Ironman Texas 2017 Race Report Part 1. BIG BALLS

in the spirit of post modernism, this year's texas race report will not follow rules of time or space.

thus, we begin at a point in time, not arbitrary, but definitely not chosen according to the traditional story telling way of doing things...

running through a cloudy, upscale forest at mid-afternoon, feeling okay after hours of feeling like shit, i came upon a most unexpected sight. a large, muscular man in a tight, white suit walking with a much shorter, and plumper, hairy man beside him, perhaps a gnome friend of his, through the forest. they looked like a prince and his side-kick questing after something grand.

then i noticed that the prince's armour read "orbea" and i remembered that i was in the woodlands forest and running the first lap of a marathon and that this prince in front of me was andrew starykowicz.

flashback to maybe 2 hours earlier, and this prince flew by me on a monotonous texas pay-route like he was on a motorcycle. having been passed subsequently by several other pros, i was struck by the difference in speed between this white prince and the others. it was like they were in different races. i felt that the prince must be on a suicide mission.

i have never been the hugest starky fan. i never felt negative towards him particularly, except maybe when he dissed my country-boy lionel, but i have always felt mostly neutral towards him. i saw images of his accident, the carnage, the wreckage to his body, and i felt real pity,  then fear for myself, and then i forgot.

seeing starky go flying by on the hardy toll road, i felt an inner sense of jubilation. yes, i was probably a bit hypo-naetremic, but i instantly recalled everything this man has been through in the previous year, and i felt genuine joy in watching him go flying down the highway like some sort of white demon-knight in spandex.

but he will never finish, i told myself. this is clearly a publicity stunt, a ploy to get his sponsors some attention and keep a pay cheque in hand....i am beyond cynical most of the time, and this means, most of the time, that i am a realist.

running up to starky in the forest, watching him walk with an age grouper (i presume) i realized he was in it to finish, no matter what that took. i imagined what his body has been through in the past 12 months. i wondered that he dared to even be on his feet going forward for 42k. he became my instant hero. (okay not on the same level as the man, but no-one will ever take the man's place for me, because in my triathlon world the man=God). but starky became my instant human-hero.

i couldn't suppress myself and called him out as i passed. he responded graciously and kindly and encourage me to keep it up. it was a great moment. it spurred me on. gave me a free 1 k. it was one of those moments that makes ironman worth it all. it was a moment of deep emotion for me, and it felt real all round.

"you are my hero" i yelled..."believe in the dream".

later i found out that starky had set a new ironman world record for the bike split.

just months earlier, he could not walk.

this man is a stud and most definitely has some BIG BALLS.