Looking Back and Letting Go

One by one, the objects and pieces of clothing that accompanied me on my Ironman journey have been returned to regular service. The red long-sleeved shirt that ran across the finish line with me is back in my rainy-day stack in the closet, my hat, shorts, and socks (the ones marked with my name and race number) have all seen many runs since last November. My shoes finally gave out and became retired to regular around-town shoes, but eventually they'll be too worn down for even this out-to-pasture duty and then I'll be faced with what to do with them. It seems almost sacreligious to toss in the dumpster the very shoes that covered my feet for so many long and torturous miles. I also haven't been able to bring myself to remove the number from my racing helmet, though that day is coming too as the first races of the season are less than a month away.

I did finally order this video, shortly before the offer to do so expired, and I'm really glad that I did. The kids enjoy watching themselves and we all got a laugh out of the dubbed in "You Are An Ironman!" on the audio track. In reality, there were so many of us hitting the finish line at once, he never announced my name at all, nor did he make that famous pronouncement. I had to become an Ironman in anonyminity.

I may take my shoes to the only fitting resting spot I can think of, Pre's Rock, where many runners and athletes leave race numbers, shoes, and medals at the spot where Steve Prefontaine died. The number will come off of my helmet and a new number for a future race will take it's place. It's time to move on.