Michael Levin
Vibrant Life
As I look at the front tire on my racing bike, I discover that my twin 3-year-old sons have removed the bolt and spring that holds the wheel in place. In other words, I've trained for months, packed all my gear into my car, gotten up at 4:45 a.m. so that I could be here by 5:45, and it looks like I'm not going anywhere.
But the real question is: What's a slow, slightly overweight 46-year-old doing entering the Carlsbad (California) Triathlon?
When most people think of triathlons—events that combine swimming, bicycling, and running—they imagine Ironman contests of strength and endurance that originated in Hawaii and now take place all over the world. In an Ironman triathlon you swim 2.4 miles, bicycle 112 miles and then run a full 26.2-mile marathon.
Yet many may not be aware that shorter-distance triathlons take place throughout the year in many parts of the world. The shortest triathlons are called "sprint-distance triathlons" and cover about a quarter of the ground of their much larger cousins. Typically, such events involve an ocean, lake, or river swim of a half mile; a bicycle ride of 15 to 20 miles; followed by a run of three to four miles.
A triathlon actually consists of five events—the swim, T1 (transition from swimwear to bike gear), the bicycle component of the race, T2 (transition from hiking to running), and the run. Books, websites, and magazines are devoted to showing the novice triathlete how to prepare for each of the three athletic portions of the race and for the transitions as well.
The Possible Dream
When I started triathlons, I had just turned 44. My wife and I had gotten married three years earlier and had subsequently produced a honeymoon baby girl and twin boys. As I do now, I owned my own business, a ghostwriting and coaching service. This meant that my time was my own so I could schedule my race training around my family and work responsibilities.
I mention family and work because I want to make a point. It's possible—no matter how busy your life—to train for and compete in triathlons. This is true even if you're starting at a relatively advanced age as I did. You don't have to be Olympics-bound either.
I've got more body fat on me than any 20 other triathletes. I'm also speed-challenged and tend to finish way in the back of the pack. But that's not the point. The simple fact is that I found it possible to train for, enter, and complete triathlons—and a couple marathons along the way—despite the fact that at first glance (and second and third), I don't have the time or body for that type of racing.
Triathlon Training
If you can find an hour a day for exercise, you've got all the time you need to prepare for a triathlon. The simplest schedule, recommended by many triathlon experts, is to alternate your training: Run, bike, swim, run, bike, swim, then rest on the seventh day.
They say that the hardest thing for a triathlete to do is take a day off because with three sports to master, you feel like you should always be out there doing something. But giving your body some downtime is absolutely essential.
Much of competing in a triathlon has to do with conservation of strength. When swimming, you need to know the most efficient ways to pull yourself through the water with your arms so you can save your legs for the hiking and running. On your bike, you need to know how to pull up with your legs instead of pumping down so you can save your running muscles for the run. It's quite exciting to get coached and learn the latest techniques in each of the three sports.
Another important triathlon technique is called "bricking," which means combining one or more activities in a single workout. You hit the pool, get in your laps, then jump on your bike. Or you start off your exercise session hiking, then transition to running; either outdoors—if weather permits—or on the treadmill. Bricking gives your body a chance to get used to the physical transitions you'll make on race day.
The transitions themselves require preparation. First, you've got to have gear—goggles and wet suit (depending on your climate) for the swim; bicycle, bike shoes, helmet and sunglasses for the bike portion of the race; running shoes for the run.
Race Day
The weeks quickly tick by, and the big day approaches. So here I am in Carlsbad, primed for a new triathlon challenge. That's when I notice the missing part of my bicycle. Am I finished before I begin?
The answer is no. A mobile bike repair business, "Wheels on Wheels," has set up shop at the race site. Its owner, Dan, sees my plight, takes pity on me, and loans me the part I'm missing. He doesn't ask for a deposit or my driver's license or anything. He just hands me the part and tells me it would be great if I returned it when I'm done since it costs $30.
My Day is Saved
Dan's thoughtfulness typifies the triathlon community. It's a bunch of people who love the thrill of the race, the challenge of the multi-sport experience, and the camaraderie of likeminded, fit individuals.
It's inspiring for me to be a part of the whole thing. I'm thrilled by the sight of the incredibly fast 20-year-olds who are sprinting into the end of the run course even as I'm getting out of the water. I'm also excited to see individuals in their 60s, 70s, and even 80s lining up for the three-part event.
On Course
The horn sounds. You run down the beach to the ocean, dive into the waves, heart pounding. You round the first buoy, then the second, the third, fourth, and fifth. Suddenly you're headed for the shore. You run up the beach, strip out of your wet suit at the transition area, climb into your hiking gear, and hit the trail. Fifteen miles later, you head back to the transition area, dismount, take a swig of water or sports drink, slip into your running shoes, and start the run. Three miles later you see the sweetest word in the triathlete's vocabulary: FINISH.
Is it too much of a stretch, too corny, to say that life is a triathlon? After all, both are about body, mind and spirit. Neglect one and the others suffer. In life, as in triathlons, the race isn't always to the swiftest. It's to those who pray for balance, who show up prepared, who want to enjoy themselves, and who accept the grace that awaits us if we seek it, typified by Dan the bicycle man's open-handed kindness.
The race is on, whether we know it or not. Success is showing up and making a committed run as we move through life's events and transitions. At the end of the race comes the reward: a voice saying, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."