Every day I feel like triathlon is helping me build a closer connection with myself. It’s a subtle, slow, and genuine burn that inches its way deeper into my soul with every stroke, spin, and stride. It began by setting a nearly unfathomable goal, but has now transformed into a lifestyle. Not a triathlon lifestyle, but a more confident, clear, and defined picture of who I am. And the most exciting part is, I barely feel like I’ve scratched the surface.
If you’ve never raced a triathlon, or more specifically swam a mile in 58 degree water, it’s really hard to understand the feeling of running barefoot on cold concrete for nearly half a mile. Your feet are numb and you’d better get used to it because the rain isn’t stopping and you’re about to pedal your bike for 25 miles with no socks.
Everything was warm, except my feet and hands, both of which would be extremely important in the upcoming moments. I relished the brief respite from the rain in the covered transition area as I gathered my bearings and decided what to wear or omit for my bike ride. The arm warmers were a lock (thanks, coach) but the knee warmers stayed in the bag. The helmet went on, I grabbed my bike, then ran it toward the bike exit. About halfway there I realized I was holding and not wearing my gloves. This was a problem. I stopped and tried to pull gloves onto my freezing hands and it was a total OJ moment. “The gloves didn’t fit.” I stood there for what seemed like several minutes as tons of racers blew by and my bike slid around my body like an oblong hula hoop.
All told, the run from the swim, the bike prep, and the glove fiasco took roughly six and a half minutes. The whole time, I was afraid to look at my feet.
But it’s moments like this when I try to think of something inspiring, and any time I feel sorry for myself for being cold I think of one man: Ernest Shackleton.
I’ve said it before, but if you’re into adventure, you have to read a book called, Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage. Not only is it a great adventure book, it may be the most engaging grouping of words I’ve ever laid eyes on. “Simply Brilliant” says Crushing Iron blogger, Mike Tarrolly.
Here are a few Shackleton quotes to chew on:
“Difficulties are just things to overcome, after all.”
“I seemed to vow to myself that some day I would go to the region of ice and snow and go on and on till I came to one of the poles of the earth, the end of the axis upon which this great round ball turns.”
“After months of want and hunger, we suddenly found ourselves able to have meals fit for the gods, and with appetites the gods might have envied.”
“We had seen God in His splendors, heard the text that Nature renders. We had reached the naked soul of man.”
I mean, come on! This dude did not fuck around with exploring. “Endurance” is about an expedition to the South Pole with like twenty five guys who signed up simply for the adventure. Shackleton posted this ad in the paper to find his crew:
MEN WANTED for hazardous journey, small wages, bitter cold, constant danger, safe return doubtful, honor and recognition in case of success.
And you know what? He turned men away!
That book has helped me many times. Having cold feet is a metaphor when you try to envision what Shackleton and his men endured.
So, I finally looked and my feet were a similar hue to how I imagine them looking in my casket one day. I closed my eyes and thought of Shackleton (in the middle of winter, bobbing his way in an undersized wooden boat through the most deadly sea in the world wearing little more than a sweat shirt) and jumped on my Trek triathlon bike to ride in a misting rain along nicely paved streets in Knoxville, Tennessee.
I honestly don’t remember much of the bike leg (maybe that’s why I’m harping on the Shackleton thing . . . although, I seriously cannot recommend that book enough) but I do know it was an amazing course. It started along the river, swung up through a business district, dipped onto a major highway, then headed into the beautiful Knoxville hills. On a sunny day, the scenery would have been spectacular.
I think only two things could have gone better for me on the bike (aside from having race wheels). One was a situation where I was coming down the longest hill and could have really been cooking, but a car got in the way. There were also bikes in front of him, so he rode his breaks down the entire hill. We were probably going 20 mph and that could have easily been 28, but there was nothing I could do. I waited about a half mile until he finally turned off, clearing my way for another climb.
The other thing I did wrong was not listen to my coach and hammer the climbs. His logic was clear, “It’s wet, the course is pretty technical and you’ll be breaking a lot on the downhills.” I probably could have climbed harder and recovered on the descents. Lesson learned.
The last half mile was the same flat road along the river and I cruised in around 24 mph. I felt great, but my legs had joined my feet in the world of numb appendages. How do your legs and feet function when you can’t feel them? I can hear Shackleton laughing in my face.
I forgot to start my watch again and haven’t figured out my speedometer, so I had no idea how long the bike took, but I knew it was pretty solid. I started the bike in 141st place out of 355 total racers and ended in 100th. Average speed was 20 mph and the total time was 1:15 for 25 miles.
I dismounted my bike with one shoe still clipped on the pedal and one on my left foot, which made for a clumsy stroll through transition, especially on frozen feet, but the good news was . . . I’d get to run a 10k next!
It’s an odd predicament in the sense that as soon as you start each stage, you want to be in the next one as fast as possible. But, the more I race, the more I try to embrace every minute and let the end come when it will. In reality, it doesn’t get much more awesome than swimming in a raging Tennessee River on a cold and rainy morning. It’s a rare opportunity to test yourself. To push the limits. To emerge from a major challenge. Not many people take those kinds of plunges because, until you do it, it’s hard to understand why you would.