(In avoidance of confusion, this is Scott, not Dru)

Thursday I gave the eulogy at my mother in law’s funeral. Last Christmas, she was diagnosed with a brain tumor, but responded well to radiation and chemo. On the Friday of my Ironman weekend, my MIL went to the ER with a fever caused by a perforation in her large intestine. On Friday, I asked my wife if she wanted me to come home. “I am not dong the training for this again and I am not paying for this again. Finish what you started. You add no medial value.” She was right. I had an amazing weekend and was with her on Monday night. My MIL got better, but never “well” and a sequence of infections and tumor related seizures left her in a state where she would not recover. She now resides with Love everlasting.

I am proud of my eulogy. It is from the heart and I wrote and rewrote it many times prior to the funeral. I struggled to get through reading it at the funeral, ultimately reading without looking at my family. Someone asked if I would share it (a nice compliment) so I’ll share it. I think it is a good testimony to a legacy of love.

Let me say it out loud. This sucks. When I was 13 my grandfather died after a battle with lung cancer. That night after we got the phone call from Louisville to Atlanta, I went to homecoming. Friends asked me if I was ok, I was fine. Paw Paw was a good man who raised my amazing father, but I did not know him that well. He lived in Louisville, I lived in Atlanta. For my children, November 29, 2015 sucked. They are not ok. Mary Pitman did not live in Louisville she lived here, in our lives, everyday and we loved it.

Rachel and I are very fortunate to have raised our children within 10 mile of my parents, as well as Mary. My children’s grandparents are integral pieces of their lives. We are so very lucky. Mary attended every event in the lives of my children, my family. We have been so very blessed. It is this blessing that makes today so much harder.

Each of you here celebrates one or more moments of joy and love as a direct result of Mary’s earthly journey. We celebrate hundreds. Some of you may not know Mary that well, but rather you are here to support Rachel or Ben, one of Mary’s amazing grandchildren or myself. If so, you are still celebrating Mary’s love as it has been shared generationally.

The first time I met Mary, Rachel and I had been dating a few months. As all of you know, Auburn University and Auburn football are recipients of Mary’s love. Rachel had invited me over to watch the National Championship Sugar Bowl between Alabama and Miami in January of 1993 with her family. I was raised on college basketball and knew little about the passions of Southern football. As we watched the game, I started cheering for Alabama. When Mary asked what I was doing, I told her simply that Miami was a suburb of New York and I was cheering for the true Southern team. Mary said, “we don’t cheer for Alabama in this house.” I replied, “I don’t cheer for Northern teams.” And, as it happens, the first day I met my future mother-in-law, she kicked me out of the house. Neither of us would give in.

As time passed, I ended up loving her Auburn, her daughter and her. When Rachel and I were planning our wedding, I again saw the depth and passion of her love. As the mother of the bride, Mary took her role seriously. She and Jon were happy to pay for their daughter’s wedding. When meeting with the reception facility, I started to argue price items. Mary told me simply, “I have worked and saved for this wedding. Shut up, you are not paying for it.” She loved her children completely and at all costs.

I share those stories create a view into Mary’s fierce love. She loved with a force of will that is unmatched. I share that trait and chose a woman with that trait. Together, we are raising three girls who share that trait. Mary’s love was directed in a spotlight fashion and, I have to admit, I loved how that spotlight was directed at my children. I celebrate that love for my family and I cry to see that light extinguished.

I am at a loss. I am at a loss to comfort the ones I love who have lost a friend, a sister, a daughter, a grandmother, and hardest of all, a mom. My God has taken Mary into his embrace and welcomed her home. My God is the father of infinite love. My God can direct that same spotlight love on each of us, all at once. If one of my children does not recognize me on the street, I will embrace them anyway, there on the street. My love is not shy and my love is but thimble of God’s love. No earthly sin will ever exceed the love of the Father. God has wrapped Mary in his love and will grant her peace.

On the Sunday that followed Mary’s passing, a friend of mine who also lost her mom shared with me some heartfelt advice I want to share with Rachel, Ben, Savannah, Sydney, Sabrina, Karen, Nancy and others.

Now is the grief that you’ve prepared for. Now is when you’re ready for it. The holidays are never the same, but you anticipate the different. You steel yourself against it. You have people to help you through it.

Later is strange. Later comes the moment when a random recipe in a magazine causes you to want to pick up the phone to call her mom. Later is when something unexpectedly awful or awesome happens and the one person you want to share it with is the one person you can’t. Later are the thousands of moments that take your breath because you’re not ready. The unexpected is the hardest.

For each of these people, make sure you’re there for them in later. You’ll never know how much they’ll need it. When they get mad, because how can you possibly understand? You don’t “get it”. That’s ok. Love them with the fierceness Mary would have loved them.

I have to let my wife feel all the feels she needs to feel and comfort her through them. This time sucks. My heart hurts for my entire family. I know that the miracle was getting even one moment with Mary? I get it. I know. I am selfish. I wanted so much more for me. For my children. For Ben and my wife

In the end, our earthly life everlasting is the imprint we leave on the world. The moments of longing and loss are holes that Mary once filled with love and joy. Each tear is a celebration of a special moment that you shared. Today more than ever, we remember, It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

Thank you, Mary for your amazing daughter. Thank you for loving me. I love and miss you. Amen and War Eagle.

