A Rainy Saturday Morning Lesson in Life
Brad Reed
My wife (Sara) and I headed down to Conyers, GA for the annual Muddy Buddy relay on the weekend of June 21. The trip was a great excuse to leave the kids at grandma's, get out of town, and celebrate our 8th wedding anniversary together. We had a great weekend and it was nice to partner with my wife for this unique event.
The Muddy Buddy is a relay race on a course of about 6 miles. One bike is shared between two teammates. The first leg of riders starts off a few seconds in front of the runners. The runners then follow suit, sharing the same course/trail with the bikers. The bikers then get off of the bike at the transition area, complete an obstacle, then begins running. The runner arrives at the same obstacle, completes it, then picks up the same bike and pedals it to the next obstacle.
This leap-frogging continues throughout the course. It sounds pretty straightforward doesn't it? Yes, until a shocking sight rocks your mind, kills your drive, and causes deep reflection throughout the event and even still.
There were 1100 teams of two people waiting for the cannon to send them off. Each team was broken down into combined ages for teams of male, female, and co-ed. The cannon fired for each of the 15 waves of people. Sara and I were the 7th wave back. Between cannon blasts we made small talk and laughed about the array people, costumes, and choices of clothing attire around us. As we neared the start I kissed Sara and let her know I was glad to be here with her. All runners then filtered back behind the bikes to give them a wide berth for the crowded start.
Our cannon fired and the bikes left from the start. The runners waited 30 seconds and were released onto the course. I was first from the gate, then dropped to second after a moderate hill climb. As I topped the hill I saw something that my brain had trouble processing. My gosh! They are giving that runner CPR. My competitive drive left me in an instant. I looked over my left shoulder to ensure I would not cause a pile-up. I then slowed and crouched to the side of the course. I introduced myself as an ER nurse and offered to assist.
I kneeled down behind a lady who was giving chest compressions and told her I could relieve her when she got tired. She happened to be a Nurse and another participant, who happened to be a Dr., was holding c-spine and keeping the airway open. Sirens were in the air immediately and it was great to hear them getting closer. During their approach, I just sat there behind the nurse's left shoulder, reminding her of my presence.
I studied the unconscious man on his back to get a larger picture of what had happened. I was looking for some obvious reason to clue me into what had happened. He had a small abrasion on his face, where he must have made contact with the ground as he fell. His color was looking worse and his eyes were fixed on the rainy sky above. The lady giving compressions never let up.
I have worked many resuscitations in my line of work. As bad as they are, few of them stick with me through the years. They are generally performed in a controlled environment with patients whom I had never met or had preexisting medical conditions I had no control over. This situation was entirely new to me. I was out of my comfort zone and was attempting to participate in the resuscitation of one of my own (so to speak). I tried to push these thoughts aside and was relieved when the paramedics arrived.
They quickly took over and the patient was loaded into the back of the ambulance in a "load and go" fashion. A pulse was never regained. I hoped it would upon transport to the Hospital with the aid of resuscitative medications and an established airway.
I then fell back into the race with an adrenaline boost like never before. I ran and ran and ran. I was even passing folks on bicycles. I got to the first obstacle, found where Sara had laid our bike and started out of the transition area like a shot. I caught up to Sara, who like me was still deeply disturbed by what we had seen. She had backed off on the run a bit, because she knew what I was doing. She held together really well and pressed on through each of the stages.
The most fun obstacle was a large inflatable climbing wall with a steep slide on the other side. It left me with a thought of looking on e-bay to find one of my own to play on in the front yard. The last stage was the longest leg of the event, but at the end had a requirement that we both complete the last obstacle together. This required us to crawl on our bellies together through a 50 yard trough of soupy mud. The finish line was just beyond the end of the mud pit. We savored this last portion by doing the breast stroke and front crawl through the slop. I even did a front summersault to entertain the hundreds of spectators lining each side of the soupy mess. We stood up at the end and gave each other a muddy bear hug and walked across the finish line together.
We stood there in the pouring rain, watching people go through what we had just accomplished. Despite the intensity of the rain, the thick mud covering our body would not rinse away. We were still stunned by what we had accomplished together and what we had seen earlier in the race. It was brought to my thoughts again when I noticed a lady being consoled by the race director and the local police. It could only be regarding one thing. They were taking her to the hospital and judging by her state, the news was probably for the worse. Our hearts really went out to her. We ended up finishing 10th place out of about 100 teams in our category, but it just didn't matter too much.
I ended up doing some internet searching on Sunday night to learn of the fate of that fellow participant. I have not found any news either way. He has been on my mind since that rainy Saturday morning. It's definitely a sobering reminder of our finite time on Earth. It reinforces to me that the unknown is just that. Tell the people around you what they mean to you. Live life like you mean it. Life and the experience of it are definitely about the people and joy around you. Live it up!
