Trial by Combat

This article was originally printed on trinewbies.com

G.K. Chesterson once said, “a man must love something very much if he not only practices it without any hope of fame and money, but even practices it without any hope of doing it well.” So it is with me and triathlon.

I am a triathlete because every time I go out to race, I find something out about myself.

In the Middle Ages, there was a ritual called trial by combat. An accused could face off in combat against a champion. It was believed if the accused was innocent, God would see that the accused prevailed. Triathlon is my trial by combat. My accusers? Everyone who ever made fun of me, didn’t believe in me, told me I was too slow, too fat, too weak, or just flat out told me I’d never be able to do it – including myself. So each time I plunge into the water at the start of a race, I enter my own personal trial by combat. And each time I cross the finish-line, I emerge victorious.

You see, triathlon has taught me the single most powerful force in this mortal universe is the power of the human will. We have all been in a race situation where we want to stop. Where each pedal stroke or each stride takes everything we have, and that sag wagon is getting closer. Or that first-aid station. And it would just be so easy to lay down and be done with the race. But we don’t. You have probably asked yourself, as I have, “why am I doing this?” “No one will know if I don’t finish this one race.”

Why do we keep going in these situations? Professional triathletes pull out of races all the time, so why are the midpackers so reluctant? Maybe it is because pro triathletes have the luxury of racing for money. We in the midpack don’t. We aren’t racing for a cut of the purse. We don’t need to place in order to maintain our endorsement deal. So, when someone asks us why we put our bodies through this, we can’t say “it’s my job.” Our answers are deeper, fuzzier, and more personal. So, we press on, powered only by our sheer, indomitable, willpower.