Who in their right mind would willingly enter a triathlon? This question ran through my head one year ago, when the triathlon club’s first race opened to the Syracuse community. Little did I know that my research had only just begun. Last week I was suckered into an idea more left field than ultimate Frisbee at the Olympics: throwing a journalist with zero athletic ability into last Saturday’s triathlon ring.

My own personal disclaimer: I did not train for this event. That being said, let the games begin.

Round One: The swim

I knew this was going to be my worst event. I was placed with four other female competitors: Hannah Volpi, a freshman forestry engineer major at the State University of New York College of Environmental Science and Forestry, and team ‘Hard Core,’ a group of three freshmen from Booth 2.

Since my only swimming experience stems from splashing around in the frigid lakes back home, I sought advice from a nearby triathlete. He gave me a breakdown of the basics, and then asked if I had remembered to bring water goggles and a pool cap. I admitted to not owning either.

I then asked him if I had made a mistake in bringing my only bathing suit: a scant two-piece bikini. His response was an eruption of laughter.

I wasn’t laughing 15 minutes later though, when my spotter yelled to me that my top had completely shifted mid-race. Not only was I falling behind via the backstroke, but I had just provided a free peep show to the world.

When it was over, I weakly lifted myself out of the pool to learn I had completed only 13 laps in 10 minutes. A representative from ‘Hard Core’ bemoaned her ‘pathetic’ 30. Ugh.

Round Two: The bike

So I figured biking would be a walk in the park compared to the last train wreck. At least here I knew what I was doing. They assigned us to three stationary bikes, and I bore down on mine like a woman in labor. For a few minutes, I believed I (ITALICS HERE)owned(ITALICS END HERE) that bike. Then the numbing soreness began, infecting my entire lower region with a lead-like deadness. The real triathletes tried to coach us, yelling, ‘Keep those legs spinning!’ and ‘Keep it above 90 rpm!’, but nothing could take my mind off of the pain. Luckily, I finished on par with the other competitors, completing over six miles by the time our 10 minutes were up. Two down, one to go.

Round Three: The run

I looked forward to the running, but I wasn’t sure how well it would go. I attempted to walk off lingering soreness in the few minutes allotted before hopping onto the treadmill. This was it: my final test of dexterity in this assignment. As we revved up our treadmills, three of us continued to increase our speed so that our final distance would earn us higher points. Out of my peripheral vision I noticed that Volpi continued to up her speed.

‘I felt like I was going to fly off the treadmill,’ she told me later. I would not have shed any tears since I felt obligated to keep up with her. My chest continued to tighten after locking into a 7.4 mile per hour pace. I should probably reveal that I quit two minutes early, but give me a break. I had to make sure I lived to tell this tale.

Even as the last place winner, I’d have to say this experience was more empowering than embarrassing. As much as I enjoyed the post-ceremony at Chuck’s, however, I doubt I’ll ever do it again. The triathlon club was able to raise $420, partly at my expense, which will be used to sponsor their trip to Nationals in Reno, Nev., this year. If there is one thing I’ve learned from this trial, it would be to tread carefully in deep waters before exceeding the threshold of your tie-dyed bikini.

Published on February 25, 2006 at 12:00 pm