TALES FROM THE BARSTOOL
By: Clint Lien

"Journey of an Ironman"

Well, I did that.

For the last month I've been anticipating this column. I couldn't do an Ironman triathlon and not write about it, but for the life of me I couldn't think of a hook. What am I supposed to say? It was hard? Of course it was hard. What else is there to say? I could give a blow by blow of the race - and believe me, when more than 2000 swimmers jump in a lake and make for a single buoy about 1,000 meters away, there's a lot of blows-but I think that would bore the hell out of anyone except other triathletes. What could I give to you that came about as a result of me doing this race? I don't know. I really don't know.

Prior to going into the event one of the common themes expressed by other finishers was the spiritual awaking they experienced. The truth is I wanted a taste of that. It sounded like good stuff. I wanted it and I wanted to write about it. I wanted to express it so people out there who couldn't imagine running further than the nearest 7-11 for a pack of Luckys would understand it. But now that I've done this thing, and even waited a week to see if perhaps some kind of deferred epiphany would strike me as I was walking or sitting with a cold Budweiser, I have nothing to say. I didn't learn anything about myself other than the fact that I can't pee while cycling. Should have practiced that one at home.

Maybe one of the reasons that new divinity did not shine on me that day was because finishing was never in question. I knew that I would finish and so when I did all I could think was - "Well, I did that."

Don't get me wrong. It was a great experience. I loved it and would consider doing it again. I'd want to go about two hours faster and I'd want to be a competitor instead of a participant. I'm not daft enough to think I could win the thing, but I think I could beat most guys over forty and I think I'd like that.

Had there been doubt, real doubt, as to whether I'd be able to cross that thin white line that marked the finish, then crossing it may have struck me as something surreal and enlightening, but because there wasn't, it only struck me as something good. The funny thing is there did come a time, a brief period, where finishing was in question. It came at mile 24 of the 26 mile run. My right hamstring started to tighten and twinge. I knew that if it triggered, as it was threatening to do, the question of my finishing would be answered for me. I'd be in the gutter writhing in pain. I concentrated hard to make it go away and it went away. Fifteen minutes later it was all over - a year of training had lead up to that long lonely day.

I did learn one thing though. What I learned was something that I knew intellectually but hadn't really embraced in my life, and that is; if you don't enjoy the journey then the destination isn't worth it.

I really enjoyed this journey - the journey of an Ironman. I'm a better man for it. I've made some good friends. I even fell in love, and I'm certainly healthier. I'll keep the friends. I'm going to keep training and, even though I may never see her again, I liked loving her and I'm lucky I was able to.

I don't know when, or even if I'll do the race again but now it doesn't matter. I'll enjoy the journey if I do. Sounds a bit spiritual I guess. Maybe it is. I don't know. I do know that doing the race was a good thing. It's hard to do good things.

And because I know someone is going to ask - I went 11:34:07.

Reactions? Comments? Write me at barfly@netlistings.com