Why I Tri (English version)

After the 2016 season I took a step back to reflect on why I do what I do. Or why I did what I did. No matter. The answer was less convenient as I had initially thought, hereunder the result.

The end of the season leaves some space for a short break and a moment of reflection. Reflection initiated by questions which have been asked from a number of sources, but which can in essence all be grouped under one common denominator: Why I Tri.

Three words make a seemingly simple question, as I was planning to embark on a journey to create a non-exhaustive list containing several benefits of the sport. After a while, it rather felt like embarking on a journey to nowhere: the only inspiration I got were vague descriptions of feelings and emotions that matter to nobody but me. However, I had noticed that, if the question were to be put in a more negative tone, a waterfall of reasons could surge. So let’s try it that way, a detour is only useless if the end state is not obtained. So why would one not step in the journey of triathlon?

I have decided. Too many disadvantages. The bike goes on eBay, I get fat and live happily ever after (just not as long).

As far as I am concerned, the biggest disadvantage is the need for equipment, going hand in hand with the vast amounts of money needed for it. However this may be dependent on the level of ambition, several costs are simply unavoidable: a secondhand bike, starter model wetsuit and a pair of trainers easily add up to a four digit sum. Compare this to the most basic sport ever, running, one pair of trainers at €100,- and you’re set for 1000km! When the level of ambition rises, so will the costs. A second bike, maybe a third just for training; an upgrade on the wheel set; a more high-end wetsuit, … The costs add up and you haven’t swum a single stroke.

This brings us seamlessly to the training-labour. It has to be said that, just as the argument of cost, this as well is very prone to the level of ambition of the athlete-to-be. One thing is for certain: as a recreational triathlete, you have to train three times as many sports as a recreational swimmer, cyclist or runner. When the level of ambition rises, the number of sessions rises. Quid pro quo, the number of hours invested in training rises. The impact on a normal social life is not to be underestimated: on a Friday evening, when friends are out having drinks, quickly jam another pool session in that body and hope that you are not too exhausted to join in afterwards. Wisely opt for a decent night’s sleep, because you know that on Saturday an early morning bike ride is scheduled. And this day after day, week after week, month after month.

Being persistent, we have made it to the starting grid of our first race. For god’s sake, why would anyone willingly destroy themselves physically for one hour, two hours, four hours, … just to get a pat on the back, a ‘well done’ and a remembrance medal? There are only three podium spots to split amongst the hundreds of competitors. In addition to that, participation is not free: year after year, the entry fees grow and grow, the travelling and logistics are not to be underestimated and more often than not, races are scheduled in a way that there is nothing left of the day.

Lastly there is the boogieman of the (social) media (if you know where to look), where we are bombarded with epic footage of ITU World Triathlon Series, Olympic Games and long distance events such as Iron Man, Challenge and the allXtri series. Hope is created, expectations are raised. These events tend to motivated every sports enthusiast, but reality is that only the very lucky few will get to see the start, let alone the finish, of these events in another role as spectator.

I have decided. Too many disadvantages. The bike goes on eBay, I get fat and live happily ever after (just not as long).

Or is this a bit shortsighted? To put it ‘Cruijffiaans’: ‘you can’t spell disadvantage without advantage’. Please note that the following arguments are not general. As I said in the introduction, these are vague descriptions of feeling which work for me. For someone else, this may seem nonsense. This someone else is wrong.

Triathlon contains all the positive elements of a summer camp, only without the silly games.

The costs, there is no way around it. A basis set of equipment is the minimum minimorum and service and repair costs are always sneaking around the corner. But next to this, all we want to spend is our own choice. A motto I tend to live by is ‘buy cheap, buy twice’ or ‘buy cheap, get cheap’, whatever floats your boat. Different interpretations, optimistic or pessimistic, I leave to you.

The training labour is what it is, as well as their impact on what is considered a normal social life. In my eyes, this does not have to be something negative, on the contrary. Rarely have I gotten to know that many people in such a short time span, have I travelled that many regions by bike and have I maintained such close relations with friends and family as during my first years in the sport. Thanks to this comprehensive sport I’ve met the love of my life. Triathlon contains all the positive elements of a summer camp, only without the silly games.

Fltr. The love of my life and me.

Only the races remain one big question mark. You have to be at least a wee bit masochistic to race the white from your eyes and to be willing to pay for it. Sacrifice your hard earned weekends or, in case of remote races, your holidays. What outsiders don’t seem to grasp is the feeling, the sensation, of crossing the finish line. It’s a boundary which is pushed, both physically and mentally, both literally and as a figure of speech. You couldn’t be more happy that it’s over, but you can’t wait to start the next race. To go where you have never thought you could go. This feeling is the same for the winner of the race and for the red lantern. All are equal in death, all are equal in triathlon.

What remains are the unachievable goals. The seemingly unachievable goals seems a more correct way to put it. A list of quotes from the recently deceased Muhammad Ali is filled with one-liners to give us that extra push. The only certainty I can give you is that if it works in your head, it will work in real life.

You may dream.

You must dream.

I dream of the Norseman. Who is going to stop me?

If your dreams don’t scare you, they aren’t big enough. – Muhammad Ali