Origins: My first tri.

Ahh, was a bright day in '05. Though I can't tell you how hot it was, or why I thought this was a good idea. I signed up for the Camp Pendleton International Triathlon. Just over a mile in the water, 25 miles of cycling, and a 10K run. I finished the day 7th from the back of the pack in my age group, cramped up in both calves, and fell asleep in my car in a parking lot not 15 minutes from the race site out of sheer exhaustion. I was so hooked it wasn't funny. I had only owned my bike for three months. I'd just finished a trio of half marathons and my head told me that even though I hadn't really swam a mile in quite some time that it'd be fine and it would remember.

I'm still not sure how many extra meters/miles I swam that day as I weaved all over the course but I do remember wanting to call it quits after the first 800 meters, but I looked behind me as the next wave was about to overtake me and saw that I was almost to the end of the first leg and that it'd be almost as long to swim back and quit as it would have been to keep on swimming and finish the swim leg, so I finished it. I'd never been a cyclist but I can sit and pedal. Then I started getting passed by people while I was riding that made me feel like I was standing still taking in the scenery.

The run put us on a 5K loop where I saw one of my friends, the guy that introduced me to triathlon, and eventually who's stories got me in to ironman, and he was moving through the course with ease and looked like barely winded. That's where I want to be I kept thinking to myself.

If I haven't mentioned it before races at Camp Pendleton are amazing, they are huge gatherings of athletes and enthusiasts and the courses are marshalled by active duty US Marines and San Diego County Lifeguards.

The run for me was agonizing. I'd never considered needing salt or other electrolytes and in retrospect was at a serious deficit for those and water. My legs hadn't run for three and a half hours and were threatening me with the only thing I'd listen to, not finishing. So I slowed down and started walking. A marine was pacing the white line on the center of the road 400 meters from the finish line/turn around point and was chanting. "Pain is temporary. Victory lasts forever. You WILL finish this race. Don NOT let your mind beat you. Pain - IS - TEMPO-RARY, VICTORY - That IS what we want - Victory lasts forever!" I passed by his small part of the course twice and jog/stumbled through it without walking.

I have friends who serve, enlisted in college or after. Today they are deployed all over the world. The training that they have completed and the degree to which what their training and mission matter is something that I can never remove from my mind. I can't quit in front of an active duty serviceman or woman. I can't falter a step in this thing that I'm supposedly doing for fun in front of a Marine sergent.

It was my first finish. Three hours and eleven minutes. The cramps in my calves lasted for a week. I'd had no training on speed, pacing, transition, nutrition, or recovery. I'd finished but hurt so badly I'd felt like I'd lost. And now I'm hooked. I wonder if cocaine made someone feel tired, injured, broken, and then had a hangover, would it still be as addicting? I'm not sure it would. I can't explain my attraction to this. Suffice it to say that I am.
-ds