World Half-Ironman Championships on the Sunshine Coast of Australia

The atmosphere on the morning of the half-ironman world championship feels absolutely electric.  The long-awaited event proves to be a surprisingly pleasant "victory lap" - a journey through the scenic Mooloolaba, Australia course in front of enthusiastic spectators with the most talented of fields I have competed against in many years. 

One of the charms of Ironman events is the upbeat, pop music piped in to fire participants up, along with announcers who motivate us with running commentary and encouragement --    the announcers keep reminding us how we are an exclusive, ultra-elite group -- the 3,000 triathletes to win these coveted spots from among the 130,000 entrants competing in worldwide Ironman 70.3 events over the past 12 months. 

The announcers also repeatedly talk of the 81 different countries represented in the race.  The Australian hosts qualify the most athletes with over 800 including the race winner and this reinforces my feeling that triathlon is something of an Australian national sport (wasn't it the Australians that got triathlon into the Olympics back at Sydney in 2000?).  However the American-based Ironman organization is keen to remind us of their Ironman Origin Story in a slickly produced video that opens with mystical images of Hawaiian lava and Polynesian music and a poetic account of the original 1978 Ironman.  I've read that various groups had the bright idea of combining swim, bike, and run races - some of which are documented as far back as 1920s in France - not terribly long after the bike was first invented. But not until the Ironman in Hawaii and its subsequent Wide World of Sports television coverage did the sport of triathlon become a "thing"

And at Mooloolaba it was serious, serious thing

The announcers estimated that the bike racks contained well over US$20 million worth of bicycles, an average of over $6,000 per bike (I must bring the average down quite a bit).  

I learn that my fellow championship competitors average over 15 hours per week of training (so again I am bringing the average down). 

In addition to all this investment in equipment and training, the triathletes seems a more competitive personality as well.  Runners qualify for the Boston Marathon by competing against the clock, and I have become accustomed to runners emphasizing how every race is an internal battle against ones' own will and denying any thought of competing directly with another runner.  Not these triathletes -- to get to Mooloolaba it all about the mano mano combat to vanquish a rival and earn the age-group rolldown slots in the Championship.   Even the spectators bring a more serious, take-no-prisoner, competitive spirit -- all along the course I saw signs with a do-or-die theme  - "The Pain is Temporary, Your Results Will Be With You Forever" "Push Beyond Your Limits" etc (none of that candy-ass 'just do your best/your family loves you' stuff I am used to seeing at charity runs) 

Somehow this pervasive seriousness made me more intent on doing all the little thoughtful and  sportsmanlike things I would strive to do at any event (not always 100% successfully as I grow tired), for example profusely thanking aid station workers, high-fiving every single child holding up their hand, encouraging runners who passed me, smiling and thanking all the spectators who are enthusiastically yelling out my name (which is printed on my race number bib).

And this pervasive seriousness seem to make me paradoxically less competitive and less concerned with my results.  Oddly for a person who had battled so ferociously against the small children and pets in the Pumpkin Push or the Dog Day Dash, here at the frigging triathlon championships I am strangely detached and content to just enjoy the experience. 

I had always figured I would not figure on the podium anyway, and it did not take long to confirm this.  Within seconds of my swim wave starting I begun losing ground, and by the first buoy most of the field is a pack of splashing arms in the far distance. I do hold my own through the first half of the bike which is an out-and-back on a smooth, straight expressway, but fade a bit in the latter half of the bike as my strength ebbs on the hills and turns.  And on the run?  You can see my bemused smile in accompanying picture -- as I hit the finish carpet I just slowed down to savor the moment.    

I still have not bothered to find out my precise finish results.  I do OK, and, I mean, hey I am a finisher in the world championship -- what difference do a few minutes or a few places one way or the other matter..  I surmise that I placed pretty much right in the middle of the field.

One of the most pleasant memories of the day is running into my old teammate Kyle from the Silicon Valley Triathlon Club for warm up in the sunrise swim before the race.  It was Kyle who 15 years ago had encouraged me to do a triathlon after listening to me talk about being a "long-time triathlete wanna-be" at a century charity bike ride and weekly Palo Alto runs.  I remember Kyle telling me to focus on counting my strokes in the moments before the Sandman Triathlon in Monterrey Bay as I stared with sheer terror at the waves I had to swim through in the 800-meter "sprint distance".   Now we are both in the World Championships (granted Kyle is far, far faster finishing an amazing 3rd in the age group).  

Much of my week-long triathlon travel experience in Australia itself is a blur of struggling to get enough sleep to recover from the overnight flight to Australia and be rested for the early event start, dealing with driving on left side of road through all the roundabouts and navigating way around the busy resort town.  All the usual triathlon logistics are magnified by the large scale of this event, and I am my typical unorganized and inefficient triathlon self   

The travel effort, expense, and training is certainly worthwhile though; the Mooloolaba event is a great memory and milestone for me.