Why Ironman?
I’ll preface this post by saying that just because someone doesn’t choose to do an Ironman doesn’t diminish their worth or value as a (tri)athlete. And I say that with all honesty. Certainly, there are far more important and larger things in life than to devote your time and efforts to training for an Ironman. But TriMama’s post got me thinking and I wanted to share my thoughts on the whole thing and why I made the decision to take the challenge.
For me, Ironman always seemed like an impossible feat. When I first heard about an Ironman triathlon back in high school, I thought that the folks that competed in that sort of event were nuts. I was always pretty active as a kid, playing competitive basketball and soccer growing up. In high school, I was on the varsity water polo, wrestling, and swimming teams. But the compared to Ironman, my sports seemed laughable. Lets face it - swimming or running for a couple hours for practice is a mere warm up to what these Ironman folks do day in and day out. And we’re just talking about training here - forget the actual race itself as there is no comparison. College was largely the same. I swam competitively for a couple of years there too, but never got in any kind of shape where I could have thought about doing an Ironman. Ironman was the ultimate endurance event. There was nothing more challenging out there at the time than having to race 140.6 miles in a single day.
And it being “impossible” was the real draw to it, I guess. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about the intangible that makes me want it even more. I suppose that’s why telling kids “no” always makes their desire to do that particular thing even greater. It’s the whole forbidden fruit idea or something like that. I viewed Ironman as the ultimate endurance event that only the super athletic could accomplish. Sure, there are now double and triple Irondistance races, but something about those being multiples of “the distance” make it seem like an Ironman is the gold standard by which things are measured. I was proud of my athletic background. But just participating in sports, it seemed that something was lacking. I wanted more.
Some eight or nine years later, I decided to go for it. I had a couple friends that had done it. They assured me that Ironman was “just a distance” and the feat wasn’t insurmountable if you were willing to put in the training. And so I decided to jump in head first into this whole triathlon thing. I will say that while training for one of these things, you really learn a lot about yourself. As you push your body to go places it has never been before, not only do you see your body and mind physically improve from week to week, you also see some of the nastiest parts of you come out and you (and unfortunately, those around you) are brought face to face with things you probably didn’t know existed inside of you. I’m talking about those days where you’re already bruised and beaten up and you have a training plan that doesn’t care and gives you a seven hour brick to get done anyway. Days where you’re just flat out tired and cranky, and you feel like the entire world is against you and your goals. I don’t know about you, but for me, that really brings out the worst in me. Heh. One of the reasons that I know that my fiancee and I are going to make it is that she’s seen me like that and loves me regardless. That’s love, I tell you!
But I digress… in some sick way, that place of utter exhaustion is a place that I’d say that triathletes secretly love. At least I sort of relish in this suffering. Maybe not the moment itself, but knowing that if I can make it through whatever happens to be attempting to crush my spirits at that time, that when I come out the other side I’m going to be a changed person because of it. Stronger and faster, both mentally and physically. I think about last Sunday and cramping on that bike and going into that dark place. But when I’m there, I think about times like this and this and know that I’ve been to this place before and I’ve pulled through. And in the future, when I return to that dark place, last Sunday will be another bullet in my chamber to shoot down the demons who say “you can’t”. Suffering forces you on that point where you’re forced to make a choice. Tuck your tail between your legs and accept defeat, or look your adversaries in the eye and show them who you really are and what you’re really made of, knowing that afterwards you’re going to come out better, stronger, and more refined. This, my friends, is the heart of Ironman.
And sure, at the end of it there’s the “Ironman club”. It’s comprised of all those folks that have crossed that magical finish line. Regardless if they’re a Kona world champion or if they’re struggling to make the 17 hour cutoff, they’ve taken the same strokes, pedals, and strides that you’ve taken to get there. There’s an odd understanding that is shared between finishers. Sure, they all have different lives and different athletic and personal backgrounds, but all have done a considerable amount of work to just get to that start line. Everyone who was racing out there last Sunday immediately knows first hand the kind of suffering that the course brought out that day and that alone has instantly brought two thousand strangers a little closer together. And maybe this is just me, but if I see someone else wearing an Ironman finishers t-shirt or that has an M-Dot tattoo stamped proudly on their leg, I feel oddly connected to that person knowing that he/she has shared an experience that so few on this whole earth have had.
Why Ironman? I don’t think there is a simple answer to that question or one that is all encompassing. But that’s at least part of the “why” for me.