Solo Ironman 140.6 Miles through Unfamiliar Territory Story by Jimmy Watts Photos by Julie Watts
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020 was disorienting, a year that made mockery of our plans and expectations and made division and uncertainty an aspect of daily living. It was a climb over false ridges, navigating across a landscape that I didn’t have a map for—that none of us had a map for. Lost? ... yes, and loss itself seemed everywhere. Our social, political and professional worlds were upended, and however well-intended, we all struggled to find footing in unfamiliar territory. I navigated the year as a firefighter and father, as did my wife Julie, working as a hospice RN. We juggled the unknowns and risks of COVID-19 alongside the responsibilities of being parents. As unfamiliar as the territory was, we did have a compass to guide us and we did our best to find our way. As spring rolled into summer I got my bearings and followed its needle, and on September 6, 2020 navigated through 140.6 miles of a solo-Ironman Triathlon in Bellingham, WA. This would have been my sixth Ironman, and it became my own personal response to 2020. It was a message to myself, and to my wife and our boys; that despite the hardship and uncertainty this year brought, I’d stay in the game and maintain forward progress in the direction of something positive. Creativity, resiliency and patience would guide our 20
The heartbeat of Cascadia
way through 2020. ‘Together and alone’ we would do this. The unsettling year began, in my case, with a meniscus torn in my left knee during a fire department training exercise, a search and rescue drill in a vacant and dark house. Painful, and unable to bend my leg completely, I had
meniscus surgery on St. Patrick’s Day (just a few days after the March 13th statewide school closure announcement). Luckily the fix happened just in time, as the surgery center was mandated to close the same afternoon as my procedure. Physical therapy offices were also closing, leaving me to rehab my knee on my own. The surgeon’s advice: “ride a bike.” The day after the surgery, I hobbled onto two wheels and tried to make one
revolution with the pedal. It hurt, but I did it. The next day I did two. Things continued in this way for the next few weeks, eventually adding in hill climbs and trips to the end of the road and back. Looking back on 2020, it’s important to recognize we never knew what was going to happen next. There was no clock on this game. Our playbook was being written in real time and the lasting consequences of what was happening were uncertain, difficult and painful. Still, those first few weeks of springtime closures and quarantine, with everyone home, was in many ways nice. Despite a growing sense of disarray, we thought we’d be OK. The spring weather in Bellingham was unusually benevolent and it all felt like a reset of sorts; an unscheduled break from the daily grind. The planet too was taking a breather, and everyone went outside together. The challenges we faced felt surmountable, and we believed that in six weeks time life would return to normal. However, as April passed it became apparent this wasn’t going to be the case. As a nation, the social and political fracture became very real. COVID-19 numbers were getting worse, not better. Closures were not going to reopen anytime soon. Kids were not going back to school; and the reality that these challenges were going to be with us indefinitely began to sink in. Because pools and gyms remained closed as well, I began swimming in Lake Padden for workouts. The water was still >>> Go to AdventuresNW.com
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