Benny & Ray 48 Marathon Men Dee Gilles Rated G

The starting pistol went off at exactly 8:30 a.m. signaling the beginning of the Elmwood Kiwanis Triathlon and Ben Fraser dove into the water. To his right was his friend Hugh Braum, and to his left was John Ayers. The three of them hit the cold water of Lake Harold within seconds of one another.

Of the three of them, there was no question that John would rank highest. He was a five- year veteran of these things, constantly in training, and usually completed three or four triathlons per season. Hugh held his own, participating with at least two races per season. This was Ben's first race, and he was nervous. He did a hard crawl stroke, kicking hard, full of pent-up energy. He raced full-on. After a hundred yards, he tried to pull back a little; he knew he'd burn out before the end of the race at this pace. Ben slowed, and felt a few people nearby surge past him.

They had arrived at the hotel in Peoria last night at six o'clock, a little caravan of triathletes and their supporters; Sara came down with John, Ray drove Ben, and they had also connected with a few more folks from Chicago to make the three hour trip south of Chicago.

The large group of them had dinner at the Applebee's in town, and from the looks of the crowded restaurant, they were in good company. It was full of patrons in all manner of athletic wear, a couple he knew by name and a few more by sight. It was a good feeling. One of the things that appealed to Ben the most about participating in this triathlon was the sense of camaraderie he gained. It was one of the few times in his life where he felt part of a greater whole. Not even as an officer in the Yukon had he felt such esprit de corps. Ben was already looking forward to the South Shore Triathlon, which would take place in the city next month.

Ben pulled up out of the water and checked for distance to the other shore. He thought he made out Hugh's teal swim cap in front of him, but he wasn't sure. John was nowhere to be seen, no doubt had pulled far ahead. A few more bodies slipped past him. Determined not to finish dead last, even on his first time out, Ben surged resolutely forward. The swimming was the easy leg. The biggest challenge was to come. Ben had always been a fast runner, but struggled with endurance at a higher rate of speed.

Ben wondered if Ray would be at the finish line waiting for him. He had told him he didn't have to. He and the other participants left for the race early, to register and to get the lay of the land in addition to warming up. None of this was Ray's cup of tea; he was just happy to have Ray drive down with him. Ray was happy to stay in bed when Ben left the hotel room this morning.

Ben concentrated all his mental energy on swimming hard, long, measured strokes, being as efficient as possible. He paced himself, and tried to relax.

His mind fetched back to when he had first learned to enjoy swimming. That hadn't been until he had trained at the Depot in Ottawa. The waters of the Arctic Circle had been too cold for swimming recreationally. He knew how to survive in water, but up until that summer of swimming in the indoor pool, he had only viewed water as a source of fish and drinking and bathing water. He remembered how he's spend a couple of hours most weekend mornings perfecting his side stroke, butterfly, back stroke, and crawl stroke. He never seemed to be invited to the spontaneous soccer or basketball games that some of the trainees always seemed to organize. He kept to himself by default, and contented himself with pastimes he could do solo.

He was glad of that training now, reinforced by several months of training at the Y. He swam on with relative ease, comfortable with his pace.

Finally, Ben made it to the shoreline, already churning with people as they dispatched from the water.

Ben clambered out of the water, relieved to be done with the first leg. The butterflies in his stomach had not quite settled yet. Ben quickly transitioned for the bike ride, jogging over to the holding area. He peeled off his wet suit once he found his bike, stripping down to bike shorts. From the satchel tied to his bike, removed sneakers and short socks and hopped into them. Shirt next, then helmet. He tucked his wet suit into his bag. And he was off again in less than three minutes.

He saw Hugh just ahead of him as mounted his bike. His friend gave him the thumbs up and pushed off. Benny hit his bike too. The course started on gravel, and Ben spun off too hard, kicking up pebbles. "Sore-ey!" he called behind him to the people caught in his wake. The tires bit, and he was off. Ben moved all the way to his right, needing a few moments to get his bearings and settle into the ride. The course was on a beautiful country road, wooded and serene, and even in the midst of the competition, Ben could appreciate that. This part of America was so different that what he was used to, growing up in the far north and it was so different from the city. It was open prairie land, flat and broad, interspersed with stands of forest. Ben's thoughts flickered to what life must have been like for people in the pioneer days. What those first people saw, the beauty, the hostility of the unforgiving landscape.

Ben focused his sights on Hugh up ahead. Hugh was fast. And no less competitive than Ben. Keep him in sight, Benton, he told himself.

He pushed ahead with new energy, pedaling hard until his thighs burned. He glided towards his friend. Hugh allowed Ben to pull up beside him for a few seconds. Then he grinned, sweat already beading on his brow in the 80 degree heat, and said "Sayonara!" He pulled away with relative ease. Ben fell back again.

Ben glanced behind him. There were more people behind him than ahead of him, he thought with secret triumph. He smiled, wondering if Ray would be very shocked to know how competitive he was; he supposed it wasn't the very noblest part of himself, this desire to win at everything he did. The important thing was supposed to be to enjoy the spirit of the competition, the satisfaction of having finished the race, and the satisfaction of knowing that they had raised thousands of dollars for charity. It should have been enough, but it wasn't, Ben had to admit with some guilt.

