Triathlon Journal

Twenty two years ago something horrible happened to me. And, I tell the story all the time. If you've heard it before from me, sorry.

I was living in Chicago with my twin brother Brian. At the time we were into fitness. My brother and I ran 5K and 10K races many weekends--which gave me a pretty impressive T-Shirt collection.

That summer (1988) I decided to take my fitness goals to a whole new level and run a triathlon. At the time Bud Light beer sponsored a series of these events across the county and I signed up for the event in Chicago.

For two months I trained--running three times a week, riding my bicycle, and swimming laps in the local pool. I was not on any specific training plan for triathlons, but I was in great shape.

The day of the race was during a serious heatwave. Even though the event was held in downtown Chicago near Lake Michigan, at 8:00 a.m., it was already 85 degrees, sun blazing, and the temperature was rising. While most participants seemed well prepared for the event, wearing the latest exercise gear and with new, expensive bicycles, I felt completely clueless. I was wearing an old T-shirt, well-traveled running shoes and cotton gym shorts. My bike was a beat up Schwinn Continental.

A quarter of a mile from the finish line that day I swooned. Not just passed out, I had a full-fledged heat stroke, which meant I was carted off in an ambulance and pumped up with IV fluids until I was well enough to go home. While in the ambulance I remember praying out loud, believing I had suffered a heart attack, "God, please let me live and I promise I'll NEVER do anything this stupid again."

Well I lived, and that was the end of my competitive running career. Never another road race, triathlon, nothing. After all, I had made a promise to God and I quit racing cold turkey.

Through the years I've been rethinking those rash words uttered in the ambulance. Perhaps since I was under the false assumption I had suffered a heart attack, maybe my God would forget the triathlon promise. Also, in a true lawyer fashion, I thought of a hundred loopholes to my promise. Loopholes like: what did I really mean when I said, "nothing this stupid again."? Running a triathlon when it's nearly 90+ degrees? Yeah that's pretty stupid. Or, how about running with the wrong gear? Yeah, that's pretty stupid, too. So, if the weather was better, and I was better prepared, there should be no problem with the man upstairs if I were to try triathlons again . . . .

Fast forward twenty-two years. My daughter Lonelli has been on a personal mission to re-invent herself this year. One of the key components in this transformation has been an impressive training program with the goal of running a triathlon in August in Chicago. Eerily, the dates, course and distances are almost identical to the race twenty-two years ago where my competitive running career screeched to a halt. This summer, as part of her tune up for Chicago, Lonelli has participated in a number of mini-triathlons, which are called Sprints. In a sprint, a contestant swims, bikes, and runs, but the distances are roughly half the distances of a regular triathlon.

Clarisa and I went with Lonelli to her first Sprint a few weeks ago. The course was in a beautiful state park fifty miles north of Detroit. The day was perfect for a race, slightly overcast (no blazing sun) and seventy-five degrees. The course had a few hills, but nothing too challenging. The swim was held in a small lake.

For her first time racing, Lonelli did exceptionally well. And we all enjoyed the atmosphere at the event, lots of upbeat, fitness-oriented people encouraging one another along with their families and supporters. I had forgotten how fun these competitions can be. That day Lonelli suggested I do one of these tune up events with her--and my mind began to work.

In the six months since I left American Laser Centers, I've been on my own personal re-invention program, for which weight loss and improved fitness have been key components. And, a Sprint triathlon was definitely within my abilities.

When the summer began, I replaced running on the treadmill with daily, morning lap swims at the Grosse Pointe City pool. And in three weeks of training I worked my way up to a distance that was farther than the swimming portion of a Sprint. So I knew I could do the swim--I did it every day! And, the run was no problem. I exceeded the Sprint running distance at least three times a week during my regular workouts.

But, despite my optimism, three nagging thoughts dampened my enthusiasm. First, my bike is an ancient Schwinn Continental with a heavy steel frame and a headlight attached to the front. I bought it a few years ago for ten dollars at a second-hand shop as a joke--it reminded me of my old racing bike in Chicago! It was really not suitable for a race. Second, while I was capable of completing the triathlon components one event at a time, I had not combined any two of the events during the same workout since that ill-fated day twenty-two years ago. I needed to step up my training. And third, of course, there was the little matter of my promise to God . . . .

Without taking too much time to reflect or agonize over my concerns, I ended up throwing caution to the wind and signed up for a Sprint distance triathlon held on Belle Isle, which is a Detroit city park in the middle of the Detroit River. I decided my bike would have to work; I'd do some additional training; and, God would definitely understand. After all, I was doing this to support Lonelli!

So yesterday, at 7:30 a.m., I found myself standing in the Detroit River ready to begin my first triathlon in more than two decades. This time my gear was better--I was wearing a nice-knee length speedo bathing suit, which looked like every other contestant's suit. Further, I knew my shoes, shorts and shirt also were appropriate for the race. But, that old bike . . . .

I knew the swim would be a challenge, not so much because of the distance, but because of the conditions. Unlike swimming laps in lanes in a pool, an open water swim is far more difficult. Imagine what it's like with more than 100 men flailing away all around you, kicking, grabbing and trying to find some clear space to swim. Further, besides the crush of bodies, I experienced an adreneline rush at the sound of the opening horn. Within 100 meters I found myself hyperventilating. I almost panicked and quit the race. Fortunately, I was able to say a prayer, focus on my strokes, and I calmed down.

In the end, the swim went fine. And I felt good leaving the water and trotting to the transition area where I put on some shorts, my shirt, sunglasses, shoes and socks and hopped on my bike. All day I joked that I had the worst bike in the competition--which, in actuality was a true statement! The course was two laps around the island, which I completed. Since I had not trained a lot for biking, my strategy was simply to stick with a decent pace and save my legs for the run. I got passed A LOT during the bike portion. But, it was a beautiful day and I really enjoyed the 20 kilometers, it just took me forever to finish!

I felt surprisingly strong for my 5 kilometer run. As the course progressed, rather than slowing down, I sped up--and I found myself passing lots of competitors, many who were younger than me. I even had a nice little kick at the end of the course and crossed the finish line feeling pretty good.

Amazingly, in my first completed triathlon, I finished fourth in my age group (men between the ages of 45 and 49). I was ecstatic. When the final results were posted, however, I found out I was fourth out of a group of six competitors, which was less impressive. However, my run was the fastest speed for any man over 45 by more than two minutes. My swim, while not among the fastest times, was middle-of-the pack. But, the bike. . . . The man who won my age group swam slightly faster than me, ran a lot slower than me, but finished the bike portion TWELVE MINUTES ahead of me. I finished dead last in the bike. I may have been the slowest male biker in the competition!

When I picked up my bike as we were getting ready to leave, a group of people came up to me and said, "We wanted to see who rode this bike."

"Why?" I asked. "This is the worst bike here."

"Yeah," said one in the group, "you rode a 'ton speed.'"

"I know," I responded. "Feel how heavy this puppy is." The young man was amazed a racing bike weighed so much.

The first person spoke again. "We wanted to tell you that this bike is a collector's item. Have you ever tried to sell it? We were concerned someone might try to grab this bike and we wanted to be sure the owner claimed it." That was funny. Thousand dollar bikes all around and they were concerned someone might take my second-hand Schwinn!

Now my mind is racing. If I improve by bike time by six or seven minutes I can win won of these competitions. I need to sign up for another event. If I sell the Schwinn, I can pay for a decent racer!

Is this a new obsession? We'll see.