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An Ode to LifeSporter Randy
As Reported on Competitor.com |
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| May 12, 2009 |
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Written By Susan Grant
What makes someone a good athlete? Is it strength? Stamina? Speed? I'm sure it can be a mixture of all of these things, but what really makes someone stand out is their capacity for sportsmanship. I met a true athlete this weekend at Wildflower, and his name is Randy Peterson.
When I got out of the waters of Lake San Antonio, I felt good. I knew I still had 72 miles ahead of me, but I was ready for it. I caught a glimpse of my husband as I mounted my bike, flashed him a smile and zoomed out toward the first of many hills of the day: Beach Hill. I had been extremely nervous about my wheel choice, and had been driving my coworkers absolutely nuts for weeks. I ended up on 404s with a puncture resistant Conti tire that was hard to flat on, but an absolute bitch to change. The sidewalls of the tire were Kevlar, making popping it in and out time consuming and frustrating. My coworkers Nestor and Jay basically told me I had little chance of flatting, but if I did it would be all over for me. They begged me to use sew-ups, but I wouldn't listen.
At mile 1.5, while making the climb up Beach Hill, I heard it. Boom! My tire blew and it sent me off the side of the road and into the dirt. I couldn't believe it. I got up and just stood there, staring at my front wheel in disbelief. Then, inexplicably, I just completely, totally lost it. I managed to take the front wheel off and take out my CO2 and tire levers, but my mind was reeling. I was losing so much time. I watched as hoards of people rode past me up the hills, dozens of them on their fully functioning bikes, quickly closing the small gap I had heading out of the swim. "I have to finish this race," I thought to myself. "I don't want to stop." Then, just as I was about to start the tire changing process (which I will admit always takes me a long time), I heard a man's voice call out. "Hey, are you okay? Do you need some help?" Help? I need Valium, I thought to myself, before nodding my head in between sobs.
It was Randy Peterson, a man I had never met before, who stopped his own race to help a perfect stranger. He fixed the tire, and tried to put in as much CO2 as he could, although we could both tell the tire was going to be low. Before he finished he turned to me and said, "I'm Randy." "I'm Susan," I said. "Okay, Susan. Make me proud!" he said, as he rode off.
Despite my aero bottle flying off at mile 5, losing nearly 20 minutes with a flat, and overcoming some serious mental roadblocks, Wildflower ended up being a great race for me. I think that everything I had to overcome just showed me how much I am capable of, and how important it is to take each hurdle as it comes during a race, and never quit.
But the hard truth remains that if not for Randy, I very well may have given up. Stopping your race to help someone else is the ultimate selfless act, and I really do owe my race to him. It takes a great athlete to go fast and win awards, but it takes an even greater athlete to sacrifice their own finish time so that someone else can finish.
Thank you Randy.
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