Triathlon’s Toughest Sport?

By MindsetTriathlon

Which is truly triathlon’s toughest sport? The folks at MindsetTriathlon (the leading supplier of swim, bike and run eBooks) felt that a good true story was the best way to determine that age-old question. In doing so, they put a call out to triathletes from all over the world for their very best stories. In an attempt to pick the toughest sport, they have selected three stories, one about the swim, one about the bike and one about the run and they are asking triathletes and sports enthusiasts to vote for their favorite story. The author of the winning story will not only have helped determine triathlon’s toughest sport, but will also win three months of massage therapy. An anthology of 26 of these stories will become available at MindsetTriathlon in January.

To vote for your favorite story, visit http://www.mindsettriathlon.com/index.php

Water Hazards
By Alison Suckling

The swim is a battle zone. In my second-ever triathlon I was sunk by two men who both attacked like battle cruisers from behind. The first bumped me hard; the other followed, like a one-two punch, and I was stone-dunked 4 feet under. I made a decision to stay there while they cleared the surface. Glaring up through the water, I watched their bodies like two Great Whites silhouetted against the sky. Fury boiled up. I surfaced full of spite, honed in on their giant splashing arms, and passed them ­ cold, pace and race forgotten. Honor satisfied and totally out of breath, I settled down and swam steadily up to about 200 yards from the finish. By that time the cold had turned my hands into numb lumps. I was grimly clawing to the exit when the tiniest drop of water seeped into my goggles. Both eyes instantly burst into flame. I couldn¹t stop as I was in a race, damn it, and besides my hands were useless, so I figured the best thing was to swim harder and get out faster. So I did. In T1 I flapped my hands and sat on them before they de-thawed to a usable state. My eyes seemed calmer and eventually I biked out only to find my sunglasses were all fogged up. I removed them and to my horror realized it wasn¹t the glasses. It was my eyes. They had hazed over with grey film ­ a reaction to the chemically enhanced duck poop which had invaded my goggles.

I was full of “just do it” zeal and determination and this was one of my first triathlons. I carried on. With my vision reduced to fog and my sinuses eagerly producing buckets of slime in sympathy with my injured eyes, I sniffed, snuffled and fumbled all the way to the finish, blind and still hypothermic. The medical tent awaited and I was promptly sent to the local Emergency Room. I spent the next 24 hours at home on the sofa, both eyes loaded with antibiotics and bandaged tightly shut.

SWIM ON! Adventure awaits.

Lightning Fast
By Gil Hannon

T1 was nothing out of the ordinary. T2 would be wildly opposite. During the Rockman 1/2 distance triathlon held in Rockford IL, I exited T1 anticipating a fast, uneventful 56 mile bike ride through country roads.

Somewhere near mile 25, the rain began, causing it to become the most challenging, intense bike ride I have ever experienced. The rain slicked roads caused me to hang on tight while cars passed within feet while riding downhill at 30+ mph!

I continued on precariously alongside another racer. This provided comfort to each of us as we pedaled harder back to transition. We agreed the safest choice for us was to continue riding back to safety. That was until we witnessed a streak of lightening in the distance that, according to our best judgment, was right near transition. Within minutes, my riding companion was picked up by her friend/spouse who felt it wiser to be in the safety of a vehicle. I continued on. I prayed as I rode, all the while expecting a race official to come beside me to inform me to take shelter. This did not take place and I managed to return to transition unscathed. Transition was a mess with rows of bikes completely knocked over due to the high winds. A spectator’s umbrella was tumbling through the parking area as I walked to my spot at the rack. I could not imagine the race continuing after having been though the most treacherous ride of my life. But it did. I emptied my shoes of rain water and began my run and eventually finished the race. In the end, once the storm had passed, we were informed that a tornado had been sighted near the park and winds had reached gusts of 60mph. The storm had knocked down several trees within the park.

This is my story as to why the bike portion is triathlon’s toughest sport.

What is the Toughest Aspect of Triathlon?
By Elaine Ryan

Ask my husband, and he will tell you it is being married to a triathlete. Between self-absorbed workouts and body-image obsession, it takes a unique and compassionate partner to understand and support triathlon¹s all-consuming mindset.

I grew up in Southern California running track with Deanna (Drossin) Kastor. I thrived on adrenaline from competition, team camaraderie when lacing up our spikes on the cinder, and kissing fit, sun-kissed boys in the back of the bus rumbling to track meets. But I never understood how grueling running is until I began training for distance sports.

It’s easy to argue that running is the most difficult because it takes the most heart to finish. At the end of a triathlon, it’s the final leg that forces us in touch with our humanity. After suffering through swim and bike, we still have to conquer that run. Hobbling along on toothpicks after the initial torture, trying to settle into some kind of recognizable pace takes the most courage.

Running isn’t for the faint of heart. When summer temperatures climb excessively, sweating takes on new meaning. With perspiration flinging off pumping limbs, spit flying, and noses farm-blowing, I’ve shared more bodily fluids with running partners than I have in some intimate relationships. Running doesn¹t afford the luxury of cooling off in the water or catching a breeze; it forces us to visit putrid portable potties and put thirsty lips to slimy water spigots.

The run is so dependent on pace (sub-eights to count), on numbers (miles logged). It counts failures (DNFs) and looks for successes (age groups won). Running holds a scorecard of disappointments from races past and is never free of conditions that bind, or expectations that dictate.

Running is challenging because of the accountability it keeps.

Running is the most difficult because it’s so self-reliant, self-propelled, and self-motivated. It is free of any required superfluous gear, apart from a good pair of shoes, so it takes sheer heart. Running, in its purity, has taught me to be passionate and to cultivate the drive in my soul.