Bump It Up (And Out of the Socket)!

You might be wondering why Pam Carlucci and I are strutting around with big muscular quads, chiseled calves, a new kill-or-be-killed attitude and are humming Desert Rose by Sting. We've been taking spinning classes for several months at Courtside Racquet & Fitness Center here in Ithaca, and we have a take-no-prisoners instructor named Christine who puts us through some really tough workouts. She also has a fondness for Sting and Dave Matthews Band music.

And no, to clarify questions I've been asked regarding spinning: We are not spinning yarn; we're spinning 90 rpms on a bike.

Which brings me to Tom, the man who owns Courtside. He told Christine he'd pay the entry fee of a team who competed with the Courtside name at the Tri for the Y Triathlon in Ithaca. I raised my hand immediately. "We'll do it!" I shouted at Christine. "Sign us up." Now, Tom doesn't know us from Lance Armstrong, but he paid the $60 so Sue Aigen, Pam and I could be a team.

We called ourselves the "Courtside Bump It Ups," to honor Christine's favorite directive, and I assigned sports according to skill level (translated: Sue swims). Sue, who has a year-round membership at Courtside and prefers not to spin, would swim the 400 yards in a pool; Pam would bike the 15+ miles and I would run the 4.7 miles.

Spinner Christine, the cyclist, also put an all-female team together with a really good swimmer with two good arms, and with "Big Corey," another one of our spinning tribe who volunteered to run against me. It would be us-against-them. Let the trash talking begin.

Footnote -- Two things I learned in spinning class:

1. People who do not run, do not wear sports bras without major cover-ups. Pam and I were the only two in class that arrived every day a la Brandi Chastain. Everyone else wore cycling jerseys or Britney Spears workout clothes. Even the men.

2. People who do not run (or engage in professional wrestling) have not learned the art of trash talking. Try as I did, I couldn't get Christine to bite. I trashed talked their team every class: "Hope you don't run over a nail; hope no one puts a stick in your spokes; 4.7 miles is a long way to run when you're not a runner; I'll bring a camera and take your photo as you go up and claim 2nd place..." Yada, yada, yada. I didn't make anyone cry (the mark of a master, which I've done in the past), but Christine and Big Corey just gave me blank stares or giggled.

"Stop it!" Pam warned me. "Something bad will happen."

Race day came and it was a bit chilly at 7 a.m. We had fudged our swim time so Sue could go in the early heats. We discovered lots of runners trying the Tri. Tim Ingall was competing on a mountain bike (he did great); Yvette was tuning up for Ironman (she won); and Rick Cleary was the runner on a team which included his wife Ann -- a very good swimmer! Rick and I mused how next time we could just tread water for 15 minutes, and get swimming credit in this Triathlon.

An important rule to remember: You can't get DQed in this race for not finishing the swim. You just get a 15 minute maximum credit. So you can do just about anything in the pool except take a bath, and still be in the hunt (well, maybe not exactly "the" hunt).

Enter Jim Miner, the Trainer of Champions. He was on his way to the Bugliosi run-through, but stopped by the Y to give us support. In Jim's life, he has run marathons with all three of us and lived to tell the story.

Sue was in the first heat, and we all filed into the pool area to root her on. Somebody yelled go, and Sue was cooking -- maybe even first or second place. Then she stopped at the far end of the pool, looked our way and seemed to be signaling to us. "Sue is yelling for help," said Pam. Help? How can this be? Help?

We ran to the end of the pool, and Sue looked up with mournful eyes and said, "My shoulder is out of its socket." We couldn't believe what we were hearing. A dislocated shoulder by swimming? (Sue thinks she touched off the wall too hard on the turnarounds.)

Wincing, Sue asked us to put it back in, and Pam (the nurse) was the best bet to do it. We dragged Sue out of the pool with one arm, and she looked like a sweet, but sorrowful dolphin being dragged on deck of a ship.

Sue was in a lot of pain, the hanging arm was all convoluted, and Pam was trying to pop the shoulder back in. But no pop. Everyone else was still swimming, and I was trying to get some Y official to get an EMT, but they ignored us, thinking Sue was having a stomach cramp. Pam finally popped it in -- at least Sue thought it was in, and before we could tell Sue to give it up, she jumped back into the water in her lane and started swimming with one arm. She wouldn't quit!

Pam ran out the door to get by her bike for the tag off, and told me to order Sue to stop and take the 15 minutes. I ran around to the end of the pool, knelt down, and was yelling, "Stop! You won't be DQed!" Sue kept swimming with one arm, and someone got on a loudspeaker and addressed me, "Do not coach your teammates from the end of the pool!"

Once again I tried to get an EMT, but was ignored. Meanwhile, Sue finished all the laps and was dragging herself out of the pool with one arm, and was heading out the door to tag Pam for the next leg. I was running behind Sue, and she was tilted to one side, shivering and soaking wet, barefoot and running a crooked path to tag Pam. Sort of like Quasimodo in a bathing suit. Finally, two EMTs arrived to help, I was pulling on Sue's bad arm, and Sue's shoulder was hanging crooked again. All the while she was biting the bullet.

The EMTs first wanted to take Sue away by ambulance, but Sue said no. Then they took her inside the Y, and rounded up a very nice triathlete in the race who also happened to be an orthopedic specialist at Ithaca College. He came in, and quietly and calmly talked with Sue. Jim and I left the room so the doctor could relocate the shoulder. He did, and he was just wonderful.

Instead of leaving for the trail run-through, Jim stayed with us the entire time. Still in wet clothes, Sue eventually was released with her arm and shoulder wrapped tightly to her arm, and ice bags on top. Sue wouldn't leave us either. We waited for Pam to finish her ride, then I took off for the 3rd leg. All three waited for me. When I was finally done, Sue got a sling and asked us to help her put it on.

But not before pictures! Christine & Big Corey & Co. were doing very well against us, and we wanted photographs of the whole drama. We all lined up, snuggled close together, and Jim aimed the camera for the big group shot.

"Step back a little, so we can get everyone in the picture," someone said. We did, and Sue toppled backwards -- ass over tea kettle -- over a tent bag Christine's kids were using. I tried to break Sue's fall, but it was too late. She was down for the count. Could things get worse? Pam and I looked at each other, and couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry.

Once again, we dragged Sue to her feet with one arm, and marched her into the Y so we could put on the sling and send her on her way.

The one-armed bandit was finally ready to go home, where she was greeted by her incredulous husband and sons. This happened while swimming? Are you kidding?

Post script: Sue, the ultimate survivor, is doing much better. She can run and hike for now -- but no marathoning or swimming or weight lifting. Six weeks of healing, physical therapy and stretchy bands, and she should be like new.

A knock, knock joke heard by Sue: Knock, knock. Who's there? "Hello Grace!" "What are you talking about?" "Well, you fell, didn't you?"

Christine, Big Corey & Company won the all-female team division. Not us. But we did get a towel in our goodie bags the size of a piece of toiler paper.

Jim stayed after all three of us left, and ran with another woman in the triathlon's final leg.

But, in the end, the Courtside Bump It Ups were No. 1 in the Special Olympic division. Make that masters.

-- Diane Sherrer