The biggest question I think I had for myself in putting
this together was “How the hell did I get here?” A good question, and kind of a
comical answer.
I rode mountain bikes a little bit in high school and
college, and started racing road bikes when I was a junior. And by racing, I
mean staying with the pack for about 3 miles of a 40-mile race. But my buddy
Dave Allen persuaded me to race and keep coming out and giving it a go, and to
this day I credit (or blame) him for loving the raw speed only the road bike
can provide. Yeah, yeah,
that’s all well and good, but what about Ironman? How did you get pulled into
Ironman racing?
Well after a whopping 4 months of racing triathlons, I
started reading everything triathlon I could get my hands on. Most of the
articles and talk were about Ironman and all of the races throughout North
America. There was Peter Reid, Tim DeBoom, Natascha Badmann, Heather Fuhr,
Simon Lessing on the national scene winning races. But really the intrigue
started with our local Ironman superstars. You had guys like Jimmy Bienvenue,
Mike Alexander, Jerry Martinez, Robert Mitchell, Mark Miller, Jody Ferguson,
Ken St. Pe’, Keith Manuel, John Deshotel, Charles Brenke. They called
themselves “Team LIT”, and these guys were the big guns in triathlon. They had
the respect in the triathlon circle that the rodeo clowns get at the rodeo.
These guys were the real deal. Hearing stories of these crazy epic rides to
Kaplan, Opelousas, Church Point, and all over south Louisiana. One of the “Team LIT” members explained
their crew as “drinkers with a triathlon problem.”
Nevertheless, I wanted into that party. Just the idea of the
Ironman race sounded gnarly. I was pretty shitty on the swim, and good on the
bike. The run? Well, I played soccer, how hard could the run be? Besides the
monster miles and larger than life characters, the three things that lured me
into Ironman were: the competition, the camaraderie, and Peter Pan syndrome.
Competition was everywhere in soccer. From age 6, seeing who
could get the most soccer ball patches on their shorts for scoring goals, to
who played the most minutes per season. You were constantly in competition, trying
to win your starting spot on the field, trying to keep your spot, trying to
score goals, trying to win games, trying to pick up chicks because you scored
goals that won games. You get the idea. I was a lazy forward, and there was
nothing better than that battle of one forward with the ball versus a couple
defenders and a keeper. It was as much a mental battle as it was physical.
There were fights, shirt pulls, fists, and even a Gatorade squirt to the face
(allegedly). But after that last game at DePauw, the competition in my life was
over because soccer was over. No more battles, no more bus rides, no more
pre-race music on the Discman (no judgment youngsters!), and no more adrenaline
from all that competition. I did try to party for a while, but I wasn’t very
good at it. Plus, since I was already losing my hair as a senior in college, I
could never fit in with the gel craze at Amanda Scott’s / 410. I tried to bike
race for a year or two, but just got frustrated with the shenanigans of it all.
You’re telling me the guy that is the craftiest, not the fittest could win this
race? Not cool. But Ironman, where the toughest, hardest working, fittest
person wins. This is cool! This is for me! Competition and scoring goals in
soccer was fun, and I may have embellished my goal celebrations a bit much for
how good I really was. But one thing I missed more than the competition was the
camaraderie.
Long bus rides, those stupid inside jokes at practice,
hiding coaches keys so he couldn’t get the gear out of the shed. These were all
the day-to-day bonding and general goofing off that I missed once soccer was
over. So when I looked at Ironman and saw that I’d get to go on 5-hour bike
rides and tell stories, cut up, and generally act foolish, how could I resist?
The last (and most important) allure to Ironman for me was /
is “The Peter Pan syndrome.” I’m sure all the psychologists (Elyse included)
are licking their chops on this one. What is the Peter Pan syndrome? Well, it’s
the refusal to grow up. Somehow, I figured out / decided that it was socially
acceptable to continue being a kid as long as I did kid things. And riding my
bike, swimming and running definitely qualified as kid things. Ironman offered
me an avenue to stay young, and never grow up. Because after all, when you
spend all your time swimming, biking and running, how could you possibly have
time to do any grown up things like applying for a mortgage, buying investment
property or starting a side business? No, Ironman was the perfect escape from
reality. It gave me the same experiences and opportunities that soccer provided
all 16 years, and gave me an excuse to see cool places and spend money, time
and effort on kid stuff like bikes.
After 9 years of racing, I don’t regret a single minute. I
would still fall victim to the allure of Ironman racing if I knew then what I
know now. I may be poorer for all of the business / career opportunities
missed, but the ability to extend the competition, camaraderie and the chance
to not grow up is a deal I would make again. I’ll be forever grateful for
falling victim to the allure of the Ironman, and for all of the experiences
I’ve had on the race courses throughout the world.
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