I feel full, bursting even. I’m ready to give. Last night, I drove down to Redondo to listen to Chris McCormack recount what it’s like to be the champ he is - maybe the greatest triathlete ever, fresh off his second (remarkable) Kona win. There was a moment I was scanning the crowd, thinking about what people there were going to take for themselves, away from him and the night. I started thinking about what I was going to take away…
Macca is a true champ, made and then built and built. Off the course, he’s nothing but love, nothing but giving, nothing but heart. On it, when that gun fires, if you’re out there to take what he believes is rightfully his, he becomes something else…the kind of guy who would rip out your throat and then drag you to your children, make you watch as he force-fed it to them. Anything to win — because it’s what he sacrifices for, because it’s what he wakes up day after day to suffer and bleed for, because he knows that giving anything less than everything would be disrespectful to himself and the gift of a life. Because he is a true champ.
I am ready to race. I am full. I stole so much. Macca, you’re my hero. I’ll be chasing you forever, mate.
