Today is my brother’s big SilverMan Triathalon. He has been training for this thing for almost a year, I believe. It is the same race as the IronMan, without the brand recognition (and therefore without the crazy cost). It is a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and a 26.2 mile run. And, if you believe the website it is “24 hour fun!” which we all know is complete and total BULLSHIT designed to make people like my brother look less insane than they really are.
I am really nervous and excited for him. I know how hard he has worked to train for this race, and when I talked to him last week? His goal? Is to finish. So, I’m pulling for him to finish and not collapse 50 yards before the finish line like that guy in those Gatorade commercials does.
My Dad flew out there to be there for the race, so he should have a good support group. I would love to be there too, if it weren’t for the whole Having a Baby thing. Of course, if I were there I would probably be too busy making fun of him to cheer him on, that’s what sister’s do, it’s in my blood. And I think me screaming, “Pick up the pace, Booger Face!” would probably piss him off. And seeing as how he outgrew me 20 years ago? I try not to antagonize him as much anymore.
Good Luck, Bro. Don’t die or you’ll screw up my seating arrangements for Thanksgiving.
UPDATE FROM THE 7:35AM:
My brother was still racing strong and looking good to finish the last I spoke with my Dad last night. He had been racing for 10 hours, gone about 127 miles, and had about 13 more to go. I’ll try to call him tonight to get the full report.
Update from 2020: HE FINISHED! I’m going through my posts from this time and I never actually updated. Blame the new Mom brain. I have Dad’s photos from that time so I’m including a few here.