Greetings on this last day of 2015. Last January I wrote a post about four little words, I can do that. Something happened this year letting me know I can’t.
Some things stick with you, images you can never shake. I saw something on television in 1983, the Hawaii Ironman competition. The woman who led the entire race collapsed near the finish line. The woman behind her passed her while she crawled toward the finish. She made it across the finish line under her own power. Then collapsed.
The image lingers in my mind to this day. It inspired me to race.
Fifteen years later I still have the bug. I enjoy small race venues—where no one will swim over the top of me.
A small drop of water splashed into my life bucket last March. The ripple effects now felt in waves.
I was late making my hotel reservation for the triathlon. The triathlon host hotel sold two weeks prior. The new owners cancelled all the existing hotel reservations and filled the hotel with the overflow guests of their casino-resort.
The hotel clerk I spoke to kept her job.
However, she explained the new owners would not notify the original guests. It was the responsibility of the original owner.
Very upset, she told me she could not contact anyone and let them know including the race organizers. Nor could she make a reservation for me—the hotel was full.
Instead, she gave me a list of alternate hotels with phone numbers.
I reserved a room at another hotel.
A drop of water in the bucket.
After contacting the race organizers and filling them in, I heard nothing until five weeks before the race.
All race distances were now the day after the scheduled race day, a Sunday.
If we couldn’t make it, we had three options: Roll over a credit to the 2016 race; a free transfer to another athlete to take our place; rollover credit to another event in September for the same distance. None of them refunds.
The ripples from the drop of water.
Another e-mail. Packet pick-up changed locations from the new host hotel to the convention center.
The race came and went—attendance way down.
And one thousand souls who could have raced the previous day but opted to race in 2016 were left bobbing in the water after the tidal wave: The 2016 racing season cancelled.
All because a small hotel in a small town sold, the race organizer was forced to fold.
Which means this year, I can’t do that.
But I will keep “tri-ing”.
May the new year bring you smooth waters for blogging. And may the decisions you make bring positive drops of water to your life bucket.
Happy New Year.