"Two Years, Too Long in the Making" by Russell Moore

First, let me thank a long-time friend, K-Rob Brafford, for lending space on his website so that I could write my first-ever blog entry. Maybe one day I’ll even learn how to use an iPod and drive a stick-shift car (don’t hold your breath on that last one).

A few years ago, I would wake up bleary-eyed at 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. on Saturday mornings to accompany the now ex-girlfriend to her triathlons. Just a faithful spectator with a camera, and something to read for those long stretches when she and other friends would disappear from the transition area to the race course. But one thing surprised me and made me laugh every time I saw it. Why were so many of these people so nervous before the event, sprinting to the bathroom so fast it looked like they were trying to qualify for the race itself? After all, these were some of the healthiest, fastest people I’ve ever seen. They were ready. Why the butterflies?

Then in 2005 I raced in my first triathlon and felt what they always felt, no doubt in large part to the three- and four-foot seas I saw in the ocean when I walked past the dunes to the starting point. I still haven’t been able to shake the butterflies, though mine aren’t nearly as bad as the ones others experience. Now I just wish I had been able to feel the butterflies more in the last two years.

To put it mildly, 2005 could have ended better, and as spring 2006 continued its endless grind and office-work piled up to overwhelming heights, I decided that training for another triathlon would be one way to distract me and pull me from the wreckage of my personal and professional life. I set my sights on the Sandestin Triathlon: a half-mile swim, 20-mile bicycle ride, and a four-mile run. Just long enough to test my physical ability and my mental resolve, both of which had waned too much by that point in time. Within two months, I was slowly improving and the goal was slowly coming into focus. When my 5K running time unexpectedly dropped more than two minutes, it changed my mindset from thoughts of You can do this to You Will Do This, and Faster Than You Thought.

Then, six weeks before the race, a fall in a creek bed during a hike in North Carolina sidelined me for three weeks. Though I was lucky I didn’t break my neck or back, I remember feeling more disappointed that Sandestin would have to wait another year. I later finished a sprint triathlon that fall, but it was no consolation for what my clumsiness had cost me. Increasing the training and weightlifting for two months, I felt better than ever – until one day I felt abdominal pain and had to stop almost all physical activity. Though my doctor disagreed with me, I knew it was a hernia. Another surgeon later told me I had torn two spots in my abdominal wall. How ironic, I thought, in getting my body in the best shape of my life, I’ve broken it.

Postponing surgery seven months for an office that couldn’t function unless I gave my heart and soul to it day and night, I still held out hope that I could recover in time to compete in the 2007 Sandestin race. But recovery was slow and painful, and once again I had to cancel my best intentions. Then doubts arose in my mind. Will you ever be able to finish another triathlon? Why were you cursed with so little athleticism and durability? If you start training again, what will go wrong next time, and will you be able to handle it again?

It took several more months, with fits and starts, before I could consistently train and handle the same physical demands I exacted on myself two years ago. Slowly but surely, I began achieving what I used to do – and a little more. Over the long run, practice went according to plan – despite slowdowns for a strained back, strained shoulder, bronchitis, and two bouts of heat exhaustion that have apparently reduced my tolerance for high temperatures and humidity. Registered and ready for the 2008 Sandestin Triathlon, all I had to do was execute. My parents were ready to meet me there and watch the race, and two close friends told me later that they were going to drive all the way to Destin and surprise me. It would be a fitting milestone on the weekend before my 35th birthday. At least that’s what I thought.

I couldn’t decide what was more ridiculous: the fact that Tropical Storm Faye was over Destin the very day I was supposed to race, or that she followed the same path from Orlando to Destin that I would have taken. What odds. Now I know that Sandestin is a cursed race for me, and its cancellation put me in a foul mood, to say the least. Six months of work, and no chance to prove myself in one of Florida’s most popular USA Triathlon competitions. At that point, saying you tried is not enough, you have to actually do it and finish it.

So without hesitation, feeling stubborn as hell, I registered for an end-of-season race to try and make up for more than two years of frustrations and cancellations. One last chance for this year to finally get it right, and it happens this Sunday – God forbid the weather turns on me again. The race is longer than I originally bargained for – the swim is almost a mile long, the cycling route more than 24 miles, and the run is 6.2 miles. I’ve had to accelerate my training schedule and push my body more than I wanted just to have a chance to finish the race, but thankfully it has held up so far. Two things fuel the motivation to double the length of my longest-ever swim, run two more miles than I ever could, and cycle a course with two causeways. First, a sense of urgency will move you forward quickly when you only have six weeks to prepare. But just as important is where I will race – Melbourne – where I was born and raised. The course is two miles from the houses I grew up in. I’ll swim next to the library where my mother used to take me every week, and the civic center where my father used to take me to toy-train shows. Then cycle past the house where my grandmother lived and helped care for me, and over the causeway my father and I used to cross on our old beach cruisers. Recalling these memories, now more than twenty years old but still vivid in my mind like they happened yesterday, it’s only natural to think You’ve waited too long, and worked harder than you ever have – Don’t screw this up in your hometown.

