The Man Who Smiled When Others Were Hurting
Yesterday, I did the UTCX race #4 out in the Corner Canyon area of Draper. It brought back memories of the Dark Ages of Utah Cyclocross, the mid to late 90′s, as this was one of the early venues when Utah CX just started to take off. I did the singlespeed class again, and felt much more in the race that last week in Heber; got the holeshot, then latched on to Jesse Gordon and another guy who came around me at the top of the road climb. My bike handling allowed me to stay with those 2 guys for most of the first lap, and I felt like I was racing again. The weather at the start was good, even though there was a storm threatening. The weather started moving in with 2 laps to go. Shortly after finishing my race, and while the Elites and Masters A groups were on the start line, the sky opened up with a torrent of cold rain and hail. As these 2 fields of the last racers of the day came up the hill on their first lap, riders were grimacing with pain from the pace and the weather. MY old friend T-Mac, Terry McGinnis, surely would have been smiling. I’m guessing that was right about the time of day that T-Mac passed away, and ended his long struggle with cancer. I heard the news later that night. Below are some photos I dug up from the archives of when T-Mac and I were team mates on the X-Men. We did a road trip to the Elko, Nevada, 4th of July criterium, listening to Van Halen the whole way in T-Mac’s Nissan Maxima. He got on the podium in the masters race, slugged a bottle of water and then jumped in the Pro/1/2 race, and helped me get in the winning break, all the while smiling when the others were grimacing.
T-Mac Terry McGinnis smiling with pain. Photo by Eric Schramm.
The harder the race was, the more T-Mac liked it. And he sure liked that Eddy Merckx. Photo by Eric Schramm.
T-Mac on the wheel of another Utah legend, Rich Vroom. T-Mac knew how to pick a wheel. Photo by Eric Schramm.
Brother, we are going to miss you. As hard as your struggle has been, you never stopped smiling through the pain. You made the bell lap, and it’s all downhill pedaling with a tailwind to the finish line. Zip up that jersey and get ready to raise your arms.
The Mighty T-Mac
X-Men from left to right: Dave Harward, Bill Harris, Thomas Cooke, Terry McGinnis, Evan Hepner
This photo was the last photo taken of The X-Men at the end of the 2003 racing season, and this is how I want to always remember Terry McGinnis, or T-Mac. We had a great season that year in Utah road racing. We captured the #1 and #2 overall titles in the Utah Crit Series, owing much to a small but cohesive team anchored by the boys in this photo. T-Mac was on his A-game all season long, Evan (aka College Boy) was starting to get his legs under him, and Dave Harward, who was riding for another team, pledged to join up with us for the next season, as we were to become the Canyon Elite Team. Life sure took some interesting turns after that. Bill moved to California, but Canyon Elite soldiered on. Dave Harward broke through to be one the strongest guys around, eventually winning a stage of the Tour of Utah. Evan went over to Belgium to take a crack at racing in Europe. And my enthusiasm for doing the same races over and over was waning. I was feeling like every weekend I raced I was missing a day of my daughter growing up. T-Mac on the other hand was having somewhat of a rebirth, and I don’t think I ever saw him as excited for racing as he was then, and he had results to show for it.
I always seem to get the dates wrong, as I look back on the past 10 or so years of racing bikes in Utah. We all won a lot of races, and less frequently, we had our share of races where nothing went right, but there were always a few of them to dish out slices of humble pie. I’ve met a lot of people, and formed friendships that went way beyond wearing the same colored jersey on race day. T-Mac is one of those friends.
I can’t remember the exact year, but I can recollect with a certain clarity the tone in T-Mac’s voice when he called me at work asking if I could catch up for lunch. I hadn’t been racing for awhile, and lost touch with my old team mates. When you see these guys 3 times a week and then again on weekends, you pretty much know what’s going on in each one’s life. When you stop racing, you lose that contact. We met for lunch, and T-Mac pretty much skipped all the small talk and just came out with it. I’ve got cancer. How bad is it? Pretty bad. How bad? Pretty bad. His doctor told him if there was anything he had always wanted to do with his kids, he should do it that summer.
But years went by and T-Mac managed. Managed to fight back to a point where I heard him say remission once or twice. He actually never said it, he called it the “R” word, and told me he didn’t like to actually say the word so as not to jinx it. Managed to get back on his bike and get in good enough shape where he was putting the hurt on me down in Moab this past spring at the Skinny Tire Fest. Managed to coach a whole bunch of Utah racers who only knew him as Coach T-Mac. For the last 2 years, he brought the Tour of Utah back into the spotlight as the Race Director, securing sponsors, attracting big name riders to compete in Utah, putting on a big show. He lived for it. And he was there this year in the Race Director’s car following the race that he worked so hard to build up, tweeting play-by-play action from his mobile device. That was just over a month and half ago.
I went with another friend and former team mate, Chris Humbert, to see T-Mac today at his home. His wife Cindy let us in the front door. It was quiet, save for the dog barking up a storm, but that didn’t wake the man up, and within minutes, the dog curled up on the floor at the foot of T-Mac’s hospice bed. He was in a deep sleep. He looked as small and frail as any man could possibly be, but with a peaceful look on his face, like a child sleeping. We brought a bottle of Chimay that we knew he couldn’t drink, and his wife left it at his bedside table. Said she would be sure to tell him later who brought it. We spoke with her for awhile, then left. I don’t know how long T-Mac has got left. The reality is setting in.
I look back to the photo above, and that’s how I always want to remember T-Mac.