It was June 2, 2022, and Tyler Kirk and I were beginning the last leg of our Crazy Man Quadrathon, our fundraising effort for the Diabetes Foundation of Mississippi. We had started at 5:33 a.m. from 722 Crockett with a 2.8-mile run to the end of Hades Road and back. That was to get us awake and get a few miles in before the sun was up good. Normally, on June 2, doing endurance events requires a great effort to stay hydrated and to manage body heat. Splitting our ten miles of running up was one way we planned to prevent dehydration and heat stroke.
With the first run over, we went to Plate City Gym for the powerlifting meet. Since a powerlifting meet starts with the squat, I checked the j-hooks on the power rack. They were a little high for me, set there the last time Tyler squatted heavy. When he goes heavy, he likes the hooks high, too high for me. We lowered them, and he suggested that I squat first and get mine out of the way so we could raise the hooks and leave them there.
I worked up quickly and put on a pair of .25 pound plates to give me a PR. Really, .25 pound plates? Yes, I had recently ordered a set of fractional plates from Titan Fitness, and they came in the day before just in time for our meet. I had been looking at them online for two years but they were always out of stock. Finally, I found them in stock and immediately ordered a set. Besides the .25 pounders, the set includes a pair of .5s, a pair of .75s, and a pair of one pounders. These allow for very small increases in weight instead of the minimum of five pound jump if 2.5s are the lightest plates you have.
After making the half pound PR, I knew I was good for a bit more so I took off the .25s and put on the one pounders. I made the lift and decided that was good enough although I felt like maybe I could have done a little more. Why am I not revealing how much I squatted? I am ashamed of how pitiful my leg strength is. My wife does not even know how much I squat. Tyler Kirk is the only person on planet earth who has the security clearance to have that knowledge. We raised the j-hooks and set Tyler loose who went to work and maxed out at a nice 355 pounds.
Next was the bench press. Again, I went first and worked the weight up rapidly. Just like with the squat, I went .5 pounds above the last time I maxed out on the bench. After making that lift, I knew there was more. Again, I took the .25s off and added the one pounders to take the weight to 162. The bar stalled about three inches above my chest and Tyler was reaching down for it when I felt the bar move ever so slightly. I grunted "No," and grinded for about ten seconds before I locked it out. That was a true max. I don't think I could have pushed another ounce. Tyler then took possession of the bench and maxed out at 305 pounds.
Next, we moved to the deadlift. I hit an all-time PR at 270 pounds and decided not to try for more. A pulled back muscle would make the rest of the event impossible. Tyler also PRd at 430. Up next, the log press.
I quickly maxed at 25 pounds over the log weight which I think is 63 pounds. Titan no longer makes this particular log, and I don't remember its specifications. If correct, that would give me a total of 88 pounds which ties my all-time max on that lift. Tyler hit the log plus a full plate on each side for 153 pounds. If you are figuring that Tyler is twice as strong as me, congratulations, you win a cookie.
With the powerlifting meet over, we headed out running to Twin Rivers for our swim. We shuffled two miles over and got into the pool. Like our run and like our lifting meet, the swim would have four parts: four quarter mile swims. The first quarter was a warmup in Twin River's big pool. I know everybody thinks it's a 50-meter pool, but actually, it's a yards pool, a 55-yarder to be exact. It's true. I went in one morning with a wheel and measured it. So down and back four times is exactly a quarter mile.
The first quarter was a warmup. The next two we swam for time. I think I went 7:25 and 7:28. We cooled down on the last quarter giving us one mile of swimming. Between the four swims, I kept looking at the sky which was growing dark and angry. Once I pointed it out to Tyler. He said, "We have been training for this since December. I don't care if a hurricane comes. I'm finishing." That's the stuff it takes, and Tyler has it.
After swimming, we put our shoes on and ran two miles back to Crockett Ave. Now we had 6.8 miles of running on our legs in addition to a max squat and a max deadlift. Next up was 55 miles on the bicycle.
