Finding Meaning for my Grief at Ironman

A little over a year ago I lost my younger brother, Luc, to suicide. The horrific nature of the event coupled with the devastation of his loss have lingered with me everyday since his passing. I loved him dearly and he was one of the most talented people I have ever known.

Luc and I were lifelong competitive swimmers and aspiring triathletes. He passed weeks before competing in his first Ironman 70.3 race. His race gear was purchased and his training was well underway. One of the hardest parts of his loss was the discovery of how close he was to competing in an experience I know he’d come to love. It is through triathlons, that I have found a deeper meaning to life and greater purpose. A gift I so dearly wish my brother had gotten as well.

We shared common demons too. But more importantly we shared an innate desire to push ourselves to physical and mental limits we didn’t believe possible through sports. We would always strive for milestones that seemed intangible, and train to the point of insanity in the hopes of achieving a type of glory through competition known to only a few athletes. Luc was determined, driven, and capable beyond belief.

This Sunday will be my first Ironman 70.3 triathlon race. I expect most of the 6+ hour race will be done with Luc’s spirit in my heart and mind, and endless tears running down my face. I feel I’m facing an impossible feat: finishing a grueling race, and doing it without him by my side. We talked for years about competing in a race like this, together.

I am not raising money on his behalf or racing for a cause. I am racing for him, my brother Luc, and the belief that we can find a greater purpose to the things that happen in our lives that shake our souls.

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