Colors in the western sky were fading into night and the student hadn’t scared me too badly on this last take-off. Nevertheless I continued my scan between his control of the airplane and its relationship with outside world. Though the student funded my airborne sightseeing, this was the sort of beautiful evening I’d rather be sharing with my husband in this cramped cockpit. As we climbed eastbound above the trees a glowing orb perched on the horizon, a hazy orange-gray and slightly swollen at the bottom as if settled from a day of rest.
We turned tail on the moon momentarily as we set up for the next landing and take-off. The next time around the “pattern”, the orb glowed more brightly and a shade yellower. On the third time around the moon had climbed into the star-filled sky and joined my memories of countless other full moons.
It seems I was in an unusually pensive mood that evening as I recovered from my second half Ironman triathlon of the year. I started this race sixteen minutes behind my spouse, but my main concern was finishing in front of Pam. Pam and I have dueled in nearly every race this season, and this was the biggest one. I began the race beside her in the swim and exited the water just in front of her. She passed me on the bike and disappeared into the distance. She was banking on her fast bike leg while I had been working hardest on my run. As I finished the 56 miles of biking, I saw her trotting out on the run and calculated that she was five minutes in front of me. I’ll spare you a description of the torturous half marathon in hot pursuit of my rival after three hours of swimming and biking. Suffice it to say I did huff and puff my way past Pam at mile nine. To my surprise as I rounded the corner at mile twelve a bight yellow jersey bouncing along atop a familiar stride caught my eye not far in front of me. I patted Sandi’s butt as I caught up to him in his golden Fellowship of Christian Athletes – Endurance jersey that matched my own (almost J ).
“Let’s finish together,” I panted. “Sure,” he managed, “but you’ll have to gimme one” (fighter pilot speak for “slow down a little”). I’ll admit I glanced behind me during those final three tenths of a mile to ensure I wouldn’t sacrifice my second place award. But my real fear in slowing was that my body would say, “enough!” There comes a time in such a race when a person can go at only one speed. The body has no more energy to go faster and going slower risks an undesired full stop. Nevertheless, we managed to lug our exhausted legs and lungs up the steep, mercifully short, hill to the finish line, as the loud speaker blared, “it’s the Douglasses, from Dalzell, SC, finishing together…now there’s a testament to a marriage!” And then we keeled over in agony and relief…together.
Even “those” things are better – together!