The bike leg of the event raced by with blazing speed. Eleven and a half miles. He pushed on, fighting against a sudden strong headwind. He hadn't seen the back of Hugh in a while. His quads were cramping a little. Perhaps he should have taken John's advice and added more squats to his workout routine this summer.

A few people slipped ahead of him. Doggedly, he sped up, despite the discomfort in his quads.

Ben crouched over the front of the bike and dug in for the last few minutes. Willpower. That's all it amounted to. It was in him. He steeled himself, pretending he was on the heels of a fugitive he was tracking through the north woods. There. It was easy.

Shortly, the bike leg came to a conclusion. Ben removed his helmet and handed his equipment to a race volunteer. He grabbed a water cup proffered, took a couple of deep gulps, and tossed it aside. Ben was relieved to be off the bike. It felt good to run, to stretch a different set of leg muscles, to free his arms up.

The running portion was only two and a quarter miles. He was in the homestretch. The course had looped back around the lake, and partly ran through pasture. So pretty here. So serene. Maybe he could talk Ray into coming back here to camp. Ben listened to his breathing as he ran, concentrating on keeping it regular, even. He let his mind roam.

They had had a lot of fun together last night. After dinner, they retired to the hotel bar and watched the end of the White Sox game. Sox versus the Blue Jays. He, Ray, John and Hugh were joined by Sara, and several members of the U of C track team. Ben watched with an almost clinical fascination the dynamic between his husband and... his best friend, he supposed, was what Hugh was to him. Ray kept eyeing Hugh warily. Hugh stood his ground, looking Ray square in the eye. He wished they got along better, but the two of them had mutually agreed to take a battle stance. They had had dinner together a couple of times before and both times things got adversarial. Hugh admitted to Ben later that he thought Ray was a `nice guy, but not too bright and a bit of a guido'. This was after Ray told Hugh to his face that he was a `tree-hugging goody-two shoes.'

Ben had mused how Hugh and Ray were so different from one another. They were both good men. Ben liked Hugh tremendously, and respected him a great deal. He looked forward to their shared sociology classes for the pleasure of seeing Hugh more so than for the sake of learning. Hugh had a quick dry wit. He was compassionate and keenly observant. He was intellectual and thoughtful, calm, often dispassionate and introspective, classically handsome, and had a similar world-view to Ben's own; he only wanted to make the world a better place.

In fact, Hugh was planning a bit of a missionary trip to Ecuador over the Christmas break. He and his church group were going to some fairly remote areas, though not too far from Quito, to build three simple two room houses for the impoverished people there. It was very ambitious for a small group of people on a two-week trip. Hugh had asked Ben along, knowing that Ben had carpentry skills. Ben had agreed to go, but hadn't yet told Ray that he would not be home at Christmas.

In retrospect, Ben realized he should have told Ray before he agreed to go, but at the time when Hugh asked him, Ben had felt an overwhelming sense of obligation. Of course it was more important to help the unfortunate; more important than his or Ray's inconvenience of not spending Christmas together. Also, he had to admit that he jumped at the chance to go to South America. He and Hugh were planning on spending the first weekend of the New Year hiking and camping the countryside, after the houses had been completed. He had never been to the continent, but had read much about it. He had devoured volumes of reference books in the past three weeks as he read up on the region. He had even taught himself a few phrases in Spanish, though not strictly necessary; they would have an interpreter at all times, and Hugh spoke proficient Spanish as well.

He thought to tell Ray about the adventure on the drive down to Peoria, before Hugh brought it up in conversation at some point. But Ben had put it off. He knew it was going to lead to an argument, and he didn't want that distraction right before the big race.

Last night, watching the two men interact with one another, Ben realized that Ray was jealous of Hugh and Hugh of Ray. Part of him was flattered and amused by both of them, yet he also recognized that he had a problem on his hands.

Before they headed off to the short drive to the hotel after the baseball game ended, Ben excused himself to use the facilities. When he returned, Hugh and Ray were chest-to-chest. Ben pushed them apart by inserting himself between the two of them. Both of them refused to indicate what the confrontation was about, but it was easy enough for Ben to guess.

Ray had driven them back to the hotel in sulky silence.

Ray had been a little rough with him last night in bed. Ray hardly looked at him during their intercourse. He had turned Ben away from him, pulled them both to their knees and had grabbed a hold of Ben's hair like a pup being handled by the scruff. Ray had not been very attentive to Ben's pleasure. Ben's orgasm and been too mild and too brief.

Ben felt he was being punished for something.

Ben's thoughts returned to the here and now. Sweat stung his eyes, and Ben impatiently ran an arm over his forehead. His stomach began to knot. Contritely, Ben ran even harder, refusing to give into temptation to lag.

He sprinted, his eyes scanning the thinning crowd for his friend. He spotted him. Ben pulled up beside Hugh again. "Where you been?" Hugh asked, grinning, red-faced.

"Taking it easy, letting you win," Ben gasped back.

