Ready and waiting for thirsty racers. |
When I mentioned the idea of volunteering for the Top Notch –
locally known simply as “The Triathlon” – the kids were immediately eager. The
Triathlon is more than a challenging athletic contest; it is a community
gathering, a day where friends and neighbors come together to support an event
that benefits the local recreation department. My kids cheered me on as I
completed the final leg of the race four years ago, and after volunteering last
weekend, they’ve caught the Triathlon bug.
Now in its third decade, the Triathlon attracts racers from
local towns and as far away as Alaska. We saw serious, hard core competitors on
the mountain last weekend, as well as youngsters accompanied by parents, the
local elementary school principal, and the town’s police chief. The results
show competitors ranging in age from 11 to 77, and finish times from just over
an hour to well over three.
Our Triathlon day started with an early morning ride up the
Cannon Mountain Tramway, with the kids remarking several times how strange it
seemed to be on the Tram during the summer, rather than when the mountains are
blanketed with snow and we are dressed in ski boots and warm layers. With us in
the tram car was Jean McKenna, who has served for the past several years as the
official finish line greeter on Triathlon day.
Bubbly and welcoming (even first thing in the morning), Jean
spends hours handing out bottles of water and words of encouragement for those
last few yards of the race. Even when you think your legs will give out and
your lungs burst with the effort of making it to the top of the mountain and
across the finish, you keep going, if for no other reason than Jean says you
can. She ran the race for 13 years before retiring to her finish line post, and
there’s no better person for the job.
Saturday morning, we left Jean to her task and hiked to our
station, descending a trail the kids had only ever skied. We all agreed the
pitch seems steeper when you’re wearing sneakers and walking through
wildflowers than when there are skis strapped to your feet and the downward
schuss is effortless.
We spotted the first competitor about an hour after the race
started, and a few more speedy racers passed within the next few minutes. Some
of these took water without slowing their pace, steady and strong. Soon enough
there was a stream of climbers, and gradually the intensity of the racers
lessened. There were more smiles, pauses to drink the water or refill bottles,
brief snippets of conversation. Many racers thanked us for being there. Several
made joyful, though tired, exclamations upon seeing us over the rise. Some
asked how much further there was to go, and we told them to listen for the
cheers from the finish line, which I know inspire tired legs to keep trucking on
that final steep stretch.
Several friends passed our station in the crowded middle of
the pack, some doing the Triathlon for the first time, others annual repeaters.
Many racers were sporting shirts from past Top Notch Triathlons, indicating
they’d been here before. One man near the end told us he’ll turn 70 next year.
He’s done the race as part of the team in past years, but this year was
competing as an individual. He wants to do the same next year, figuring if he
simply finishes, he’ll be in the top three of the 70-plus category.
I’m not sure my children realized the uniqueness of an event
that encompasses the community, not sure they see the value in living in a
place where kids not much older than they are willingly push themselves through
the course, or where their school principal climbs mountains, or where the
chief of police comes smiling through, well ahead of the sergeant, who pauses
to catch his breath and tell us that completing the Triathlon is a goal he’s
wanted to accomplish for three years.
Long before the last racers came through, though, the kids
asked if we could repeat the experience next year, participate in the day once
again as volunteers. But they’re also talking with each other and with friends
about putting together Triathlon teams someday, joining the cadre of bikers,
swimmers, and mountain climbers toiling through the natural playground in our
backyard.
Maybe they don’t yet realize how lucky they are to be
growing up here, but they know Triathlon Day is special.
Original content by Meghan McCarthy McPhaul, posted to her Blog: Writings From a Full Life. This essay also appears as Meghan's Close to Home column in the August 12, 2016 edition of the Littleton Record.
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