If it ends the way I want, what is ordinary for hundreds of thousands of triathletes will be a significant accomplishment and a redemption of sorts for me, if only for one day. I wasn’t built for this kind of thing. Twenty years ago, my asthma was bad enough that my doctor excused me from running a single mile within the national standards used in my physical education class. I can still remember how hard it was to finish that one mile, which seemed to go on forever. On Sunday, I have a chance to cover 31 miles of water and land without stopping. A chance, 30 or 40 years from now, to pick up a photograph of me crossing the finish line and look back on what I accomplished. To anyone who ever doubted me – like the interviewer who offered the job to someone else, or the woman who made me feel insignificant and unworthy of her time – a chance to say F**k you. I can do this, and you can’t.

At last, when the race official blows the whistle on Sunday and releases us to dive in the water, I’ll feel the butterflies and crush them all at the same time. Just the way I want, just not the way I originally planned.

LOOK OUT!

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Eight Years Ago

Eight years ago.

In October of 1999 my father went to the doctor with a virus. I didn't even think anything of it. I mean, this was the man that I knew could chew up barbwire and spit out BB's. I knew the doctor would identify some simple virus, give him some medicine and a week later he would be mowing his grass. But it wasn't to be.

I was working in Raleigh selling real estate. Things were going great. I was finishing up the day, changed into my gym clothes and left my office. I was on the 440 beltline in Raleigh and I called home just to see what the doctor said. My mother told me two things that day that I can remember in my mind like it was 5 minutes ago. She said my father had cancer. Then she said that it was in his liver and if it was the particular strand they thought it was, he would not suffer. That's because he would not live long.

My father was further diagnosed and he went into UNC-Chapel Hill for a surgery with the optimism they could remove the cancer. But no, the cancer was embedded in the middle of his liver and was inoperable. They told us that if they had tried to remove it, he would have bled to death. My family was devastated. Hell, I fainted.....I have never fainted before or since. My mother was in shambles. But the doctor told us that he had been heavily sedated, so we could gather our thoughts for the next morning. He was awake in an hour. Nobody was in an emotional state to go in and talk to him. So, I did. He didn't say hardly anything. He had complications, felt terrible, and several aggravating things happened the next several days. Nine days later, we brought him home.

Deddy told me that for the first 3 days out of surgery, he really felt as if Satan himself was trying to distort his mind. But he made his mind up that he was going to accept his fate, fight all he could, and live the best life he could with the time he had left. And that's exactly what he did.

We went to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore and he was accepted into an experimental program with a medicine that was only a number to us. It didn't save his life, but I truly believe it probably quadrupled the time he had left. The doctors and staff were wonderful and I will forever be grateful to them.

We could see his gradual decline even though he did great, given the circumstances. He actually worked until May of 2000, driving himself around. After that, one of us always drove him. Even though the situation was difficult, we still had some great quality times with deddy. The medicines he took the last several months were really strong. Morphine was one of the main medicines he took. On a few occasions, it would affect his mind just a little. For instance, he asked me questions several different times in which I simply answered him, but he thought I was being a smart ass. He would quickly reply, "Don't you answer me like that, I might be sick, but I can still kick your ass!". I quickly assured him that I knew he could, but I was really only answering his question and was not being a smart-ass. He would be content with that explanation and just reply "alright then".

My best friend, Jason McPherson, had planned a trip with his father and his brother. They had planned that trip for some time and were going to travel across the country. The last time we went to Johns Hopkins, they gave us some very grim news. Without a divine intervention, he would not be here much longer. My father was not in the room with us when they told us that and I was glad. He already knew, he didn't have to hear it. I was torn as to whether or not I should tell Jason this news. I didn't want to ruin his trip, but I didn't want him to not be here when my father died and be upset with me for not telling him. So, I decided I had to tell him and encourage him to not change his plans. So, one afternoon I rode over to his house and let him know just how grim the situation was. I remember sitting on his front porch and both of us crying like we were kids. He said there was no way he could go on the trip, and they didn't.

That same buddy got married last Saturday. I am one of the significant reasons they got together. Friday night, we went out and had a few drinks and just sat around and talked. When nobody was really paying attention, he handed me a dollar. He told me that he would tell me about the dollar the next day. Sure enough, the next day as I was getting ready, he came into the room. He said that he had gotten that dollar with the "Where's George" stamp on it a short time before they were to take their trip, eight years ago. You can track the dollar online to see where it goes all over the world. He had planned on spending the dollar when he went with his father and brother on their trip. However, he said after the afternoon that I told him deddy's circumstances were grim, he could not bring himself to spend it. He kept that dollar in his wallet and I know every time he opened it, he thought about my father. He actually told me that in some strange way, he thought it brought him luck. He said several times in his life since then, when certain things went his way, he would look in his wallet and that dollar would be staring at him and he thought of my father.

