Apr 21 2008
The Beginning
It all started from swimming.
I’m one of the lucky ones. In my short time in this community I’ve seen that many athletes who didn’t experience childhood competitive swimming can’t stand how easy those of us that did make the first triathlon discipline look. Competing from the age of 5 all the way through high school has left me with a great aerobic base, wonderful efficiency in the water and a work ethic and pain tolerance that I’m still proud of.
Swimming is also where the triathlon bug first bit me. I never truly understood the sport back then. I think my mind lumped “triathlon” and “Ironman” together as the same thing. To all of us uneducated swimmers, triathlon seemed like a crazy ultra-masochistic-endurance event only to be dared by the most extreme among us. But still, I bet there isn’t a high school swimmer out there who hasn’t considered the taking on the task. After all, it starts with something we are already quite skilled at. So of course, this strange sport made my list of things-to-do-before-I-die. The desire sat there, filed in the back of my mind alongside other crazy tasks, collecting dust through college.
I spent my college years at Penn State, heavily involved in Naval ROTC. I know this seems strange, but I loved it and devoted myself to the program. I liked the free tuition, the structure and the direction it gave me. ROTC was one of the reasons I didn’t even try to swim in college. I had limited free time and wanted to be able to balance some semblance of college normalcy with my ROTC commitment (i.e. I wanted to drink).
ROTC taught me how to run. At first it was a pain in the ass, training for the 1.5 mile physical fitness test I had to take every semester. But soon enough, my legs caught up with my lungs and I found that I was half decent at it. Before I knew it, running was a source of stress relief, and a reason to justify eating and consuming more “liquid calories”.
Eventually college ended and I was off to the Navy. Through several strange twists and a not-so-direct course, I ended up a Navy Civil Engineer in a Seabee Construction Battalion. I continued to run and logged in miles in some exotic (Japan) and not so exotic (Iraq, Kuwait, the Philippines) places.
My tour with the Seabees ended and I was lucky enough to be assigned to a staff job with flexible hours (and limited oversight) in Southern California.
Enter Laura Kephart.
I’ve known Laura since I was 12 and we have always been the closest of friends. Laura also ended up transplanted from Pennsylvania to So Cal, and when I moved here she had beaten me to one of my neglected must-dos…the sport of Triathlon! (She had become damn good at it too!)
I couldn’t let this stand. I would have to take action. I would set out to let Laura think she had to “convince me” to try a race and I would check triathlon off my to-do list and get back to more important things like drinking and surfing. (Little did I know both would soon be neglected!)
Once Laura twisted my arm I immediately responded by buying a bike and a wetsuit and registering for the 2007 SOMA Half Ironman in Tempe AZ……..45 days out. (Remember, I’m a swimmer that already knew how to run. I had respect for the distance and thought finishing would be challenging but very possible.)
SOMA was awesome.
I had forgotten how wonderful it was to race! Competition had been such a large part of my life growing up that I had been neglecting. I remember slugging through a painful and hot half marathon pondering how good it felt to have the previously unknown void filled again.
And I did unbelievably well. My goal coming into the race was simply to break six hours and never walk. I smashed that (4:53!) and finished 11th of 61 in my age group. I was hooked.
No, not hooked. Addicted. My lifestyle has changed considerably from that point, just 6 months ago. I’ve invested scary amounts of money and time. I’ve lost weight, changed my diet, and drink only occasionally. I pay for a coach and often regret how the whole “Navy” thing gets in the way of my training. I have veins starting to appear in my legs that I never knew existed. I routinely neglect socks, shave my legs and have no problem running around the crowded and college-chick filled Mission Bay Boardwalk shirtless and in tights.
So that’s how I got here. I don’t see myself stopping anytime soon.