The Insanity of Triathletes

This is the first in a series I would like to title "Things I Will Probably Never Do In My Life."

A couple weekends ago I drove down to middle-of-nowhere Virginia -- no, Rye, not Rocky Gap -- to watch my bro-in-law, Ben, compete in a half-Ironman Triathlon. There were various incentives for going, but the most enticing was Ben's promise: "If I finish, I'm going to tattoo the Ironman logo on my butt." (I reminded him that since it was a half-Ironman he could justifiably get half the tattoo now and finish it up when he did a full one next August) As creepy as the prospect of seeing another man's pale white cheek normally is, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I hopped in the car after work on a Friday and headed south.

Inking aspirations aside, it was impressive to think about what's involved in a half-Ironman triathlon: a 1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike ride, and 13-mile run. Ben ended up doing quite well and we were proud of him. Granted, he wandered aimlessly for about 30 minutes after the race, mumbling stuff like "I don't feel good" and being nonresponsive to simple queries like: "What do you need? Water? Powerbar?", but all in all it was great.

Since I have never trained for or even considered doing a triathlon of any sort, I wouldn't know where to advise you on how to get ready for one. I am, however, an expert spectator, so I have done the courtesy of providing a list on how to best prepare to spectate such an event:

• Get used to cheering for people you don't know. Along with that, refrain from calling participants by name. They prefer whatever number is written in sharpie marker on their arm/leg;
  
• Bring a lawn chair from which you will have ample time to -- in between the sporadic and short opportunities you have to cheer for competitors -- contemplate your own laziness;
• Sunscreen;
  
• Prepare yourself to see girls with larger shoulders than you. This even applies to you, men (exception: Casey Tanner);
• Bring a tolerance for men in speedos. I will not offer advice on how to prepare for this aspect of spectating, and will leave that to your own discretion;
  
• Bring a defibrillator. Believe it or not, strenuous exertion for 5+ hours in mid-Atlantic summer humidity increases a person's chances of randomly collapsing at or near your feet;
• Bring a reluctant willingness to use your middle finger. This is reserved only for use on the spectators who feel that since they have previously completed a triathlon they somehow have license to make fun of those who are struggling or may not have all of the 'right' equipment. ***(In no other aspect of life do I endorse this action)***

Some memorable quotes from the day:

From Ben before he got in the water for the swim:
"Josh, I wish I had some words of wisdom for you right now..." *long pause as he begins to walk towards the beach* "...well, see you in 30 minutes"

Some random guy (#45, I believe) talking to his friend during the swim-biking transition:
"That's a long-ass swim"

Mad props to those who have the discipline and guts to train for crap like this!