Steve Larsen Dies.

Steve Larsen died today. For those not quite acquainted, he started as a pro cyclist riding for the Motorola Team in the late 80’s and early 90’s. He went on to ride as a pro mountain biker narrowly missing the 2000 Olympic team before switching his focus to triathlon.  From there on out he was an Ironman and a good one at that, never taking the World Champion trophy in Hawaii but adding serious top ten performances and a few wins in other events along the way. I don’t know much more about him other than to respect his legacy as an all around athlete and the depth he added to triathlon.

What I’m reflecting on is the manner of his recent death. He suffered an apparent heart attack on Tuesday May 19th during a workout at the age of 39. What brought this about is anybodies guess. An incident like this harks back to the death of Ryan Shay, the Olympic hopeful who in the 2008 Olympic trials in NYC had his heart seize at the young age of 28. In the meantime the likes of Alberto Salazaar, one of America’s top runners of the 70’s and 80’s suffered a near fatal heart attack. There are many more instances that follow a similar path. The question is why? When people have lived such healthy and responsible lifestyles; why? We may never know and it’s not in me to jab at the reasons here.

Fear sets in. That’s what this is really about. This could happen to me.

It’s anybodies guess as to what the exact causes are. Science and faith be damned. That’s how I feel sometimes when neither of them provide rigid, absolute answers. It’s a matter of what’s the worth and what’s the value of anything when it can all be stripped away so quickly, without any seemingly discernible reason.

As an athlete my conviction day after day is to point myself in a given direction and move forward under my own physical powers. I don’t need much brain power to do this. In fact,  sometimes that’s the beauty of why I partake in these athletic endeavors. I proceed to run in circles, swim lap after lap, follow the black line, flip and then turn back, get on the bike and spin to oblivion. In circles. It feels good not to think about things, feels good because other explanations fall short. For the glory, for the beauty… of pushing to the limits, for the self, to inspire others, to take advantage of these talents. Really what’s the point? Assign any intrinsic value here that the heart desires.

Except, the pounding magnifies, inside the chest as the body is labored, as the mind strives to rationalize and wrestle with the pain. But it’s self inflicted. Brought upon by some foolish desire, or some passion, dare any sense be attributed to these actions.

The finish where is the finish? All the time waiting for the gun to fire, for this big moment, waiting for it to happen. And then it’s happening and it hurts like hell, only for a second wind and neurons fire, I can do this, I can do this. Where is the finish? I’m hurting too much. All the time to reflect and then it’s done. The heart pounding. Then it’s done. Then it stops. Was it worth it?

RIP Steve Larsen