Prepping for Comrades
In just a couple days I’ll be running 56 miles. From Pietermaritzburg to Durban, South Africa. It’s called the Comrades Marathon. The world’s oldest, most respected and most prestigious ultra-marathon.
Until a few months ago, I would not have imagined that I’d be lining up with 21,000 others doing what most other Earthlings have trouble comprehending. But somehow fate stepped in and set me upon yet another wonderful path of opportunity and self-discovery. (There’s something about running marathons eight out of ten weekends, mostly by yourself, that confirms you’ve been blessed with physical health and opportunities some others aren’t so fortunate to enjoy.)
Last December I was lining up a late entry to Ironman Canada when my wife, the lovely Dr. Sharon Wetherall, busted out the good news: she’s pregnant with our third child and it’s due on August 20…which happens to be a week before the big race in Penticton, BC. And like that, Ironman was out. Then the phone call came from the Challenged Athletes Foundation; “I just got a call from Andy Baldwin, he’s looking for a leg amputee to run this big huge race in Africa, are you in?” My gut reaction—and immediate answer—was “No.” Eighteen hours later, after a little time to digest and discuss with Sharon, I was in. Thirty-six hours later I got in a 12 mile run. A few days later I toughed out a 17-miler. Next thing you know I’m running a 34-miler in Moab…through a foot of snow!…for like a mile…but still.
Now I’m on a continent I’ve never stepped foot on before preparing for something I might never repeat. Heck, I might not even finish—there’s no guarantees. I’m hoping, in no particular order, that might back, my right knee (the “good” side”) and my stump can tough it out.
The one thing I have in my favor, other than lots of Ironman experience, is the knowledge that I’ve made a personal pledge—as did Andy, Josh Cox and 14 other runners—to generate 100 sponsorships for needy African children running as a member of Team World Vision. And to those sponsors (most of which I have yet to generate) I’ve pledged that I’ll finish the race to help provide a better life experience to those not as fortunate as me. So when the pain sets it, I’ll fall back on the knowledge that this suffering is brief and voluntary and that reaching the finish line—in less that 12 hours—is why I signed up and is truly the only option.
To support our teams efforts and sponsor a child so that he or she may receive immunizations, clean water, education and more, please visit www.theultimatecause.org.
Center for the Intrepid
The Challenged Athletes Foundation has a program called Operation Rebound designated to assist disabled/injured US military personnel in reaching their athletic goals, whatever they might be. CAF was asked to conduct a triathlon clinic for the current patients at Brooks Army Medical Center in San Antonio, Texas. This clinic took place May 20-21 at the Center for the Intrepid, the state-of-the art prosthetic and rehab facility on base. Facilitators of the program were myself, Carlos Moleda, a former Navy SEAL shot in the back during the Granada invasion of 1983 and the Hawaiian Ironman wheelchair division world record holder, and Evan Morgan, a 25-year old Marine who lost both legs and vision in his right eye in Iraq before becoming a competitive triathlete.
In the midst of single and double below-knee amputees, single and double above-knee amps, below knee/above knee amps, arm amps, triple amps, and severely burned, one can’t help but be humbled and awed by the sacrifices these individuals have made. Mine was the only civilian injury in the group of 30 or so in the room and the honor of being part of this was certainly not lost on me. I’d like to extend a sincerely “thank you” to Nico Marcolongo of CAF for including me on this trip.
It was great to see these guys and gals get in the water with open minds eager to learn. For the most part they had no true swimming skills, yet 90 minutes later most of them had improved ten fold. Some had not been in the water since their injury and yet, save one, they showed no fear or hesitation. They listened when critiqued, applied the lesson the next lap and left the water with a sincere appreciation for their new skills and understanding of the theory behind freestyle swimming.
That afternoon the BK’s and arm amps rode standard bikes and pretty much everyone else was introduced to handcycles. Carlos handled the latter instruction while I talked up the basics for competitive cycling. Unlike swimming, everyone knows how to ride a bike with some degree of control. I found it difficult in this short lesson to impart any practical techniques to them because once we got out on the road to ride they all rode their pace and enjoyed the beautiful afternoon, and without proper pedals, ie, without being “attached,” proper technique is hard to accomplish anyway. So we all just went out and got sunburned.
The next day we worked on running and nearly every participant had a proper run prosthesis, which made it very easy to evaluate gates and offer practical advice. Like the time spent in the pool, all the soldiers listened, applied and improved.
While the chance to offer years of experience to a well-deserving audience was certainly rewarding, the most thrilling part of the trip was sitting around after wrapping things up and hearing the stories that led us all there to begin with.
