Eppies Great Race 1998 – 25th Anniversary Triathlon.
Billed as the “original” Triathlon. It’s a 6.5 mile run, then a 12.5 mile bike ride followed by a 6 mile river paddle. This would be my fourth time entering. I had spent marginal training time as I was busy working on a consulting engagement in Atlanta for the months prior to the race (yeah, yeah; no excuse for not running I know).
Race day. Got a good night’s sleep. I am ready. Get up early. Already have bike and kayak loaded in and on the Jeep. Head out to drop off Kayak. To Sunrise Bridge near Negro Bar on the American River. Beautiful day! Put kayak on rocky north bank of river along with many (a thousand?) others doing the same. Place my life jacket and water bottle in it and it’s ready. Everyone is in great spirits anticipating a lot of fun.
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| Kayaks at Sunrise bridge prepositioned for their paddlers. |
Then, I head west for about 12 miles to Guy West Bridge near Sacramento State College – It’s a little copy of the Golden Gate, designed for foot and bicycle traffic – neat bridge and the day is still beautiful. Position my bike on rack in over-50 Ironman Division ("Ironman"...a hell of a good sounding name don’t you think?!). Position helmet and gloves on rack. Make sure my jugs are on the bike…one is water and one is Gatorade. Plus, I have been sippin’ a stainless steel mug of delicious coffee all the way through these preparations!
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| Sacramento State University Guy West Bridge |
Get home and Julieann, my wonderful wife and “Pit Boss” is prepared to drive me to the race start point near Arden Pond a couple of miles away from our home. I fool around the house and waste time so when Julie gets me there the race is about to start. I head for the bathroom anyway, along with several hundred entrants with the same mission. I am a supposedly clever, seasoned veteran though so I mosey a couple of hundred yards up the trail to the permanent facilities. They are not crowded but I still manage to not make it back in time for the start of the race.
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| The famous start line. If there is an old dude up front there with the pack it could be me. |
I am with the "Ironman" (There it is again!) contestants. The Ironman folks are those who intend to complete the full triathlon alone. The wheelchair entrants, who are faster than anyone, began two minutes before us and the relay teams (teams of runners, bikers and paddlers) will begin two minutes after us. After I get maybe a half mile down the trail, the lead runners from the relays usually catch me. These are the guys who are 6' tall, weigh 145 pounds and do sub 5-minute miles. As they approach you from behind, the sound of air whooshing in and out of their lungs is very powerful and they look like they can run forever. I believe these are people who will tell you for a fact that a runner’s high is indescribable.
We run (I shuffle) 6.5 miles west on the trail. Along the way, around the three-mile point, we are fortunate to find a couple of folks who have run water hoses from their homes backing up against the levee our trail is on. If you want, they will spray you from head to toe. It’s a great feeling because it is usually in the 90’s by the time you hit this point. The first year I did this race, one of the “hose” guys noticed me shuffling along at the back of the pack and said, “don’t worry buddy, there are millions of people out today who aren’t doing a damn thing!”
To the Guy West Bridge, I am somewhere over 70 minutes along. I am jog/shuffling at a 10 minute mile pace but ahead of last year's pace! This is great! I hop on the bike, over 90% of them are gone by this time and head out with a great WHOOP!!! (I am so fired up at this point) to celebrate the end of the run. The bike and kayaking are a piece of cake in comparison. Heading east along the river. It is still a beautiful day, I've got plenty of beverages and I'm making good time on the bike…drafting some guys for a while. It’s a lot of fun and most of them go faster than I can. They pull ahead and I go solo for a while until I catch up to two young women who are switching drafts on each other. I fall in third and they are moving at a good clip for me, 18.5 miles an hour.
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| Eppies bikers on the trail. |
We are within a half-mile of finishing the 12.5 mile bike portion when a squirrel suddenly runs across the path in front of the second woman, the one I am drafting. She swerves to avoid the squirrel and goes down immediately. I know I am going down too. My front tire is a couple of feet from her body lying across the trail, if that much. I let go of the handlebars and at the moment of impact with her body, do a flying “W” (forward somersault) over the front of both bikes and the fallen rider, landing on my back on the trail. I am expecting the worst for her but she gets up immediately.
