Ironman

Ironman

Chilly air chases sleep away

Cold in upon the calf

The months of training

Over at last

Now into the wet suit

To join the crowd

Near the lake.

Chilly pebbles against the feet

Breathe deep and slow

And slow the heartbeat

With a clear calm mind

Looking at the buoys on the lake

Ready and confident

You have what it takes.

The starter’s instructions

And the gun

Cold water seeps into the suit

Settle into a strong rhythm

Got to keep this beat

Encouraged by canoeists

Think of the scuba divers

Somewhere down beneath.

The voice of the announcer

You now hear with each stroke

Will I make it in time

And still be able to compete?

Dig a little deeper

With each stroke

Drawing strength from the crowd

Beginning to hope.

Joy reigns supreme

As you stagger to shore

The clock and the crowd

Now you know for sure

You can do it

Struggle out of the suit

With helping hands

On with the shoes

Ready to bike

Walk the bike to the street

Off to the shouts and cheers.

Settle into rhythm, whistle or hum

A peppy song to move along

Pushing on the flat sections

Moved along by the crowds

Thankful for the dedicated crews

Manning the aid stations

Replacing the liquids you know

You will lose.

Pushing up the Richtar

The notorious pass

Shifting down, watching

As other pass, keep calm

Race your own race

Sweat in your eyes

And down your face.

Over the top, now downhill

Pass a cyclist who has passed you

Something is wrong, but

You will see this through

Not just for yourself and family

But for volunteers and crews

For spectators and athletes too.

Still time to enjoy the beauty

Of the picturesque Similkameen

Sweat through the rolling roads

Before heading back home

Never far from aid stations

Encouragement and cheers

Just one final big challenge.

The Yellow Lake hill

The day’s toughest test

Again we gear down

Down to our lowest gear

Don’t look too far up

Concentrate on each separate stroke

Just make the top.

The crowds get thicker

As we near the town

Runners and bikers crowding the road

The announcers voice above the rest

I am still in time

Still in the race

Into the transition

Bike right to the end

Swing off the bike

And onto my feet.

Feel the saddle sores

The blisters burst on the feet

Into the running gear

To the cheering crowd onto the street

I will not let them down

First try to run, then to walk

Hoping to finish before ten o’clock

Night fall, the way gets dark

I am late but will not give up

The crowds urge me on

They don’t care that I’m late

Their support touches my heart

I will be back next year for sure

To these dedicated fans

I’ll give back

The race is officially over

But I heard the crowd

Still vocal and loud

With a tear in my eye

And a lump in my throat

I stride for the line

With family and friends.

It’s hard to explain

The incredible joy

For the thousands who have given

Their support for this day

It is them that I’ll remember

When I wear the medal

This is their Ironman Day.

Bob Richards

Written after doing the first race in 1993 at age 50.  Did the race each year until 2000. Plan on doing the next one in 2018 at age 75.

Poem published in Penticton and Area Secrets and Surprises by Penticton Writers and Publishers in 1994

To My Parents

TO MY PARENTS

I came into the world naked and weak,

You took me to your bosom and nurtured me.

Larger than life you stood beside me,

Protected me from peril, yet

Allowed me to make my own way.

If I fell you picked me up with love,

If I succeeded you showered me with pride.

Gentle, loving giants to this small child,

Slowly shrank through passing years,

Till at last this adolescent teen,

You looked in the eye and gave his wings

While trying to guide his rebellious ways.

Though we sometime fought-

Often did not agree-

One thing remained constant

From the times on your knees-

The love that you gave me.

Now as you grow tired

And slowly give way to the years.

Can I give you protection and care,

So the circle of life and the circle of love

Will continue to be fulfilled,

The way you showed me those years ago.

Bob Richards

Trapped

TRAPPED

I turned and was lost,

Frozen in place

By the beauty of your face,

Soul mirrored in you eyes,

One look at your loving soul

Melted my heart away.

Its not just bullets and arrows,

That fly straight and true

To pierce the unwary heart.

Strength and armour protect not.

The hunters heart is not immune

To cupids cruel darts.

The hunter dispatches he quarry

Swiftly to ease its pain.

With heavy, compassionate heart

The sharp knife does it’s work.

One last shudder, the deer lies still,

The pain quickly over.

Yet the hunter’s heart is not immune,

And is snared in one brief glance

Into your soft and loving eyes.

Unable to hold you in his arms

He must forever endure

The lonely ache in his heart.

Bob Richards