83-year-old triathlete taught lessons in living
By JEFF KLINKENBERG© St. Petersburg Times, published September 5, 2000
Jim Ward, the world champion triathlete who passed away at age 83 on a Labor Day bike ride, was a wonderful friend -- not only to me but to countless triathletes all over the world.
He died five miles into a planned 30-mile ride while accompanied by friends on the Pinellas Trail.
"He had just passed me," said Millie Hamilton. "Suddenly he lost his balance and rode off the trail, struggled to get back on, and then just fell hard on his face. He didn't move. He didn't groan. It was like he was dead before he hit the ground."
Jim Ward was a boxer, football player, husband, father, soldier and diplomat before he entered his first triathlon at the age of 68. Ten years later, he was the oldest person ever to finish the Ironman Triathlon in Hawaii. He did the 2.4-mile swim, the 112-mile bike ride and the 26.2-mile run in less than 17 hours.
He suffered a stroke three years ago that paralyzed him briefly, but was in such good physical condition that he recovered quickly. A month after his release from the hospital, I accompanied him on a 6-mile run through Seminole Park. A couple of times that day I felt he was running slow for my benefit.
One of my great joys was going on a bike ride with him. We'd meet behind a liquor store near Tyrone Boulevard and do about 20 miles after breakfast. And as we pedalled, Jim talked the entire way.
He talked about his children, his grandchildren and the sport he loved. He talked about good nutrition, and the need to take vitamins, and the best way to work out, and the need to take a rest once in a while.
Last time we rode, he told me a story I'd never heard before, about his commando work behind enemy lines in Burma during World War II. Bad enough he'd been shot at, but one day as he stalked through the jungle, he suddenly felt in grave danger. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a tiger ready to pounce. It let him pass.
I always thought Jim had the heart of a tiger. And I never wanted to believe he'd die. He gave physically active middle-aged and elderly people hope. Not hope that we could be world triathlon champions like him -- but that we could choose to live our lives with joy.
He attended my 50th birthday celebration at a bar on the beach. Late in the evening, after the beer had been flowing for hours, Jim decided to dance. He was an enthusiastic dancer who liked to boogie.
Jim invaded the dance floor and grabbed the arm of a stranger who must have been six decades younger. He proceeded to dance her into the floor.
"I don't know what you're drinking," the lead singer of the band called down from the stage. "But I want some."
Jim was taken to Largo Medical Center after his apparent heart attack on Monday. After doctors did what they could for him, they allowed his friends in to say their good-byes.
Dead, Jim was lying on a cart. His feet poked out from under the sheet.
He was still wearing his cycling shoes.
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