The month of August, for our family is extremely busy. Aside from the usual weddings, enagagement parties, and other vaious reasons we get together, most of which are made up holidays, we have several birthdays. The month kicks off with my Grandmother, then keeps on rolling with cousins, and then comes to a full stop for one person - my mother, Angela "Lina" Petruzzelli. Its odd that so many people want to celebrate her birthday, considering, she herself, won't tell you her age, or the exact date of her birthday. For example, I am not allowed to tell you how old she is, or what year she was born. At 35 years of age, I still have to fear a 5'1" Italian mother kicking my ass.
But, last week, my Mom had her birthday, and with her birthday on the 19th of August, and my race on the 17th of of August, I thought it would be nice to bring her home a win. I spent a lot of time thinking about the last time I raced around her birthday, and realized it had been 14 years since I had done so. As luck would have it, that race, in 1994, was the then "Mrs. T's" Triathlon in Chicago, still the World's biggest, and I was able to bring home the biggest prize, winning the amatuer division. It was a bitter sweet day, my Mom, wasn't able to come to the race, as she was bringing my Nonno home from the hospital, after being diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. At the time, I thought the race result would lift her spirits a bit, but, it was tough to do so. However, at Christmas that year, she presented me with a gift that I still have, although, I don't show it to many people - a framed picture of the cover of Inside Triathlon, with me, running down to the finish at Stetson and Wacker, in a flowered speedo, and purple half top. (Hey, in the early to mid 90's, all guys wore that). It let me know, it was a special day for her too.
So, 14 years later, I am in Indianapolis, warming up, and laughing, thinking of that day, and that picture, and my Mom, and how even as much as things change, they still stay the same. I did have a good race for her, I won my AG, and had a top 5 overall finish, unfortunately, due to a bogus "blocking penalty" that seems more fitting in soccer, I dropped a few places in the overall picture. But I was able to pad my lead in the Mideast Du Series, and it got me one step closer to repeating as Series Champ.
When I talked to my Mom, though, the pre-race pep talk still hasn't changed. My Mom has always been a big fan, especially when I started racing, but, as the family grew, and as I got older, my return to racing 4 years ago after a long lay off, wasn't a huge priority anymore. Unless the race is close, like 10 minutes from where my folks live, and there is coffee. Her talk though, still makes me laugh. Let me give you every Saturday night coversation before a race:
Me "Yeah, so I feel pretty good, looking forward to racing, its going to be hot, but I'm excited"
Mom -"Really? Its going to be warm, huh? Yeah, you don't like the heat. Don't you get sick in the heat? Guy, if you start to feel sick, or if it starts to hurt too much, just stop. Its not worth getting sick over all this. If you go to the hospital, how are we going to get there? You are miles away, better you just quit then land yourself in the emergency room."
Me - "Ok, Mom, well, I think I'll be ok, I mean, I am being careful."
Mom - "Yeah? That's what you said about the last race, and what happened? You threw up. You can't put your body through that, its no good. Listen to your mother, I know."
Me - "Ok, Mom, well, I better get to sleep. Talk to you after the race."
Mom - "Ok, well your father and I will probably be out at Caputo's and then we are going to Oakbrook, so call my cell, but if I don't pick up, we're probably busy."
This is pretty much, verbatim, every pre-race conversation, including Worlds in Hungary last year. Now, don't get me wrong, I know she means well, but, this isn't your typical, Knute Rockne, Vince Lombardi type speech, that makes you want to get out there and tear legs off. But, its my Mom, and I know, in her own way, she is telling me to go out and do my best. I know this, b/c I know how she got to this country. She came here as a little girl, from Italy through Canada, through, discrimination, language barriers, loss of family, to be here, and to be the one who everyone can't help but love, even when she's telling you something you don't want to hear. ANd why? Because in your heart you know its the truth. So, with her big brown eyes, glasses sliding down her nose, she gives you the look, the knowing look, that she's on to you, so don't get cute.
I know I give her a hard time, but, she has been there for me, good times or bad. She was there when I started "triathaloning" as she called it, and when she can, still comes out. But, its not the typical, "Go get 'em", "you can do it" support. Case in point - This winter, I did the Mideast Indoor Duathlon. Thankfully, it was in Orland Park, so it was close to home for my folks. My mom arrived, leather coat, fur collar, designer dress pants, and shoes, you know, your typical "I'm here to support my son/athlete" clothes. As I was warming up, she was saying how I didn't look well, and that was true, I was just coming off the flu and a sinus infection, and that maybe, I should sit this one out. Until she spotted the photographer from the local paper taking pictures of me warming up on the track. She casually walked over, and said,"You know, that's my son. He's very good. Let me see the pictures. Oh no, don't shoot him from that angle, it makes him look bad; or maybe you should do it THIS way, it looks better." Suddenly, the race was on, and my Mom was barking orders to a paid photographer who she doesn't know. But the photographer, was somehow drawn to my Mom, as most people are, and listened to her, and amazingly, stayed with her throughout the race.
As I finished the first run and bike, in the lead, I headed back to the track for my last run. I started, and amid the cheers of strangers, there was my Mom, making the "hurry up" motion with her arm, swinging it about. Basically, what she was trying to say was "Look, hurry up and get this over with. Your father and I need to get some breakfast, and I have things to do." Here I am, basically, breaking my ankles running around a track that takes 12 times around to make a mile, and according to her, I'm lolly-gagging. I'm at 5:20 pace, and I couldn't finish fast enough. I actually found myself speeding up, to the point of dizziness, b/c she kept doing that. People around her looked in amazement, as if to say, "What the hell else do you want him to do? He's going break-neck pace, running basically circles around a lamp post, and he's going too slow?" Shockingly, my Mom was not fazed.
When I finished, I leaned against the track wall, and slowly sat down, my Mom, giving me the "what's wrong with you" look, as I was trying to get my bearings. See, she was done and ready to go, as long as I had won, so she could tell the newspaper people, which she did right after I finished.
Most people in the sport see this as, well, a little "off", but, when you meet her, you find yourself, doing as all of my friends do, find her to be extremely funny, and charming, and very loving. Ask my coach, Jenny Garrison, or my friend Greg. Yeah, she isn't going to show up in the middle of no where Ohio to watch her son race, and yes, racing would be more convenient if it was on her schedule, but, when I get back to Chicago, I know she'll cook for me, and will be happy I am ok. But, unlike my Grandmother, a bib number for a present wasn't going to cut it. Trust me, she was happy with it, but, it looked a lot better with the new digital camera I bought her for her present. Suddenly, the bib number was great.
And why "Alien son?" Well, I am the only family member who does anything athletic, at least to the level I do, so, she doesn't know where it comes from. So, most days, she will refer to me, in public as her Alien Son. I've actually been introduced by her to strangers as that. Thing is, she may be on to something. She usually is. Love you Mom.
