I’ve been thinking recently about why I’ve started down this crazy, tiring, soreness-inducing, expensive path that is working toward my first triathlon. And why I’ve stuck with it.
I’ve come up with a few reasons that I think are in the mix. I don’t know yet what value to ascribe to each, only that all of these ideas help explain what some might generously call my thought process.
- Health. I’m diabetic. Type II, diagnosed a number of years ago. Exercise is, for diabetics, the silver bullet. It’s just all-around good for us. My A1C is back in the pre-diabetic range. So definitely I’m in this for the health benefits. But that doesn’t explain triathlon. It explains running. So in 1992 I bought a bicycle (yes, my ’92 Schwinn CrossCut, that I’m still using). I was in law school, and I wanted to travel around the city I was in, so I bought a bike. Then came winter, and the bike went into the basement. Then came an Indian Summer. So I lugged the bike out, shook off two months of dust, and rode. I was so winded it turned into a really short ride. I thought that I should have some way of staying in shape during the “off” season: I started running. Easier to run in cold weather than ride. And I ended up loving running even more than biking. And when I moved to NYC, in 1994, I knew exactly 1 person. So, in order to meet people, I joined the New York Road Runners club, and went on group runs. Then work got a hold, and I didn’t really keep up with running. I ran 4 miles regularly, and twice, I ran 6 miles. But several times over the last 20 years, I started running again. Picked it up and put it down, each time. So if it were just about health, I would probably just be running.
- Time with the Kids. The basic idea of triathlon, for me, started because my 14-year-old loves her bicycle. And she’s at an age when simply spending lots of time with her father pays disproportionate benefits for her. And for me. I miss her being 4 years old. So I started bicycling with her. My next child, a 13-year-old girl, has a friend who runs. She went running with her friend once, and only got about 50 feet. So she comes to me and says that she knows I want to exercise more, which means going running (at least partially to get into bicycling shape for my oldest), and could she run with me. So we start a “couch to 5K” app on our phones, and start doing 1:30 run/3:00 walk. So I was bicycling with one daughter and running with another. I said to myself, “why not find a pool and do a triathlon?” It also helps that I had someone who paved the way for me. My college roommate and someone with whom I was best friends for a long time (we never see each other anymore, so he’s in some nether-category at this point), does triathlons. So having someone I know doing it makes it more do-able somehow. Anyway, so my next child, an 11-year-old boy, says that he wants to swim with me. So we swim together. I love, absolutely love, the time I spend with my kids on this. It makes me worried for the next child (I have two more) and what I’m going to make their special activity. But in the meantime, I get a lot of one-on-one time with my eldest three. And don’t believe the hype. Any parent can tell you that “quality time” is a myth. It’s all about “quantity time.” I’m not saying that you don’t need to be present, and that being present for a short time is better than being on your phone in front of your child for a long time. But a lot of your relationship is just about putting the hours in. Some hours are more meaningful than others, but you have to be around, even if you’re not talking.
- Being able to say I’m training for a triathlon. I have a feeling that any newbie who tells you that this isn’t a reason for them is likely lying to you. Or maybe I’m just projecting. But I love it. I love that it’s a conversation starter. I love that people are noticing that I’m slimming down. I love that I feel better walking up stairs. I love that people say “oh wow, I could never do that.” I love all of it. Maybe it’s petty, maybe I’m being small, maybe schadenfreude isn’t a positive quality, but there it is.
- Social Media. This isn’t a reason why I got in, but it’s definitely a reason why I’m staying in. I love that there are so many triathletes out there, and that we (can I use the “we” before my first one?) have such a disproportionate social media presence. And not just the normal people. Pros. And they engage! Seriously, I’ve had a number of Twitter interactions with people who have no business speaking with, much less giving encouragement to, people like me. I’m talking about Gwen Jorgensen (@gwenjorgensen). She’s an OLYMPIAN, for Pete’s sake. And she’s so nice. And normal. As are Non Stanford (@nonstanford) and Vicky Holland (@vixholland). They’ve all replied, responded, favorited, and generally been nice. Same with long-distance triathletes. Sarah Piampiano, who recently took 7th—7th!—at Kona—Kona!—replied to my tweets, and even made me feel good about what must be, to her, ridiculously humdrum milestones. Running 4 whole miles. This is someone who ran a marathon after 2.4 miles swimming and 112 miles biking, and did it so fast only 6 women in the world could do it faster. And I run 4 miles and she tells me to keep it up. I love these people. Not Andy Potts, though. He hasn’t said one damn word to me. (kidding, @andy_potts…but not really. Isn’t it time you said hi?) Can you imagine professionals of other sports doing that? Do you imagine the same level of interaction with my Boston Red Sox, if I were playing AAA ball and wanted encouragement? I don’t think so.
- Mid-life Crisis. I was thinking about this one recently. Is triathlon my mid-life crisis? If so, damn, I’ve sublimated that conflict like a pro! I’m 46. I have a mortgage, private school tuition (make that, “tuitions.” Definitely, most certainly plural). I’ve been married almost 17 years. I think, traditionally, this is when men start having mid-life crises. I don’t think I’m having one, but maybe that’s just denial. What I know is that triathlon is life-affirming, and I get to buy expensive toys (or at least, have #gearenvy about expensive toys). I love looking at $10,000 bicycles, even though, in my heart of hearts, I know that if I had one, I wouldn’t know what to do with it. I’ve spent, just on really, really basic stuff, several hundred dollars already. And this is just beginning training. I haven’t hired a coach (damn, they’re expensive), or bought a “real” bike. Clip-in pedals, two bike trainers (one for me, one for my daughter), new shoes for the clip-ins (love my Bont Riot tri-shoes. Love ’em!), a Garmin 910xt, some other minor stuff. It adds up. A bike? Another, what, $2,500 if I want to do it right? I suppose it’s better than buying a sports car, or generally acting like a 20-year-old. I heard once that there’s nothing sadder than someone at 40 acting like they’re 20, because when they were 20, they acted like they were 40. When I was 20, I acted that way. I’ve always acted my age. Up to now. Going from basically no physical fitness to a triathlon (even if my ultimate stretch goal is not an Ironman, but probably a 70.3, sometime in 2017), the peak of fitness, is not something that a normal 46 year-old would contemplate, much less attempt. So maybe I am trying to prove my virility.
But what I’ve found is that despite whatever mix of reasons got me into this, or is keeping me in, I find that I love being out on a run, and feeling that feeling of I-can-do-this-forever. The I-don’t-have-to-stop feeling that gets farther and farther out. I love seeing progress. And one advantage of coming from nowhere is that my progress, so far, has been in leaps and bounds. I’ve swum farther without stopping than I thought I could. I’ve run farther and faster. I’ve run a 5K (with my running daughter, on her birthday…what a huge point-winning father moment!). And I’ve spent a ton of time with my first-born daughter. Hours. Just us. I can absolutely see how much that’s done for our relationship.
All this before I even line up for my first Sprint.
Sore Before Sunrise 