August 15th, a date to remember

August 15th is a Holy Day celebrated by Catholics as the day of Mary's Assumption into heaven, and on numerous occasions, I can remember my parents rounding us up to attend church, regardless of where we were. Certainly there are dates to remember, and of course, there are "dates" to forget. However, August 15th of '67 and 1999 remain quite vividly etched in my mind because they contain some of the most memorable moments of my own life, and both involved rather lengthy trips.

In 1967 my parents had decided it was time to see the country, so they researched tent trailers and introduced us to the world of camping. I remember going with my father and many times with the entire family to look at the tent trailers parked at Malloy's on Route 125 in Plaistow, NH. Their homework paid dividends later on though, as they took us across country, and we were as green at camping as the "Monstah" is in Fenway. However, we managed to find ourselves in Yellowstone park on August 15th in the summer of '67 where we attended the feast day mass. After that service, my sister said, "I'd like to work here some day", and by golly she did. In fact, she lived not too far from Tower which was the campground that we stayed in during that very first visit to the Park. In those days, the bears would wander in and out of the camp sites with regularity hoping to scavenge some left overs, perhaps some of our "Dinty Moore" beef stew. All that has changed now, and probably for the better too, as the bear population simply grew too friendly with their biped relatives. As for the rest of the trip, it was truly one for the ages.

As sure as August rolls around each year, so do those fond memories of 1967, Herkimer, Niagra Falls, Iowa, Yellowstone via the Bear Tooth pass, and the Grand Canyon, so what could possibly match that memorable trigger? In a word, "Ironman". In the fall of 1998, my very dear friend from residency called me, and said we needed tho do the Ironman in Lake Placid, New York. After a nano-second of consideration, I said, "Let's do it". The 6-8 months of preparation were rewarded with a long weekend in Lake Placid New York, site of the 1980 Winter Olympics and the Miracle on Ice.

The race was on Sunday the 15th, so we enjoyed the dual nature of Saturday evening's vigil mass. The priest, who evidently was accustomed to having "world class" athletes in his congregation, invited all the triathletes onto the altar for a blessing during the service. What a moving experience that was, the family in attendance, anticipation of the Ironman, and having the good Lord on our side. Wow! Who wouldn't remember that day? After mass, we enjoyed some carbohydrate loading at Mike's for spaghetti and meatballs. The following day, of course, was replete with emotion, commotion, and locomotion, but some 14 hours, 16 minutes, and 6 seconds after the starting gun sounded, I circled the Eric Heiden oval and joined the ranks of the elite. My friend and I had become Ironmen, along with some 1500 other triathletes. What a great day to share with family and friends.

So, when I think of August 15th, I fondly recall these 2 anniversaries, the first trip to Yellowstone and the Ironman in Lake Placid. Both were experiences of a lifetime and obviously, not to be forgotten. One was a trip about time with family and the other was a personal "trip" for time, but both were timeless in their overall contributions to my life. My only wish is that I could turn back time and do them both again!