by Roger Galindo

Bar none, July 30, 2000, was the most fulfilling day of my 21 years; the day I competed in Ironman USA.  The Ironman is the longest and most celebrated race in the sport of Triathlon.  It is an individual sport in which each competitor attempts to complete a course consisting of a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile bike leg, and a 26.2-mile run.

My love for Triathlon began here on the Island when I was 13.  My friend Joe Taylor at the time was the manager of the Westview Pool complex and saw that I enjoyed racing my bike around the Island.  He was a triathlete himself and introduced me to the sport.  He was never able to do The Ironman, but I have kept that dream ever since, knowing that one day I would do it.  I attend Cornell as an undergrad but last year had the opportunity to go to Oxford University in England.  It was right before I left that the opportunity of The Ironman came up, so I decided to commit to it even though I would be training abroad on my own.

I came back to the States July 24 after ten months away with less than a week before the big race.  Needless to say, those six days flew by and, before I knew it, I was in Lake Placid, New York, getting ready to do The Ironman.

This was the day I had been waiting for.  I got up at 4:00 a.m. to give myself enough time to have breakfast, check over everything (bike, shoes, goggles, drinks, etc.) one last time and be race ready.  Unfortunately, I had awakened to a cold, damp, foggy morning, and by 6:30 a.m., with a half-hour before the race, there was still no sign of the weather clearing up — with a 70 percent chance of rain.  By 6:50 a.m. all the competitors were in the lake and the fog was as persistent and strong as I have ever seen.  I couldn't see the ESPN helicopter buzzing above or the thousands of spectators buzzing from the shore, but the energy and spirit were there.

Then, while the national anthem was being played, a small miracle occurred as I felt something touch the right side of my face.  Rays of light were coming from the rising sun, piercing through the clouds.  It seemed mystical...  As soon as the sun came up, the gun sounded, and we were off.

Out of 1,600 competitors I was one of the ten youngest, so I did not put a lot of pressure on myself, because I already knew I was ahead of my time even to be there.  My main goal, as for every other competitor, was to cross the finish line because the race is not against others but against oneself — to push the limits and go the distance.

In spite of the 70 percent chance of rain, the weather turned out to be perfect.  The race started at 7:00 a.m. with the sun piercing through the fog and clouds.  As I was swimming, sometimes being bumped and kicked by others and vice- versa (by mistake of course), many things raced through my head, from focusing on my stroke and swimming efficiently to the realization that I was actually competing in The Ironman.  I came out of the water in good position since I did the 2.4-mile swim ten minutes faster than I had planned.  Out of the three disciplines, I'm best on the bike, then the run, then the swim, so I was planning on having a decent swim, a really strong bike leg and then a good marathon.

So far, so good.

But just as I started riding my bike and getting adjusted, I got a flat tire.  Only a half-mile onto the bike leg, and I got a flat!  I couldn't believe it.  Flats occur, but not that often.  Throughout my thousands of miles of training in Oxford I had only four flats the entire year, so I was hoping that I would not get one on race day.  Nonetheless I did, so there I was fixing my flat as everyone I beat on the swim passed me, giving sympathy-support.

Within ten minutes, I was back on the road, determined to make up the lost ground.  After all, there were over 111 miles to go on the bike so I knew I had time.  I quickly made up time, passing dozens of cyclists, climbing the mountains hard and pedaling fast.  I told myself that as long as I didn't get another flat I'd be fine — but no sooner than that, I got another flat at mile 22.

Not today, I told myself, but with no time for hesitation I quickly fixed the flat and got back on the road.  I was far back by now but within striking distance to remain competitive.  However, after less than two minutes back on the road, I got a third flat on my rear tire!  I now knew there was something wrong with the wheel, so I waited for technical support to come by in their vehicle so that I could swap wheels, because if I continued I would have certainly not have been able to finish.  However, support came a full hour later, and all they had was a smaller tire — so now my bike was inclined because of the big front and small rear tire.  Doing a course in the Adirondack Mountains, the remaining 90 miles proved to be a real challenge.

The crowds along the whole course were amazing, as were the thousands of volunteers and professionals pulling off the race.  Their unconditional support made my adrenalin flow and made me push myself harder than ever.  With almost two hours lost on the bike leg, I was thankful to get off the bike course before the 5:30 p.m. cutoff time, even with a fourth flat I got on my front tire 40 miles later.

On to the marathon...

The extra effort of riding an inclined bike left my body very tired before I got to the first of 26 miles on the run.  At that point I knew it was going to be a really long run but, being headstrong, I kept telling myself forward, forward, forward.  The way I approached it was that each mile completed was one mile closer to the finish line.

By halfway through the marathon it was night, and the volunteers gave all the runners on the course green glow sticks.  All I could see now were the glow sticks of the competitors in front and behind me.  It is hard to describe, but it made for a very emotional experience to be out there with all those people determined to cross the finish line.  There were Jeeps with spotlights so that they could search the road to see if anyone had fainted off to the side.  There were also 20 ambulances on the course and I saw a few pass me with those competitors on their way to the hospital.  Again, the support from everyone was unbelievable.  People kept saying, "Don't give up," "You can do it," "You're almost there." Throughout the race, I acknowledged them with a thanks or nod but by the second half of the marathon leg I was reduced to giving a thumbs up...

As I neared the finish area, I saw the lights and heard the noise of the thousands of people playing music, dancing and cheering at the finish line.  As I came closer I heard the announcer say there were only eighteen minutes left before midnight, but by then I was less than a half mile out and I knew I had it.  I picked up the pace as I got closer and closer, with an amazing feeling of accomplishment.  The screams and chants grew louder and louder and then I heard my name being called, the announcer said, "We have another winner: Roger Galindo, number 112 from New York City, is coming through."

As I came around the final bend and saw the finish line with the thousands of people in the stands, I stopped for a split- second, jumped, pumped my fist and then bolted the final 100 yards to the finish line with my arms raised.  Yessss, I did it!

After 16 hours and 45 minutes of intense racing, I found out how it feels to dig deep, push the limits and live a dream — simply great.