Hugh clapped Ben on the arm. "See you at the finish line!" He pulled away. Ben did his best, but could not catch up as Hugh raced ahead of him. His muscles were nearly out of fuel. He developed a stitch in his side which he tried his best to ignore.

Keep him in sight, Ben told himself again. Finish strong.

Ben realized he was repeating what his dad always said to him. Find someone to pace, and keep him in sight, he'd say. Finish steady. Finish strong. Bob Fraser had run a few marathons in his day. All throughout the seventies and eighties he ran. And he always placed well. The Yukon Cross Country. The Great Slave Lake Marathon. Even did the Boston Marathon in 1975 and the New York in 1979. Ben remembered the stories. Would always remember because everybody he knew constantly reminded him of the great Bob Fraser. As a result, he began to run cross country junior varsity.

He wondered if he would ever tire of competing with a ghost.

He remembered when he was a teenager and began to run with his dad. Bob had spent the fall and winter of Ben's senior year in high school in Port Radium, and had returned at spring thaw.

During the school year, Ben had put on another two inches in height, and when he saw his father, rolling into town again just a month before his graduation, they were of equal height. Ben realized that his father was just a man.

That realization changed their relationship for the better. Ben was far less intimidated. His father began to train him for his first marathon, the Great Bear. They ran together all that summer and fall before his father shipped out once again in the winter, this time to Whitehorse.

It was easy for father and son to run together. Easier than talking.

He could still hear in his head his father chastising him about keeping a pace, finishing strong. After his father shipped out, Ben quit running. He withdrew from the Great Bear. And he did not run again for twenty years.

Ben was forced to slow down a notch. The pain in his side was bad, and bent slightly. He grew frustrated with his body. Next time, he'd have to train harder. This was a short triathlon, and he shouldn't be having all this difficulty.

Next time, he thought. Next time, I'll be even better. Somewhere in there he could hear his father's voice, reminding him of his shortcomings. Always there to remind him that he wasn't perfect, but that he could be, if he just tried a little harder.

The last one hundreds yards seem to stretch to eternity. He wanted to stop. He wanted to stop now. But he couldn't. Just a little more. Ben slowed even more. Several people rushed past him, sprinting the last bit of the way. Ben finished among a patch of several, virtually all tying.

Ben scanned the waiting crowd for Ray, but he didn't see him. He was astonished at how disappointed he felt. Even though he said he didn't have to, Ben had hoped Ray would come.

However, Hugh, waiting for him in the sidelines, came up to him and slapped him on the shoulder, then they shared the briefest of embraces. "Good job, Ben. Nice show," he said.

"Not too shabby for a rookie," John Ayers called out to Ben from across the way. He looked calm and collected standing there with two friends, like he had finished hours ago and was immensely bored.

Ben bent over, hands on his knees. He gasped for air. Stopping felt so good.

"I wanted to finish in the top ten percent," Ben admitted to Hugh.

"You're being too hard on yourself," Hugh replied, patting the back of Ben's neck. "Many first-timers don't finish at all." Hugh's expression then changed from affection to slight annoyance, which he made an effort to suppress, but not before Ben registered it. "Hey," Hugh said. "Heads up. Here comes your guido boyfriend."

"Please don't call him that, Hugh. It's not very nice." Even as he spoke, he turned his head, eagerly searching for Ray.

"I'm just kiddin'," Hugh grumbled.

Said `guido' came running up to the men, big smile underneath his big nose. Ben thought he was the most handsome man in the world. Ben stepped forward into Ray's arms, weak in the knees for more than one reason.

"You did it, kid," Ray said, lightly squeezing. "You done good." He handed Ben the cup of Gatorade he held to one side.

"You saw me finish?"

"Course, I did!"

"Wish it was a better finish," he replied.

"You kiddin' me? Benny, you kicked ass. You should be proud of yourself."

Ben shrugged. He guzzled the cup of cold hydrating liquid.

"Benny, you just RAN A TRIATHLON!!"

"I know, Ray."

"Well, it's a big deal-- enjoy it!" Ray cried, his voice cracking on `enjoy' as his voice often did when he was worked up about something. Ray slung an arm around Ben. "Can you walk? Let me get you some more Gatorade." He led Ben over to the sidelines as more runners finished and began to crowd the area. "How do you feel? Are you hungry?"

"I'm fine, Ray. I just need a long cold shower and a gallon of ice milk." Ray retrieved another cup of Gatorade for Ben, and he took it, sipping slower this time.

Ben studied his lover over the top of the cup.

"What?" Ray asked.

Ben loved this about Ray. That Ray worried about him, wanted to take care of him. He'd never been made to feel that way as a child. That caring for him was a joy to be gladly undertaken, not a burden to be endured, an inconvenience.

Ben gave Ray a Gatorade-flavored kiss among the whir of human activity. He shook his head. "It's only that I love you," Ben replied.

Ray smiled. "Like I didn't know that," he said affectionately. "Now, let's get your stuff and go home."

Partial Results of the Elmwood Kiwanis Triathlon

Place Name Total Time 14 John Ayers 1:07:40.1 25 Hugh Braum 1:18:36.4 36 Benton Fraser 1:21:36.0

Finis