5:46:30. Florida 70.3. A half-Ironman. 1.2 mile swim; 56 mile bike; 13.1 mile run.
I finished.
I had a bad day.
I’m a triathlete. Today begins my voyage to becoming an Ironman.
I completed my first triathlon on June 19th, 2003, in Crockett, California. There were 21 people entered and I came in 3rd place. To put that in perspective, Florida 70.3 had over 2000 people and I came in 790th. But the most important thing I took out of that first race was neither the number of people in it nor the place that I came in. It was the lesson we’ve all heard before. When you fall down, you pick yourself back up. Only this time you’re stronger. For me, it was literal. During the first mile of the bike portion, I took a downhill curve too fast, the road hadn’t been swept, and down I went. At approximately 35 miles per hour, I slid on gravel and pavement for what seemed like 20 seconds.
I didn’t know what to do. I was shocked. I looked up and down the right side of my body and noticed my elbow was badly cut, my hip had an abrasion with a diameter of 4 inches and my lower back hurt, but I couldn’t see why (later I would find out there was an abrasion there too). Everything hurt. I thought about quitting this sport of triathlon right then and there.
Then I looked at my bike. Aside from a slightly bent brake cover, it seemed fine. Actually, it looked great. So, for whatever reason, I climbed back on and kept going. I finished the bike strong and the run even stronger. I was officially hooked.
Fast forward 4 years, many sprint and international distance triathlons, and 3 half-Ironmans. Yesterday, during Florida 70.3, I raced terribly. For the first time ever, I walked during a triathlon. I received my worst time (by far) of any of the half-Ironmans I’ve done. My goal was to break 5 hours and earn a qualifying slot to Ironman Wisconsin, a full Ironman event held every September. I ended up not even staying for the awards ceremony. I didn’t even want the slot if it was available to me. I didn’t earn it. I had my worst race as a triathlete.
Yesterday, I fell down. Only this time it was figuratively.
I’ve done a lot of reflecting in the past 24-plus hours.
Why didn’t I do well? I went out too hard on the swim and bike.
What could I have done better? I could have trained more consistently.
What went wrong? My nutrition plan went awry in the Florida heat and humidity.
But these were the wrong questions. These were the wrong answers.
This morning I realized that the correct question was, “Why do I tri?” It’s a common question among triathletes. But my answer was an uncommon one:
“I forget.”
Somewhere along the way, between training and racing, I forgot why I started training and racing in the first place. Today, I’m trying to remember. I’m searching my head for the memories that stick out the most.
I think about how nervous I was standing in the water before my first half-Ironman.
I think about the elite athlete I saw at the Escape to Alcatraz Triathlon, who was actually blue from hyponatremia. He was in first place, with less than a mile left in the run, and he had to stop. If he kept going, he would have died.
I think about the excitement of winning my age group at the Multirace Sailwinds Park Triathlon.
I think about the adrenaline pumping during my first ocean swim, at the Pacific Coast Triathlon.
I think about the courageous triathlete I saw yesterday. The man with one leg. Against all odds, he finished Florida 70.3.
I think about all the other athletes I’ve met along the way. Most, if not all, of them I’ll never see again. But we all share a common bond.
I think about my wonderful parents. Without them, I wouldn’t even be able to dream about triathlon. I think about how excited I am to tell them about my accomplishments. They worry about me, but I know they’re proud.
I think about my beautiful fiancée, Michelle. The uber-marathoner. She’s reached the pinnacle of her sport, the Boston Marathon… twice. She is my heart and soul and the love of my life.
Lastly, I think back to that first triathlon. I wonder why I kept going, after that tumble. There was no glory that day. No one was watching. It was just me, the road, and my bike. But I was there. Yes, I had a few scrapes and cuts, but nothing too serious. I could keep going.
So why do I tri? Because I can.
Today, I’m picking myself back up.
6 Comments
TriDave
10/2/2007 06:09:52 am
Each Ironman North America event has several qualifying races, in addition to the normal registration process. Because registration was closed, the only way of getting into Wisconsin was to qualify at one of these races.
Reply
Curtis
10/2/2007 10:25:39 am
This is why I race --- it totally disregards the reason I originally started playing this game and speaks to the here and now.
Reply
Suswan
10/2/2007 10:48:13 pm
Your dedication and commitment is truly inspiring. Keep up the great work! GO DAVE!!!!!
Reply
Suswan
10/2/2007 10:48:22 pm
Your dedication and commitment is truly inspiring. Keep up the great work! GO DAVE!!!!!
Reply
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