I’m not sure if it was another overdose of Starbucks Dark Roast that kept me tossing and turning last night but sleep was nowhere to be had. With time to kill, I switched rooms opened up the laptop, and watched that Battle Royale that held the tri-world’s attention for the past week.
Although some folks debate the validity (or the point) of going for an iron-distance record, the Frodo-Sanders duel generated more You Tube hits than the average cat video. As the minutes passed, the viewing seemed to get a bit more engaging, and seeing Jan’s less than graceful T1, made me appreciate him more as a human and an athlete than him holding 300 watts for 180 kilometres.
And then there was MMA world age grouper champion in waiting, our own Lionel Sanders. Our boy-wunder from Windsor, or is that Tucson, never fails to give a good show, win or not. Once again, it wasn’t his 310 watts for 180 kilometres that impressed me, it was him dropping his water bottle while hobbling out of T2, that made me like this guy even more. And for his less running style, which resembles more of an animal that has just been freed from a leg trap than a triathlon god, well, that’s just icing on the cake.
The production value on this Jan-inspired event was second to none in the triathlon world, and it really showed that when “mainstream” production meets multisport, viewer engagement is sure to follow. The televised bio metrics of the two athletes was often shown on the screen or mentioned by the commentators, and that data enabled us, the mortal triathletes of the world, to gauge our fitness against these gladiators.
But as amusing as the numbers were, as always, it was the final miserable miles of the marathon that entrained and inspired the most. Just like the Julie Moss crawl in 1982, it was the agonized face of the impervious German and the ever-deteriorating gait of Sanders that glued our eyes to the screen and ours hearts to our throats. Some sports analysts say that the champions make winning look easy, Sanders defies that adage when he wins, and when he doesn’t, it’s even “better.”
After the video I went to sleep, with visions of suffering triathletes, dancing in my head. Fast forward to 7AM and I woke up with the motivation to do some suffering of my own and since I am training for Ironman this year, it seemed like a sensible plan.
Fortunately the winds of the Okanagan were only too happy to conspire with my sadistic request. Unlike the dedicated athletes who possess the motivation and good sense to knock out their swim at 6 or 7 or 8 AM, my sloth-like ways saw me show up to the Big Peach at the crack of 9. The prevailing north wind was howling and the lake, as is often the case, resembled the inside of a washing machine set on permanent press. My plan was developing even further. Being the hydro-sloth that I am, my goal was to get in the water and see if I could do the distance is less than twice the time Frodeno did his swim on Sunday.
Unlike the Battle Royale swim course, there was no black line and it wasn’t certified. It was, however the Ironman practice route that athletes have been using for years, which is from between the Big Peach to the SS Sicamous, twice. Likely, this was the same route that Sanders would have taken in his practice swims here back in 2017 when he won the ITU Long Course Championships.
32 ounces of dark roast and a whole wheat bagel gave me the required fuelling for the attempt. My antiquated and torn but trusty wet-suit went on without a hitch but the new goggles that I somehow found in my swim bag were too loose. I cinched them up tightly, knowing that once I was out in the waves, adjusting them would be rewarded with mouthfuls of carp-infused water.
My first trip out to the Sicamous was leisurely and wavy and 22 minutes. I knew things would get only slower. My suspicions were confirmed on the return trip as the waves intensified to the point where I had to just focus on survival, not speed. The suffering that I had so desired was being delivered wave after wave after wave. The next 48 minutes was more of the same but even more so, as those well-cinched goggles began making the temples of my head throb with pain. While enduring this, I kept thinking back to those images of Frodeno and Sanders in their last few kilometers, those grimaced faces sustained me to the end. I suffered. I persevered. And… just like Sanders, I lost! I excited the water in 1:32 giving “The Goat” a 4 – second margin of victory, when you take his time of 45:58 and multiply it by 2.
So, what can be learned from such open water shennanigans? Well, for one, even at the age of 57, I am still suceptible to the influence of televised sports. Just as watching the Super Bowl, made me and my friends go out in the Alberta winter to throw the football around and get tackled in the snow 30 years ago, watching the actions of others still inspires me. Secondly, this stunt reaffimed that one of the joys I get from endrance sports is the suffering. Whether it is 800 metre repeats at the track, V02 max intervals on the trainer, or being bitch-slapped by waves in the water, that discomfort, usually…. puts me in my happy place.
As the 2020 Summer Olympics are underway, no doubt millions of Canadians, of all ages, will tune in and get inspired by the on-screen heroics. It’s my hope that as many of these folks as possible take that extra step towards a bit of physical discomfort, since suffering is only a baby step up from that.