My brother Travis and I did the same thing on Father's Day we have done since our father died. We go play golf together that morning. I thought about that dollar about as much as I thought about my father. In a world where everyone wants as many dollars as they can accumulate, I have one that means more than all of the others. I have one that is lucky for some reason. I have one that Jason McPherson gave me as a token of his friendship and as an honor to my father. I'm not writing this story to make you feel sympathy or sorrow, nor do I want the story to be about me. I'm writing this story for people to know what a great guy Jason is. That's why I want you to send it to as many people as you can and ask them to do the same. For some reason he folded that dollar up and put it in a safe place within his wallet until he gave it to me. A dollar that I will keep and guard with my life.

A dollar that Jason put in his wallet.....eight years ago.

K-Rob

Primary 2008

Seriously, it is May 1 and I am sick of the election process. Should we just elect a King?

Here is what I want. Let's pick out the 10 most important things we care about. Taxes, the war, the economy, health care, etc. Then we will have the candidates fill out a form to see where they stand. Ok, ok, I know, if I go to their websites, I can find this information. However, the calamity of trying to run each other in the ground often becomes more important than what the candidate stands for.

How many of you are tired of watching TV and EVERY damned commercial is a political ad. I want the candidates commercials to say "this is why I am great". I don't really give a damn about what they think of each other. Seriously, do any of us give a damn if George Bush likes Al Gore? How about Hillary and Obama? Is it going to help me sleep better at night if they become friends. I don't care if they tie themselves together and fight to the death with plastic picnic knives.

The one thing that I do love about the elections is how many experts it creates. I mean, Rush is one smart, oxycontin taking son-of-a-bitch. I get so tired of the extremist on both sides I could throw up. "We have enough oil in Montana to power America for 100 years, but the liberalist will not let us drill there?" What in the hell are you talking about? If we have a supply like that, I say we drill our asses off! Then, let's make a new goal....over the next 100 years, let's see if we can TRY to come up with some great idea for energy besides oil.

I tell you what discourages me. A common man or woman will never be President of the United States. To be honest, I doubt you could even get to be a senator. How much money would the candidates that have ran this year be worth if they pooled their money? How about a tetra-metra-gazillion. That is how much.

What if we could have the best minds, the most reasonably thinking citizens to run for president that would represent the best interest of the United States? Its a great thought, but it will never happen.

But you know what? I turned 35 last year. So look over your shoulder America, K-Rob is peaking around the corner. Do you know what that means? That means I could be president. Do you know what that means? That means a lot of things. Crime would be at an all time low with a slogan of "The Bullshit is Over". You commit a crime, your ass is grass and I'm a damned John Deere lawn mower with racing fuel. You commit a horrendous crime, guess what, the trial last about 10 minutes and then you get the chair. The days of feeling sorry for the criminal just ended. Taxes would be fair, reasonable, and used appropriately. We would make every effort not to have every country besides Canada hating us. "Oil is how much a barrel?, Oh, ok then I guess you want us to shut down our military base and come the hell home?, ok, Hey by the way, good luck with your new best friends Iran and Syria" What in the hell is an earmark? A what? You get 600 million dollars for stuff in your state because you are old? Don't think so.

So I guess we'll just hang in there and mull through the political commercials. It's kind of like a hemorrhoid, its a pain in the ass, but we just have to put up with it. Hopefully, we as a nation will make the right decision for all of us.

Well, here we go. I need a topic to consider. Karl wants me to save the economy, Russell wants me to never speak to him again, Woody can't hear enough, V-Rob is dying to a review of "Silence of the Lambs" through my brain, and Belinda just thinks I'm drunk.

So, where are we? Why do midgets hate me? Global Warming? Was Bugs Bunny gay? The next president? I need to know what you need from me.

So...again, let's hear it. I, in turn, will respond.

Your Pal,

K-Rob

Well, here we go. I'm not sure where this will carry us but I am sure it will be a strange but interesting journey.

Let me go ahead and apologize to everyone I am going to offend in some way.

I guess I will just talk about whatever comes to my mind. Woody once told me that he wished he could just get in my head one day and ride around and listen to my thoughts. So, here is your chance to listen.

Sports, politics, business, idiots, midgets, racists, and any other many topics could be our subject. I may even put some of your articles on here if they are worthy of 0ur mission. And when I know what that mission is, I'll let you know.

So, sit back, relax and enjoy the ride. If you have a subject that we need to address, please let me know. Like, did Buffalo Bill really think he looked good with lipstick, a shear nighty, and pressing his manhood between his legs out of sight. I personally think he did not. But that would be an interesting topic.

I look forward to conferring with you and I hope this grows out of control!

K-Rob