Bethany Theilman of the Diabetes Foundation of Mississippi had arrived. To our pleasant surprise, she informed us that she intended to accompany us in her van. That would give us some needed safety. Not only that, but Brett Freeman and Richard Beatty had agreed to meet us at Bankston and maybe do some pulling for us. Pulling? Yeah, riding ahead of us breaking the wind and making our pedaling a little easier. When we approached Bankston, however, we noticed a cyclist leaving, heading south. I hollered as loud as I could, but he kept going. We lost our puller only being twenty minutes behind schedule.
Once on Money Road, the skies opened up and showered us with heat-killing rain. It did not feel bad at all. Bethany was ahead of us by a good 100 meters or more. I asked Tyler if he thought he could close the gap and pull up beside her. "Tell her to let us get on her bumper." T said he could do it and did. She dropped back and we proceeded to motor pace for the next ten miles. We were going fifteen to sixteen miles per hour at and twelve miles per hour effort. It was nice until Tyler hit a pot hole and blew a front tire.
It took us a long time to change that tire and when we did and aired it with a CO2 cartridge, it immediately went flat. I found a tube in my bag, and we did it all over again, but this time we aired it with a small handpump that I carry but had not used in years. It worked and after probably thirty minutes we were back on the road.
All was well for about three miles until T hit another pot hole and blew another tire. I pulled out my last tube, and we fixed the flat. We were fifteen miles into a fifty-five mile ride, and we had already gone through three tubes, which was all we had. That's when we decided that Bethany should get behind us. The motor pacing was nice, but you can't see the road. If you hit a dead racoon, you crash. If you hit a pot hole and you weight 240 pounds, you blow a tire. That's just the way it works.
So we started back pulling our own wind. We were out of backup and still had forty miles to go so we watched the road closely and avoided all holes. It rained on us steadily. Tyler and I both remarked how it wasn't bad, in fact it was better than being hot. We never got hot that whole day. When we got to Highway 8, we decided to turn west instead of east. A few tenths of a mile west and the highway crosses the Tallahatchie River. We turned off there and hit the county road that leads into Minter City. We rode through downtown Minter City. I'm sure Bethany feels cultured now. We went south and decided to turn at twenty-five miles. We were running out of road, and turning at twenty-five would leave us an even five to make up on the way back.
We cycled all the way back to Money and stopped so I could let Bethany know we were in that infamous town. Also, I needed to pee and took one on the side of Ben Roy's Service. We then pedaled out Coleman Road to get our extra five miles so we would finish with fifty-five miles. That's what we promised the people, and that's what we did.
After we got back on Money Road, we started a pattern of pedaling for a few minutes, then standing up on the pedals and freewheeling for a while, a sure sign of tired riders. One thing I have learned about Tyler: when he gets tired, he turns red. I looked over at him. He was red. "Are you feeling it?" I asked.
"I'm feeling it," he answered. "What about you?"
"I'm feeling it too."
We stopped at Little Zion MB Church so we could tell Bethany about Robert Johnson and The Help. Bethany had not seen the movie. We showed her the Whittington house where Skeeter lives in the movie. In town, we stopped at the corner of Poplar and East Jeff Davis where the film ends. We made our last stop at Little Red Park where the busses pick up the maids in that movie. I hope Bethany watches the film.
We made it back to Crockett Ave. We had run 6.8 miles, swum a mile, maxed out on four lifts, and cycled fifty-five miles. Now only 3.2 miles remained. I sat in a chair behind my pickup truck's tailgate and ate a Payday and drank some Gatorade. "Come on Z, let's finish this thing." Tyler said with urgency.
I changed shoes then I had to go inside for another pee. Back under the carport, we gave Bethany the bag that contained $5,360.50 mostly in checks with a few pounds of pocket change. She had informed us that what I had already mailed in and what was given online had amounted to $1,120. So we had raised over $6,000, but our goal was and remains $7,500.
Bethany wanted pictures and took a few. Then she wanted a video of us running. This is where you came in, where this narrative started in the first paragraph of this blog. Three strides and I could not do it. I bent over and tried to stretch, but my back was exacting its revenge for the powerlifting and the four hours bent over on the bicycle. I can't say what I did was even walking. I waddled. It was ugly and painful and embarrassing. But Tyler and I moved our feet down a lot of side streets and alleys trying to stay out of sight. But we did it, we finished that last 3.2 miles. Tyler and I did a fist bump, then he got into his truck and drove off. That's how we do it. Thank you, Jesus.
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