Outdoors/Adventure

Trying the triathlon: How to make the blood, sweat and tears pay off

The night before my triathlon I got a call from my parents. They wanted to know what exactly I was doing again.

"It's a 1.2-mile swim," I explained.

"One mile swim!" my stepmom repeated to my dad. She then asked, "How long is the bike, your father wants to know?" "56 miles," I said, and she repeated. I went on, "and a half marathon. So, a 13.1 mile run."

The response was both loving and damning. "Your father says that's meshugganah", she declared. That means crazy in Yiddish.

My dad is right. There is something meshugganah about triathlons. That's also part of their allure. It is a slow journey from considering a physical goal unattainable to actually achieving it, whether the race is a beginner's "Try a Tri" or a veteran triathlete's Ironman. Bodies that have housed us for a lifetime, can do things we didn't know. Triathlons allow us to surprise ourselves.

Maybe that's why we keep coming back for more, and why so many Alaskans are signing up. Nationwide, triathlons are increasingly popular and accessible. Alaskan races such as the Gold Nugget triathlon in Anchorage mirror this trend.

Many triathlons, many styles

There is no-one-size-fits-all triathlon in Alaska. The outdoor course that works for the Eagle River Triathlon in June won't suit Fairbanks in March. Races are adapted to work with outdoor conditions, and there's one race in Fort Greely that is 100 percent indoors. Seward's Polar Bear Pink Cheeks Triathlon in early May places the swim last because racers are not, in fact, polar bears, and Homer's Ski to Sea Triathlon in March ditches the swim altogether in favor of skis. Many races offer a course for kids.

ADVERTISEMENT

The most popular triathlon in Alaska -- with 1,453 finishers this year -- is the women-only Gold Nugget in Anchorage, which takes place every year the Sunday after Mother's Day. This "sprint" course is a 500-yard swim (10 laps), a 12 mile bike, and 4.1 mile run.

"People like me didn't even know there were sprint triathlons out there," said Sheila Swanson, president of the race's board of directors. "It's a target or a goal that's possible to achieve."

The Gold Nugget is open to women of all athletic abilities, including girls at least 10 years old. Every year, more than a third of the racers are new sign-ups.

Art of signing up

The 31-year-old Gold Nugget is so popular that signing up is part of the competition. In the past few years, the race was full within 20 minutes of registration opening. In 2014, it took only five minutes. Race directors are now perfecting the art of predicting the attrition rate so they can accommodate as close to the 1,500 person capacity as possible. The best way to sign up? Know exactly what time registration opens and hit refresh on your browser until you see that button appear. Registration is typically in March and more details will be available at the Gold Nugget website.

Swanson says completing a triathlon brings a tremendous feeling of accomplishment, and this is an important feature of the Gold Nugget. "We've all had that feeling of crossing the finish line. There's joy, there's tears."

Melissa Strauss posted on the Gold Nugget Facebook page how she'd fallen through ice as a child and had also been in a bicycling accident. Water and cycling still cause anxiety, but she confronts her fears when she races the Gold Nugget. "The most gratifying part of the race was hitting the finish line, not just because I finished but because my 80-year-old father (who has stage-three Alzheimer's) thought I had won the race, and could remember how terrified I was of bikes and water growing up," Strauss wrote. "So if you should talk to my dad and he tells you his daughter won…Just go with it ;)".

The Tri the Kenai race in Soldotna was originally scheduled for June 8, but was postponed to Sept. 7 due to the Funny River fire. Some 325 people signed up and 200 actually raced. My friend and I signed up for the intermediate course -- a 1,000-yard swim, 20-mile bike, and 6.2-mile run.

Despite stunning weather and a strong run of silvers, we had a Soldotna campground mostly to ourselves. We ate a brown-bag dinner by the Kenai River, watching fish jump in the green river while thinking out loud about the course. Race day dawned bright and 37 degrees, warming as the sun rose, an ideal fall day. Dew coated our bikes.

Tri the Kenai had a leisurely start time compared with many other races. Waves didn't start until 10 a.m.; mine was predicted to kick off 40 minutes later, while other racers started as late as 1 p.m. This is another interesting feature of triathlons, and a comfort for new racers or slow racers like me. Since there is limited space in the pool, participants race in rounds. One set of swimmers will start, while the next set stands hugging their arms next to the pool waiting to get in 20 minutes later. The staggered starts help create for each racer a sense of anonymity, no matter your ability.

I set up my transition station, the place racers briefly stop between segments including a bike and stand. It is a highly personalized space, intuitive to each individual. My friend had written a check list on an index card to remind her the order in which to put things on after the swim (Pants, Socks, Sneakers, Bra, Shirt, Helmet was carefully written in bold sharpie).

The transition set up is an art, and puts me -- a relatively non-competitive person -- in the spirit of trying to shave off seconds. I unlace my shoelaces and pull my sneakers a little wider, laying one sock lightly on top of each set of laces. I unwrap two bars and lay them carefully on a towel, cleverly saving myself the nanosecond it might take to peel plastic away. I know I'll need that moment during the bike ride, as the racers with fancier bikes and burlier thighs breeze past me.

The race itself was gorgeous -- and so quiet. Triathlons have some whooping of spectators, and the helpful directives from volunteers telling you which way to go and what to do, but most of the race takes place in your head. During the swim, you hear equal parts splashing and a mute wall of water against one ear. The whoosh of cars and other cyclists occasionally saying "passing" takes up the bike ride; and the run is almost entirely the monologue in your head as you shave off minutes, then miles, until the finish. The Kenai course was lovely because it was a trail run, making the abrupt transition from cycling to running much easier on my feet than it is on pavement. A quiet, wooded run was much more enjoyable.

Triathlons in Alaska are among the first outdoor events in the spring, and a great goal to set as you're thinking about what to do over the winter. They are attainable for many ability levels, and provide built-in variability in training. Run, swim and bike with a friend.

As my father might point out, triathlons are also a little crazy. In my opinion, this is part of what makes them fun.

Dates for 2015 triathlons haven't been set yet, but you can keep an eye out here.

Alli Harvey lives, works and plays in Anchorage.

Alli Harvey

Alli Harvey lives in Palmer and plays in Southcentral Alaska.

ADVERTISEMENT