How It All Begins...

This is how it starts. Someone at work asks, "Hey Mark, were you in that triathlon that was in the paper?" or "Did you catch the Hawaii Ironman coverage on TV this weekend?"

You ignore constant background hum of fellow runners talking about how their swim sessions are going or how far they went on their weekend bike ride. All the little hints that other people are doing something that you haven't done and they might just be having more fun than you are, keep building. It's a constant drip, drip, drip in the back of your mind that doesn't go away. You try to ignore it, but eventually you know you are going to have to give in and do something about it.

The non-athletes at work assume that because I run, I also do all those other sports or at least can excel at them with minimal training. No amount of denial will convince some people otherwise. I get invited to play soccer with the guys from work because the all know I can run, but just because I can finish a marathon doesn't mean I do anything with a ball. And for the most part it doesn't seem to matter that the only thing I really do is get in the way, just as long as I participate.

Inevitably the question gets asked, "So, when are you doing an Ironman?"

When I was in my early forty's, before I had qualified for the Boston Marathon or had run my first 50 miler, I made a promise to myself that I'd do an Ironman before I turned 50. Back then, I knew that the Ironman was out there, lurking like a vulture waiting for me to become road kill. I also knew that the starting line was a long way away. On life's big tick list of accomplishments, there where so many other things to do first. When asked about the Ironman, I'd tell people that I hadn't gotten stupid enough to think it was a good idea yet.

Over the last couple of years I had made noises about doing a triathlon, but the timing and training never came together. I had done some swim training during the winter in 2003 but once the weather warmed up in the spring, running took over my limited spare time.

During the summer of 2004, I purchased a used tri-bike from a triathlete at work. I suspect that the only reason that Celeste sold it to me was because she knew that I'd take good care of one of her "children".

The first time I got on the Cervelo was for the twenty kilometre commute to work. There's a big difference between a solid mountain bike and a light, twitchy, time trial machine. It can get pretty tricky when the brakes are on one set of bars and the gear shifters are on another. That inaugural trip down Waterdown Road was far more exciting than I had expected, especially when the bike was soon traveling twenty-five km/h on gravity alone.

However, the first time I got down on the aerobars, was amazing. It was perfect, I was meant to be riding this bike. Unfortunately for me, other than a few commuter trips to work during the summer that year, my road training never went any further.

In the fall of 2004, in the coffee shop, after the Saturday morning run, we talked about what our future aspirations were. I mentioned my goal of completing the Ironman before moving up to the next age group. I joked that I thought I might have lost enough brain cells to start training seriously that winter.

Trust a clubbie to remember and hold me to my word.

Early in January, one cold and snowy evening I received an email from fellow Burlington Runners Club (BRC) member and triathlete Janice Solomon, reminding me that the Florida Ironman was only 18 months away and I'd better start training. Boof! That was the first kick in the pants.

Later that week, I get an invite to join Julie Anderton's (the Iron Granny) triathlon group for training on Saturdays. That's the second kick.

I have learned when life presents you with a series of opportunities; it's time to take advantage of them. So, I join them when I can for an hour of Julie's coaching in the pool and a spin class after. It's not very much, but it's a start and it gave me a base to work from. Julie has helped a lot of people to fulfill their Ironman dreams and her small club has a great mix of the area elite runners to back of the pack participants. The best part is that Julie, despite her gruff exterior, really does care about every one of her charges and wants them to perform their very best.

Later in the season, after a July long weekend cycle with BRC club members, I get an invite from Tomoko Tamaoki-Carty to join her Saturday morning ride group. This is the third piece in the puzzle.

I accompany them for their 50-mile jaunts across back roads in Halton, savouring the freedom and exhilaration of the group ride. On these few hours each week I recaptured the joy I felt riding all over the countryside with my brothers when we were kids.

Scheduling conflicts and performance anxiety keep me from signing up and committing to actually doing a race until late in the season. After spending a lot of time looking for a race and more than a few phone calls to Julie, I decide on the Guelph Lakes II, during the long weekend in September. I could hear Julie's eyes rolling from the other side of the phone when I told her I didn't want to do a sprint distance as my first race and that I really wanted to start with an Olympic distance (1.5 km swim, 40 km bike, 10 km run).

All things go well, I check my bike, I have all my gear packed and I follow BRC members Jackie Terry and Duncan Ritchie to the race location in Guelph Ontario. I run into Julie at the transition area who sends an experienced hand over to check how I have laid out my gear. I fuss and bother over what goes where but as I have not done any transition training, I really don't know what I'm fussing over. I don't think I thanked everyone enough for putting up with my nervous fidgeting and fretting, while I tried to get over my pre-race jitters.

I make it down to the beach, telling myself it's just a race, nothing special. The toughest part in any race for me is the last few minutes before the gun goes off. When it does, I try to relax and get into the race. I do my best to use the training I've done. I swim, I ride, then I run.

I finish my first tri-sport event successfully, mostly due to the support of friends and fellow athletes. I even learned a few things in preparation for the big one.

First, if you are swimming alone in a triathlon, you are either in the lead or off course.

Second, if a guy in a kayak is paddling right beside you, it's time to get a map and ask for directions because you are really off course.

Third, the run portion might be my strongest event but it will still feel like the last five miles of a marathon without all the fun bits of the preceding twenty-one miles.

And lastly, I am slower in the transitions than BRC clubbie Margaret Lagden, and I don't have make-up to fix and clothing or jewellery to accessorize as an excuse (I've heard her use this one, honest!)

So, if I miss the odd Beer Run or Saturday morning club run over the next year, you'll know what I'm probably doing. Yes, I'm getting another year older, but I'm also trying to stay young by preparing to complete another lifetime goal.

By Mark G. Collis

Revised: October 11, 2005 .