Have you ever swum across a kilometer-wide lake? I've done it. It wasn't easy. Have you ever swum through 2.4 miles of ocean? I haven't, and I'm worried I wouldn't make it if I tried. I have biked 112 miles. It took me all day. Then I lay down in bed in one of the most profound states of bone-tired weariness I've ever experienced. I've also run a marathon. At the end of that I just wanted to lie down and never move again. I am certain beyond any reasonable doubt that it is not humanly possible to do a 2.4 mile swim, followed immediately by a 112 mile bike race, followed by a 26.2 mile run. I couldn't say what planet those people come from who do the Ironman Triathlons. But I assure you, it is not earth. Sitting at home, watching them do it on TV, you may accept the Ironman as merely impressive. I assure you the Ironman is not humanly possible. Either those are aliens or it's all done with elaborate computer graphics.

But the Ironman isn't the only form of Triathlon. There are smaller, "sprint" and "olympic," versions that mere humans can do. Can you swim a few laps in the pool? Can you ride a bike? Can you run a few miles? There you go. You could be a triathlete. Run the word over your tongue a few times. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

The beauty of triathlons is their diversity. By spreading out your training into different sports, you distribute the stress on your body. Running one day, biking the next and swimming on the third day is much less stressful than running three days in a row. And your body gets a broader workout, becoming truly fit rather than just modified to a single specialty. It's a wonderful, interesting way of life.

There is also the intellectual challenge. There is a great deal to learn if you want to do these sports well. Swimming especially is a skill - the smoother your stroke, the farther you will go with the same effort. There's also the fun of planning the transitions, from swim to bike and bike to run. On race day you'd better have all your equipment ready to go and organized properly. It's like planning a military campaign.

The race starts out with the swim. In sprint triathlons there is no specific required specific distance for any of the three legs. The shortest distance I've seen for the swim was 400 meters. Even if you're as slow, that's only going to take maybe 10 minutes. Can you teach yourself to keep swimming laps for 10 minutes? Of course, you'll need to know how to swim properly. Don't doubt that you'll need to work on this. But ten minutes isn't all that tough. You'll notice I used the word "laps." Often the smaller races do the swim portion in a community pool. There are lanes to keep you moving in the right direction, you won't have to deal with the panic of open water. Swimming in a lake or the ocean is another matter. Suddenly the worry level increases considerably. It's also difficult to swim in a straight line, since you don't have the pool lines to guide you. When crossing a lake, I've added 50% onto the distance by zigzagging constantly. I don't swim straight. When competing on a lake, you need to keep tabs on what everyone eles is doing and follow the "school" or you'll need to site on ocassion to keep your bearings. One of the secrets of open water swimming is those wet suits they wear. They actually slip through the water better than skin, and they add a modest but appreciated degree of buoyancy to your body. Sort of like sexy water wings. In open water that's comforting. For more on wetsuits click here.

Then you have to transition to the bike. Here's where the wet suit can slow you down. They can be a real drag to get off. Though I must admit, my new one peels off like a charm. Your bike equipment, of course, is all carefully laid out. Glove, helmet, shoes, remember these seconds count against you, the clock is ticking. Some have their shoes already cleated into the bike and don't strap their feet into the shoes until they're rolling. I think that's creepy, but hey, I've never won one of these things.

You don't need a fancy bike, but most of the people who do triathlons have decent equipment. You must wear a helmet. If you've done your training this is the easiest part of the race. You peddle for all you're worth and keep hydrating. Now is the time to stock up on water. You'll need it for the run. On a short race, you've may only have to ride that bike for perhaps 40 minutes. Peace of cake.

Then you're off the bike and slipping into your running shoes. Off you go. No, you don't. This will be one of the more fascinating moments of the race. You will find you cannot run. Your legs are in a weird state as a result of the time on the bike. When you ask them to run they will feel like they're made of wood - big, heavy, wooden timbers. For the first minute you will labor. And then it will get easier. On a short race you may only have a few miles to do. If you've been doing any running at all, this is doable.

Cross the finish, and you're a triathlete.

Being a triathlete is physically demanding, while at the same time being easy on the body. I can recall a triathlon that took several hours to finish. That's as long as it might take to run a marathon, yet I had none of the horrible fatigue that comes with running for three hours. Sure, I was tired, but I had none of the physical agony of a more focused effort. Let the aliens have their Ironman. The shorter triathlons are just the ticket for us mere mortals. It is a healthy way of life full of excitement, adventure, interesting challenges and a wonderful sense of purpose.

And maybe I'll admit to something. As your fitness level keeps improving and what seemed difficult now seems easy, your view of what's impossible changes. It would take over my life for a year or two, but every so often the idea of tackling an Ironman creeps into my consciousness. I know people who have done Ironmans. I keep looking for a sign, for them to slip up in some way, but as far as I can tell they don't seem to be aliens.

© Bruce T. Holmes 2000 All Rights Reserved