It is finished

Time is an abstract idea. We can not hear it, we can not touch it, and we can not see it. Yes, we can mark its passing, but for all our great success as a civilization to measure the smallest particle of time, it still remains a total mystery. I have concluded that time can only be described as change. Change is what being alive is all about. Time as well as change does not exist for the dead. While on the cross, the last words from the Savior’s mouth were: “it is finished”, meaning –time is finished— i.e... that death was now upon him and thus all divinely designed changes had been accomplished.

I’ve heard said that every great journey begins with the first step. My first step on this great expedition was back in March ’08 when I registered for this race. Because the only way I understand time is time moving forward, I knew that the day would arrive at its precise moment, 7:00am on Nov 23rd, 2008.

Before the sun was out I found myself, with the rest of the gang that traveled from Puerto Rico for this event --46 in all, in a corner next to the cold stream of water where the swim was to start in less than 20 minutes. I felt cold while others felt warm. Julito realized it as he was already taking off his jacket and generously giving it to me. Was it that obvious?

As usual, JC Padró was energized. His otherwise enigmatic face showed the cheerfulness of a child on Christmas morning about to open Santa’s presents. In unison, without a verbal command, everyone gathered in a large circle hands over each other’s shoulder as Rauli began a prayer. He was really inspired this morning. His loud and confident voice echoed with a hint of courage and deep emotion. But, I was shivering. I felt the cold that springs from within. It is formed from a biochemical concoction of adrenaline mixed with fear and anger. When you fear something for enough time, it begins to annoy you, then it irritates, and finally it infuriates. It becomes a “bring it on” type of fear. You think you scare me? This -I’m-‘gona-kick-your-ass-fear made my knees shake in defiance. I knew the Ironman race demands a high level of respect, but the game face is on and there is no turning back now. So, BRING IT ON!

I knew I had to calm myself. I knew how. At 46 I’m not that young anymore. I’ve practiced it for many years now. Deep breaths, think positive, don’t allow yourself to acknowledge the eight-hundred pound gorilla in the room. Block any negative thoughts and emotions. Stop the cold sweat. Start the swim slow. Bring the heart rate down… I found myself next to JC on the circle with his arm over my shoulder. I've always admire his courage. My trembling called his attention; he slapped my back and reprehended me. I stopped shaking, for a minute, and then began again... a few times over.

With the help of Gersan and a few others I was able to squeeze into my tight wetsuit. The water temperature was below 60 degrees. We all got on the water and spread all over just before the cannon shot. I looked around at the multitude of swim caps. Kenneth was at my left. Perhaps oblivious, perhaps defiant, my friend, Angel was way on the front line. I pitied him. I knew the mass start was going to be rough. I expected it. It’s all part of the game. It’s ok with me. I’ve been kicked and punched before during the swim... but never like this. The knocking in the back of my head wouldn’t stop. Time after time I was punched in my right eye knocking the goggles to my mouth. Time after time I composed my goggles and continued swimming. But I was loosing my temper. “Cabrón” --I yelled after being kicked on the crouch. Any basic instinct reaction comes out in Spanish. I tried to continue, but not long after someone who had started down with my right ankle and then my hip, now had my right arm on a firm grip as he pressed himself forward over me pushing me down. I swallowed murky water from the Tempe Rio Salado. I thought broken sentences in broken English: this it --no more --me fuck you --you pay --you pay now. In one move I had him by the arm. I went back to my childhood. I remembered my oldest brother and all the times I thought I’d drawn with his horseplay anytime he could surprise me near water. I remembered the desperation felt when just surfacing and about to inhale only to be pulled down again. I remembered coughing water each time. I was very young when I learned to do it back to others. I call it the Crespo-maneuver. Cruelty exploded like blood gushing out of a fresh wound, and... There was no way to stop the hemorrhage now. It was not his words; “I’m sorry –glup-glup –but please –glup-glup- let me go” that stirred me to let him loose; it was the terrified look on his eyes.

It didn’t take long before my anger turned to sorrow. I know that some people do this when afraid of water. I should have been slower to react. Even with this obviously ill-intentioned trick of using my body as a spring board, I should have been more compassionate, perhaps show more benevolence. People deserve the benefit of the doubt and he really looked frighten (after the Crespo-maneuver). Besides, nothing really worries me on water. I swallow water all the time to avoid taking it to my lungs. Heck --sometimes I swallow water just because I’m thirsty. For what is worth; I’m deeply sorry and I hope he’s ok. (But just don't mess with me again :-)

A few miles on the bike and the desert revealed itself. Warner Brothers’ Acme landscape dominated the arid view. Strange rock formations and green cactuses on the barren soil seem to quietly witness our madness on the road. There were some water bottles, bike parts, and small plastic energy gel containers here and there. None of these things belong here; not even the road we were on, but the view is magnificent and I’m just glad I’m part of it. My thoughts wandered around in no particular order or purpose... “Were we invading sacred land?” “Have I eaten enough?” “Am I drinking too much or too little?” “I think I’d like to own one of those disc wheels, they look awesome; but then I’d have to stop using my powertap which I like a lot”. “Are God and the angels looking down on us now?” “Wow…, what a beautiful rock formation just ahead”. I also spoke to myself: “concentrate, concentrate, concentrate and stop wandering around”. I speak to myself a lot; at least I never answer to myself, not yet anyway.

The Ironman race is not without religion and rituals. Each tribe has its own sacraments. Some rituals signal the coming of age, time, the passage from one stage to another, change. Other tribe’s ceremonies seem absurd to the rest of us. As humans we can’t live without them. It seems like it was programmed during creation in deep grooves on our wrinkled brains. But, who can explain the Easter egg hunt as a celebration of the Crucifixion? How about Christmas? Don’t get me started on tradition. I watched “Fiddler on the Roof”, a master piece about tradition, as a teenager a thousand times. That and “The Sound of Music” were the only movies that the Church would allow us to see. They played it at every special occasion, maybe three or four times per year, edited of course. I only wish I’d paid more attention :-) Suffice it to say that most activities and celebrations we participate on are not totally absent of some type of ritual that conveys pleasure and confirms our own existence.

This was how, in the finest of traditions and respecting their liturgical rituals, while surrounded by “seniors” with no chance to escape, I was also “inducted” into the “IronIsla Ironman” with the shaving of the head the day prior to the event. I like to say I had no choice, but I could’ve wrestled with the 30 of them… or maybe not. Well, it doesn’t matter, I’m a team player. I know how to take one from time to time for the team. Besides, hair will grow back. I just won’t have to visit the barber for a while.

In this tribe, the shaving of the head signals the passing from “rookie” to “senior”, graduation time has cometh. Just at the right time, I’m not a rookie anymore as I also had no choice but to show my new changed look on all my race pictures. And now, after 11 hours and 34 minutes of total race time –as announced over the load speaker: “Reinaldo you are now an IRONMAN”, I can say like Christ did: “Consumado es” (“it is finished”) -and thank God it is!