Why did I do an Ironman? 13 months ago, after my brother Dru did his first Sprint triathalon said he wanted to do an Ironman.  “Ok” I responded.  “You don’t have to do this,” he said.  He was right. I didn’t have to do it, I wanted to.  Maybe there was a little competitiveness with my older brother, but I told him, “I won’t finish before you, but I will finish on the same day.”  We are close in age, but were not so close for a number of years.

In 2008, I quit smoking and started wogging (just enough jogging to avoid calling it a walk).  One year later, my cousins convinced me to sign up for the Kentucky Derby Half Marathon. I had never run a mile.  One year of training later, I cried at the finish line of a half marathon.  My cousin Dorothy and I decided to try a marathon.  Seven months later, we completed the Outer Banks Marathon together.  My mom and dad were there at the finish.  I cried again.  One or two marathons per year satisfied my fitness needs.  Not too fast, not too slow.

Dru did athletic things when we were younger and had the natural ability.  In his teens and twenties he rode.  This past year, in training, we saw that he is a damn good cyclist.  However, his thirties were no kinder to his middle than mine.  I’d like to think my journey inspired him to start running.  And just as he was getting up to a couple of miles, I called one morning with a free entry to a 10K the next day.  “ok,” he responded.  “You don’t have to do this, ” I told him.  “I know.  Pick me up at 6AM?”  The photo of us running that 10K together will still be up in my house when I am very old.  That day, we decided to run a marathon together.  Disney marathon sounded like a good idea.

In November 2012, we ran Rock and Roll Savannah full.  Ed, Dru and I went down together in Ed’s 40′ RV.  All three brothers together was amazing, we have to do it more.  The day before the marathon Dru reminded me that he had done 100 mile bike rides, the marathon would not be so bad.  We ran side by side until mile 18.  He was hurting, but we were ahead of the 5 hour pacer.  When the pacer passed us, I got antsy.  “Go.  I’ll be right behind you”  Dru admonished.  I went.  Dru finished nearly an hour behind me.  I did not like that feeling.  Dru did not want to marathon again.  I left him behind to serve my own goals.

2 months later, Disney was worse and, in every way, better.   I had run the half marathon the prior day for my “personal” race.   We were running 26.2 together.  For the fun. For the pictures.  All of it.  Our families, including Mom, Dad and Ed were all down for this trip.   Dru tweaked his ankle at Mile 10 of Disney.   In pain, the last thing Dru needed was his little brother bouncing like  a chihuahua panting, “How you feeling? Need anything? Wanna run? Wanna walk? Wanna put a foot in your brother’s teeth?” for the next few hours.  Instead of staying by his side, I talked to everyone within half a mile of Dru.  I asked them why they were running.  I was inspired by their stories.  I coached spectators.  They were happy when I moved on.  I serenaded fellow runners. We stopped for every photo together.  I ran the bases in Wide World of Sports.  I rode Everest with my brother in the middle of a marathon.  We hugged our family in the street.  We had the time of our lives.  Dru swore off marathons.  He lied.  We did Savannah in 2013 and 20  14.

So in Summer 2014, Dru’s friend Dave gets Dru out for a Tri.  A little sprint Tri in July.  Dru decided to do an Ironman.  I mean, why not?  How hard can it be?  Queue the prior conversation…  Apparently, if we volunteer for IMChatt in 2014, then we get dibs for entering 2015.  At 6 AM after a day of helping runners at mile 13 of the run that looked like they wanted to die, we stood in line for 364 days of anticipation.  A couple of questions I asked during tis line included, “So, how far will we race?” and “it costs how much?”.

12 months later, I became an Ironman. 144.6 miles sounds like a lot of steps, but for me , it was just one of many

Due to inclement weather, the Sunday Ride has been cancelled. Looking at the radar, it would be right into the teeth of a nasty thunderstorm, with a few more behind it. Better safe than sorry this close to race day.

Not posting. The article I had written for today just isn’t ready, and I won’t have time to finish it until tonight at the earliest. Instead, I did a little bit of clean up and details in the weekly rides section, if you are bored and want to look at that. Shouldn’t you be out working out anyways?

On a tangent, I have decided that unless something changes, I am not going to go back to a standard fluid trainer this winter. I am leaning towards a set of rollers instead.

The current plan is a TACX Antares ( or if I am feeling particularly flush that day, the Galaxia which I really want, but I’m not sure I want it $100 more than the Antares ). Comments and opinions are welcomed!

Well, I suppose it is not a traditional way to roll, but last weekend the family and I needed a break. So we ran up the road to Charlotte, NC and spent the weekend riding roller coasters and water slides. It was a good way to spend the weekend, but it certainly put a crimp in the training schedule. 26 miles of walking over 2 days though. I’m login to call it a wash and move on. Back to the grind this week.

Advocacy is hard. More often than not, we end up selling bicycling to other cyclists, rather than getting the word out to the people outside the community. It is always a question of how to you cross the gap to the people outside the community. Sometimes we do need to address the community too though.

Last week, I spent the week in Salt Lake City Utah. It was an interesting work week. The city itself has an amazing amount of bike infrastructure in downtown. Bike lanes everywhere, green lanes, signage, racks and facilities on the light rail and buses to enable bike transport. It was amazing to see, and yet… Fully half of the cyclists I saw in the city were riding on the sidewalk. Sitting at a red light next to one, I finally asked why. The response was ‘it is safer’.

This boggles the mind, and has been fairly well documented that it really isn’t safer to be on the sidewalk, but perception, even in the cycling community persists. If we haven’t reached them, how can we reach and teach drivers? Can we?