She and her friend start asking me if I am “OK”. I am laying there taking inventory to see if everything still moves and I say, “yeah” when I actually don’t have a clue. It seems all right though so I stand up and start looking over the damage. They take off just as an emergency medicine technician comes running up from a station a couple of hundred feet ahead. He congratulates me on a “spectacular” crash and watches me pick up my bike to check it out. He stands back like he is not supposed to assist me for fear of complicating my position among the entrants. Yeah right, as if I am in contention for anything other than finishing. I ask him to hold the bike while I attempt to get the rear tire to turn. Failing, I then decide to carry the bike on my shoulder in manly fashion to the finish. First, I have him apply a Band-Aid to my finger because it is bleeding all over the place. Then I pick up the bike and head down the trail.
An old man (as if I am not) spectator comes by and asks me if I need some help. I decide to forego the manly behavior and say, “why not?” so I set the bike down to check it out again. I finally notice the rear wheel isn’t turning because the adjustable brake has been jammed into the tire rim. It only takes a second to reach down and bend it back into position and I am off! I come whipping into the finish, a little shocky but damn happy that everything seems to function. Julieann Marie, my Pit Boss and very understanding wife, is there to catch the bike and point me across the bridge to the kayak. I quickly tell her my story, hopefully without too much embellishment and head off to finish in the kayak. Still can’t feel anything hurting too bad – musta been some kind of miracle.
Paddling down the river now, taking it pretty easy knowing I am now so far behind my normal pace it doesn’t matter. Chatting with a few other entrants along the way. Even help a female (rookie paddler) get out of a swirl she is caught in. Now I am feeling manly and heroic again. It doesn’t take much…
Next, I approach the San Juan rapids which are normally nothing more than a rough chop but “due to unseasonably high runoff” are a little higher this year. Of course, I am a ‘seasoned veteran’ and know to paddle like hell to get through without losing balance and tipping over. As I am about half way through, my “paddle like hell” technique suddenly fails and I tip over. Since I am way behind, it’s ok. I am floating down river clutching my upturned kayak, paddle and water jug. The water is moving kind of fast so I am wondering if I am going to be able to tip it over and climb back in as I have been taught…but haven’t practiced in a couple of years.
A river volunteer comes over in a ski-doo and asks me if I want some help. I look over and recognize him as the guy who taught me how to go through rapids in a beginners kayak course a few years before. Of course I want a "full refund" on his class but all I get is a laugh and a tow to shore with my gear. So I proceed to empty the water out of my kayak, put my gear back in and head down stream. Finally, the true finish! I am feeling pretty good, having worked out a little with weights to strengthen the old upper body. I notice Julieann, my trusty Pit Boss, is standing there to cheer me on. I start to roll out of the kayak while the attendants grab it so I can waddle to the finish line.
Getting out of a kayak into a foot or so of water is ordinarily a fairly awkward maneuver and this time my left leg has fallen asleep and won’t work! So I look pretty pitiful as I collapse a couple times into the river before the leg starts working again. All the time I am thinking Julie will be worried this has something to do with the earlier bike accident.
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| A kayaker disembarks and heads for the finish a few yards away. |
Nevertheless, I stumble a hundred feet to the finish. This is worth mentioning again: What a beautiful day!
With luck, I’ll be back next year, maybe wearing leathers (heh…heh…) to minimize the road rash I picked up all over the right side of my back.
Life is an amazing thing. If I was to do it over, I wouldn’t have smoked so long, I would have had more kids, started running sooner and I would have been a better husband to Julieann. I am extremely grateful for what there is so far though.
Postscript: October, 2003. I have retired the helmet I was wearing that day. You can see the scrape on the left side where my head hit the pavement as I completed the famous “Flying W” somersault. My stick-on contestant entry number is on it too. It is hanging on a rack in my office along with mementoes of son Tyler’s glorious baseball days. I think that is a great spot for a nice reminder of another day when I was extremely lucky.
I haven’t done another Eppies as I haven’t made time to train. But you never know…
Post-postscript: September 2019. Borrowed this note for background: "Triathlete and fundraising activist Eppaminondas "Eppie" Johnson owned 16 all-night coffee shops plus upscale restaurants between California and Las Vegas. The first Great Race was held in 1974 as a way for Johnson to promote his original restaurant, at 30th and N streets in Sacramento. The race ran for 45 years until 2018, five years after Johnson's death at 85."
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