#21 All I could be.

We drove north, back to mile 590. Franz was just getting there. Ralph and John approached the window of the van, but I couldn’t get out. I was spent. I was disappointed. I didn’t want them to see me in this van. For all they did for me, and all they hoped for me…part of me thought I let them down.

Now we had to go see Tanner finish. We were two hours away, and I didn’t think we’d get to the finish line before he did, but we had to try. “Let’s go see Tanner!” We headed up the road toward Ensenada. 15 minutes later, we called Bobby, who had been chasing Tanner all race with Kevin, Todd, Chad and Doug. Bobby was standing at the finish line. 

Tanner was beat. He laid the bike down ten times in the last 40 miles, where the silt was really bad. Up one hill, a buggy was disabled, blocking the course. Tanner pulled up behind him and had to stop in the left rut. Another buggy came around the corner and up the hill. Tanner flagged him, and leaned his bike over to the left at a 45-degree angle onto the dirt. The second buggy pulled up and ran Tanner’s wheels over. The helmet camera footage was unbelievable. The buggy’s tires were 4” up over the spokes, resting right on Tanner’s wheels. It’s a wonder his wheels were not bent. Maybe it was the soft silt underneath for his wheels to imprint in that saved his race. When that mayhem cleared, he kept going, onto the glory of finishing the Baja 1000 Ironman.

“Tanner just came in!” Bobby said. He gave the phone to Tanner, which was quite awkward for Tanner with all the excitement at the finish. This was the boy I had riding an ATV, holding him between my legs when he was ten months old. “Congratulations, son!” I said. “Are you ok?” He said he was. I let him go as there were three more people waiting to interview him, and a Trophy Truck had just pulled up behind him. In the interview, just before I called, he told them I was out there racing still…I had mixed emotions. I was so happy for him, and so happy for me as his Dad, but depressed that I, his wingman, would not be rolling up onto that podium with him. 

Over 5000 people have climbed Mt. Everest. Tanner had become only the 12th person to finish the Baja 1000 Ironman since they officially created the class in 2013.

He finished sixth out of 11. In a historical year, 8 out of the 11 Ironman starters finished. He was riding for 28.5 hours. I was so proud of him. He paid a heavy price. It was agony for him too, but finishing made it all worth it. Tanner could not straighten out his fingers, or make a fist, but it didn’t matter.

The first Ironman across the finish line, Jeff Benrud, came in with a broken wrist and a concussion. He would be penalized back to second place, but that’s another story. Tanner’s helmet camera showed that the winner missed virtual checkpoints and should have been penalized 10 minutes for each, but his tracker was not working for the first half of the race. We think Jeff should have won.

When we got back to Ensenada, we headed back to the hotel. I met Tanner there in the room in an anticlimactic fashion. It should have been on the podium. This would take time to process. We had been up for 32 hours now. We labored to get our gear off and laid down in our beds. I went unconscious for two hours, when Tanner woke me up to tell me the whole team was going to dinner. I took a shower and found lots of marks, abrasions and burns I did not know were there. My wrist was black and blue, there was a burn hole in the side of my leg, and my nose and neck had scuffs on them. No worries now – they’d all heal. Later I’d find out the severity of my neck injury – whiplash with seven cervical and throsic vertebrae out of place and torn muscles around them. It would take well over a month to feel better.

I sat at dinner with our team – all 13 of us. We were all happy for what had happened. I held my head up with my hand through dinner, looking forward to seeing my chiropractor soon. 

Our friends said it was one of the most incredible experiences of their lives – one they’d never forget. That’s how I felt. We all felt it together. We were different now.

The range of possibilities in life just expanded like a supernova.

We were in it together. I am certain I would not have gotten as far as I did without my friends’ presence. We laughed. I think we all cried. We suffered together. We mixed blood. Boundaries erased. We towered.

What does it mean to do something you didn’t think possible? To give it everything and go beyond yourself? What does it feel like? What does it do for a man?

I left Baja, in late November of 2016, with all I am, and all I could be, in harmony.