both. Anybody with the money and motivation could scoot over to Andorra or Arizona or Alberta, places where the local leaders deemed Covid “over.” Over here in BC, Bonnie’s abundance of caution cancelled most races.
Folks who managed to race the Vancouver Triathlon totally lucked out as the heat domes of summer had passed, Covid numbers temporarily abated, and the curse of the coyote was averted. Hitting the finish line must have been as much of a relief as it was an accomplishment. Being on a real race course with real salt water stinging your eyes, real gravity pulling you downhill, and having real people pass you was something most of us thought was a right…not a privilege. Truthfully, however, I’m more of a racing is a necessity kind of athlete. A greedy bastard.
And as lucky as you were in actually having a race to do, you may have been doubly lucky if you had a race ready bike to do the race on. In 2021, the worldwide conspiracy against cyclists and triathletes entered stage 2 with bikes and the things that make them move (chains, derailleurs and the like) being in short supply and the prices of used equipment rise substantially.
As you map out your athletic year you need the faith of a pilgrim and the nerve of a gambler. What happens if all the races you sign up for are cancelled? Worse yet, what happens if all the races that you signed up for this year, plus all those races that you rolled over from 2020 and 2021 actually go ahead? Physical exhaustion and financial ruin looms on the horizon. Well maybe not but you have a lot of thinking and soul searching to do before you whip out that credit card and hit register. Happy New Year!