Two-Man Ironman

On Sept. 17, 2022, Jeff and his son, Johnny, set out to begin the first of three legs of the Ironman competition in Cambridge, where competitors must complete a 140 miles of swimming, bicycling and running in under 17 hours. Johnny was born with cerebral palsy (脑瘫) and could barely walk a few steps with the help of a rolling walker. But his dream of being a runner never stopped.

Determined to show Johnny that he could pursue his dream of being an athlete, Jeff helped him engage in running. They began waking up at 4 am, so Jeff could run while pushing his son in a special wheelchair called a racing chair. Every morning, they drove themselves to run increasingly longer distances. Soon, they were entering 5K races, then on to Ironman competition. At first, Jeff would act as Johnny’s arms and legs, carrying the weight of his son. Gradually, Johnny could even run a few miles using a rolling walker.

The race began with a 2.4-mile swim in the Choptank River. Jeff helped Johnny into a kayak (独木舟). With one end of a rope tied to a harness around his back and the other end to the kayak, Jeff eased himself into the water. Swimming while dragging another person was tough enough—Jeff also had to struggle with jellyfish. “I occupied my mind by counting the number of times I got stung (蛰),” he said.

The pair completed the swim in 90 minutes, and it was on to the next leg: a 112-mile bicycle ride. Their custom-built bike has an extra-strong frame and an additional seat in the back for Johnny that faces backward, the better to cheer on other competitors.

After completing the tough bike section in roughly nine hours, they set their sights on the final leg of the race—a 26.2-mile marathon with Jeff pushing Johnny in the racing chair. They’d been competing for 10.5 hours, leaving another 6.5 hours to make their time.

Paragraph 1: But at Mile 19, Jeff began to panic, convinced they were going too slow.

Paragraph 2: After 16 hours, 55 minutes and 35 seconds, father and son crossed the finish line together.

My 11-year-old daughter, Elizabeth, started to talk about quitting swimming, which broke my heart because she loves swimming. So when the swim season began, I cut a deal with her. She would practice three times a week and try really hard. I wouldn't make her compete in the swim meets. Elizabeth does not like swim meets. She gets horribly nervous but not because she wants to win. She doesn't care if she wins.

Recently, Elizabeth's team announced a special swim night： Members 11 and older would swim a timed 50 meters relay. It wasn't exactly a meet, because it would involve only team members. That was my view. Elizabeth argued that it absolutely was a meet because there would be races. I told Elizabeth I really wanted her to go. She fought back angrily but finally agreed.

When the day of the special swim night arrived Elizabeth was nervous. She was the youngest person and shorter by at least a foot than most of the other kids. She panicked when it was time for the T-shirt relay. The relay works like this： One person from each relay team puts on a T-shirt, a pair of socks» and a swim cap； swims 50 meters; and gets out of the pool. She takes off the clothes and puts them on the next person, who then swims 50 meters. This continues until everyone on the team has completed a lap.

Then it was Elizabeth's turn to swim. She seemed to swim faster in the T-shirt and socks than she did when she wasn't wearing them. Approaching the halfway mark, Elizabeth was in the lead. Suddenly, somebody noticed that one of Elizabeth's socks had fallen off and was floating （漂）in the pool. "She has to get that sock on before the end of the race," a swimming official told Elizabeth's team, ^“or you will be disqualified.^”

Everybody on her team started screaming ^“Elizabeth! Get the sock!”

On the ride home, she shared her moment of winning again and again.