This morning (Monday) is getaway day for the remaining two members of Team Baumer (or Mrs. B, Mr. B, and Baby Boy, our “official” name we registered under). Mark, aka, Baby Boy, jumped the 1:00 pm Amtrak back to points south and Providence after we sat down, breaking bread post-race, over lobster, along with a thousand or so other people.
All good things must come to an end. Mary and I had hoped to get up and watch the sun come up over the water this morning. Instead, we were greeted with a wet parking lot and a light rain falling when we stepped out the door of The Edgewater. No sunrise for the early risers today.
The weekend was special. For me, it was being able to participate with the two most important people in my life—the two that I love the most. While my injury a few weeks ago (August 7) wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened, it was a significant one, and having a traumatic pneumothorax isn’t the stuff that triathlons are made of (but they do occur when you train on a bike). I wasn’t sure even a week ago about my ability to ride 25 miles.
While Mary did the swim, bike, run on her own last year, we both thought having Mark join us and compete as a team would be special—and it was. Mark is a strong runner, Mary is a very good swimmer, and I’m good on the bike. Even though I was at 75 percent capacity, my time was respectable. Overall, our performance was good enough to finish 3rd in the relay (team) portion of the Olympic segment of the Rev3.
Please note that the numbers of relay teams is quite small, so the three of us aren’t planning on quitting our day jobs to become professional athletes. There were plenty of them at the Rev3, because this is a big deal in the world of triathlons and triathletes, and Old Orchard was home for a day or two, of some world-class triathletes competing in the Rev3 event.
After Mark left, Miss Mary and I sat alongside the ocean’s edge and just soaked in the sun. We’ve only been at the beach two other times this summer, only once at the ocean. She loves the sea, and I enjoy just listening to the waves lapping against the shore.
Old Orchard is a tourist town in the summer. It has a long tradition, especially with Canadian tourists coming south from Montreal and New Englanders flocking north to one of the best sand beaches on the east coast. They all come to enjoy the white sands and experience what is unique to this community nestled up against the Atlantic Ocean.
When I was small, Old Orchard meant bumper cars, the Zipper, and other rides, when my sister and I, made an annual pilgrimage with our parents. Mary’s parents met at Old Orchard. Her Mom had journeyed down from Montreal with her sisters for some summer fun and dancing; her dad, a dashing football player, swept Joan off her feet, or at least made a big enough impression on the dance floor that the two of them corresponded and eventually fell in love and were married. Joe’s no longer with us (passing away in 1999), but Mary never tires of telling that Old Orchard has a lot to do with her being here.
To be honest, I find much of the area near the intersection of East and West Grand a bit tackier than I prefer. For many that’s the lure of the seaside town. East of the Pier, Old Orchard is especially tourist tacky. However, after all these years, this weekend, Mary and I figured out that things seem to change just west of The Brunswick. There’s less noise and music from the open deck places where bikers hang out and drink. There’s nothing wrong with bikers, but it’s not our scene. When we’re on two wheels, were propelled by pedal-power, not the internal-combustion engine.
West Grand is a bit slower, probably a little older, although there were plenty of kids where we were staying. We’ve made note of this for the future.
It’s Monday, technically a “day off,” if freelancers ever really have one. Given that it’s raining, we’re probably headed out earlier than we planned. No sun and surf for us today. I’ll probably even end up doing some work on a project I’m looking to wrap up. I’ll put the finishing touches on my class materials for my first writing class, and we’ll have a nice dinner together before plunging into the work week completely.
We will take the memories of the weekend home with us, another awesome Rev3, one that I got to share with the special people in my life.