SPANGDAHLEM AIR BASE, Germany -- Triathlons are not that hard, right? They only take consistent training and preparation. The discipline and consistency required for triathlon training mirrors the efforts needed to build and maintain resilience.
For those who are unfamiliar, a middle-distance triathlon is 70.3 miles, with a 1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike ride and a 13.1-mile run. This wasn’t my first time performing a 70.3, but no matter how much practice I had prior, I still got the all-too-familiar uneasy feeling in my stomach I tend to get before a big race.
To aid in my nervousness, it stormed the night before – I swear I had never felt the clap and bang of thunder so loud. I stayed awake worrying about my road bike and running gear I had put into the designated transition area the day prior, hoping my shoes stayed dry and my bike didn’t fall over. Eventually, I fell into a restless sleep, those thoughts continuing to fill my head.
Morning came quickly, and after eating a bagel sandwich, I gathered my gear bag and went to meet up with my family.
After a short drive to the race site, and what felt like forever to find parking, my family and I made our way to the race transition area. Only competing athletes are allowed in the transition area, so this is where I left my family to find my bike, waiting for me with its bright green handlebars, and shiny black and gray frame. I taped a few gel packets, as future fuel, to the top of the bike and made sure it was all ready to go. Thankfully, my run gear survived the rain, so I was in good spirits and ready to race.
Heading to the swim start, I met up with my family along the way to hug and kiss them goodbye, knowing they would track my every move on the course through the provided timing chip.
Swimming in a triathlon is a unique experience and varies from course to course. While some courses may have swimmers in an ocean or lake, this one had us in the Moselle River. Race officials allow three to four swimmers at a time, which doesn’t necessarily help relieve congestion later on. People will inevitably end up swimming over each other, clawing and propelling their way to the swim finish.
The athletes were herded into a fenced pathway, where we were almost shoulder-to-shoulder in a place called the swim shoot. It felt weird standing there, looking at all these people who looked like they knew what they were doing. I felt like I stood out, and there was no way I looked like them. I looked nervous, as I stood there awkwardly in this sea full of people.
Before I knew it, I was in the water. I reminded myself to take my time because I still had the bike and running portions. To my surprise, the swim was over before I really even processed the race had begun.
The transition from swimming to biking felt smooth. There were so many people cheering and yelling, which caused me to feel a sudden rush of calmness. My brain set to auto-pilot, and I started to race my own race.
I hopped on my bike and immediately started to push the RPMs (revolutions per minute). I was in the zone, taking in nutrition when I needed it. The beginning of the bike course was flat and 20 miles long, leading me to a grueling uphill climb. I knew that hill was coming, but I also knew I had trained for this.
I made it to the hill and started the climb. My legs pushed at a steady beat - when I noticed my bike chain suddenly start to slip. I didn’t think anything of it, chains jump and skip sometimes. At the crest of the hill, I could see a pretty steep decline and I knew it was the perfect opportunity for a breather. I took advantage and coasted before starting a second climb.
The second climb was strange, it was not as grueling as the first hill. My chain started to slip more frequently, which caused me to take real notice this time.
Abruptly, my chain snapped, right at the top of the hill. I hopped off my bike so fast. I had no phone or headphones as they were not allowed during the race. All I had were my thoughts.
What just happened? No way this just happened. What am I supposed to do now?
I was stuck, completely and utterly stuck. They didn’t cover this obstacle during the pre-race brief. Defeated, I stood on the side of the road holding embarrassment in my hand in the shape of a broken chain. I felt a weird kind of shame standing there on the side of the road, watching other participants pass me.
After a few minutes, I saw a patrolman on a motorcycle. Feeling a glimmer of hope, I flagged him down to ask for help. To my dismay, he couldn’t offer any direct help and suggested a bike technician might be ahead roughly 500 meters away. With no other options, I began walking.
With one hand on the bright green handlebar tape, and the other holding my embarrassment, more thoughts circulated my mind. I was going to have to drop out of this race – drop out of something I had committed so much to already. Even worse, I was going to have to drop out because of something that was completely out of my control.
I started to cry.
A few minutes of walking later, I looked up. Trying to stop the tears from streaming down my face, I focused my sights on the bike technician. I started to feel better, thinking more positive thoughts, Maybe I won’t have to drop out after all. I knew my family was worried about me, so knowing I would be on the road soon was relieving. There was hope again for me to finish this race.
Though it took a little over an hour before the technician was able to help me, I felt overjoyed and hopped back on my bike to resume my race.
It’s important to note that in a 70.3 race, there are time limits for each event. Athletes must finish the swim in 70 minutes, the bike in 5 hours and 20 minutes from the individual start time and the run in 8 hours and 30 minutes from the individual start time.
Having lost an hour to a mechanical issue was stressful, making my only goal to finish before my cut-off time.
Adaptability was a word that flashed through my mind during this time. Athletes must adapt to varying conditions, such as weather changes and unexpected issues during races. The ability to pivot and adjust when faced with unforeseen circumstances is crucial to both triathlons and in life.
I finished the bike in a total of 4:24:37. This meant I was still going to make it to the running leg of the race. I was filled with relief knowing even though something happened that was out of my control, I was able to adapt and overcome it to finish the race.
At the beginning of my run, the course was packed with race participants and spectators. The runners were giving high-fives, the energy was electric, and I was just happy to have gotten to that point. As the end neared, the course became emptier, as athletes finished, and spectators began to leave. Several hours in, I just wanted to finish the race.
My family cheered me on and ran beside me to motivate me through to the end. Passing them, my focus became set on making it to an aid station.
With every completed lap, race volunteers awarded colored bracelets to the athletes. The first couple bracelets were yellow, with the last one being light blue. The feeling of getting that last bracelet was the last push I needed to make it to the finish line.
I left everything I had on that race course. I felt exhausted, but proud of myself for what I had accomplished.
Enduring the physical and mental demands of this triathlon cultivated a different breed of mental toughness that I never knew I had. I needed to push through pain, fatigue and doubt. I learned how to handle the stress and setbacks that can happen spontaneously in a triathlon.
My finish time was 8:03:19, finishing 26 minutes and 41 seconds before the cutoff. I accomplished my goal!
In the end, triathlons are actually pretty hard.