I just got back from Traverse City where I did my 14th Iceman. 2:32. 10 minutes slower than my previous slowest time, 38 minutes off my best time, but the course was a few miles longer and I was only 3 minutes slower than I predicted. My bike worked flawlessly and I chose my clothes and food perfectly. I had a good time with friends. I will chalk this up as a good race.
Denny and Barb broke the derailleur on their tandem and had to walk the last few miles. I met them at Sue's car after the race to give them their dry clothes. They looked like they were on the verge of hypothermia, but still positive and smiling. It is a crazy race, cold and sloppy, yet I can't wait until next year.
Maybe I don't try hard enough. I saw a grown man have a total meltdown because his chain broke. He swore, threw his helmet at his bike, and paced around as if this were a tragedy too great for words. Just a broken chain. A minor issue that that should set him back maybe 2 minutes. He was my age and in my group. He wasn't going to place. Ever. I always consider the possibility that I am looking at things wrong. I would have shrugged off a broken chain with little more than a sigh but maybe I need more passion. Maybe, but I'm pretty sure that guy was just a dickhead.
Denny said our mutual friend Steve was doing the race. I haven't seen Steve since we rented a house together after college. This is the only picture I have of him; we were visiting Mike who was going to school in Toronto. Steve is on my far right, Denny on my left. Denny told me Steve's daughter was racing the Iceman too. I briefly though this was impossible, Steve was only 21, but then I realized that was 25 years ago. He was a football star in high school. He made girls swoon. It took him just over 3 hours to do the Iceman. Life is okay.
