On Sept. 18, I attempted my first half-Ironman triathlon (that’s 1.2 miles of swimming, 56 miles of biking, and a half-marathon run) at the beautiful Timberman course in Laconia, New Hampshire—and what a journey it was to get there.
To begin with a bit of context, I joined the Dartmouth Triathlon Team on a whim last winter, when a friend of mine added me to the team’s GroupMe. That friend never ended up attending a single team practice, but somehow I found myself braving the bitter Hanover cold on my way to my first ever swim practice. I couldn’t find the women’s locker room and arrived half an hour late without a swim cap or goggles or any clue about what I was doing. After just one arduous lap of swimming a pitiful attempt at freestyle (as in one length of the pool, not even a there-and-back), I was winded and needed to catch my breath. It’s an understatement to say that I felt incredibly out of place.
But fortunately, Coach Jim helped me learn how to improve my stroke, how to take breaths, how to keep my body from twisting over itself, how to keep my arms stretched way out in front, and how to love to swim. I completed a 50-yard lap without taking a break. And then I did my first 100-yard. And my first 200-yard. And during our indoor triathlon at the end of 21W, I swam 400 yards for the first time ever and was by far the slowest swimmer on the team. But it didn’t matter, because I did it.
It was admittedly crazy to sign up for a half-Ironman race when each leg on its own felt like a grueling challenge. But I was fortunate to work with Jim to put together a training plan that worked its way up from manageable distances, flexible enough to accommodate my full-time work schedule and an unplanned two-week-long training hiatus when I broke my toe.
I trained this summer while living and working at the Moosilauke Ravine Lodge, which had its ups and downs, literally and figuratively. Being located on one of New Hampshire’s 4000 footers meant it was impossible to find flat running routes, so my confidence in my ability to handle hills while running soared. Constrained by rural mountain roads, the shortest bike loop I could complete — a ride “around the block,” so to speak — was almost 50 miles long with over 4000 feet of elevation gain, so I was forced to become comfortable with long rides.
But swimming was the leg of the race I was most worried about, as it was also the most difficult to train for. I tried to drive to the Hanover pool about once a week, but the two hours of driving weren’t always feasible, and I didn’t feel super comfortable going on solo open water swims. This meant that I ended up cramming my swim training into the three weeks before the race when I would be back on campus with access to the Alumni pool, and as a non-swimmer, it wasn’t always easy to trust the process. I found myself comparing my pace to the swim cutoff time, wondering whether I would get pulled from the water.
Race weekend arrived sooner than I expected after a whirlwind first week of classes. I drove to Laconia on Saturday morning, meeting up with teammates and some of our incredible supporters for a short warm-up and the athlete check-in meeting. It was reassuring to see athletes of all ages and identities, whom I overheard speaking about traveling from all over—they came from so many walks of life, and if they could do the race, then so could I. It was with this resolute attitude that I tuckered in for a decent night’s sleep, ready to face the race ahead of me the next day.
Race Day
One 4:45 a.m. wakeup and Dunkin pre-race pit stop later, I found myself rushing to set up my transition station, top off my bike tires with air, squeeze my way into my wetsuit, and battle the long port-a-potty lines before the race began. It was a rush of a morning, but by 7 a.m., I was running into the beautiful waters of Opechee Bay while a beautiful sunrise illuminated the surrounding mountains.
* * *
After all of the stress, the long drives to the Hanover pool, the cold mornings of swimming through choppy water, the swim ended up being my favorite leg of the race. I felt confident in my stroke and mentally comfortable being in the water. When the water got crowded at turn buoys, I would switch to breaststroke to help with my sighting. I told myself that I would finish when I finished, and I was at peace with being in the water for as long as it would take. To my surprise, I finished far before the cutoff time, in a sense having already accomplished a feat that would have been incomprehensible to me just a few months prior.
Sophie prepares for the first leg of the IRONMAN 70.3 Timberman, standing aside athletes in the chute leading to the water.
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And I was on the bike! The ride felt easy compared to my mountain climbs this summer, and I was able to hydrate and fuel myself well. I did down an entire bottle of water during the first 10 miles, which forced me to stop at an aid station to refill, but I think this helped me with recovery from the swim. I made it through just fine without purchasing any fancy gels or snacks for the race; I just brought along the snacks I had access to in my dorm room since that was all I had been consuming for the training process. Forcing myself to continuously be eating was tough, but I knew I would need the fuel later on. I barely noticed the elevation gain and was able to enjoy the riding experience—except for the truck I almost crashed into which had decided to pull a three-point turn on the state highway.
Coasting back into transition, I felt exhausted but excited to have made it to the run. Whenever I visualized my worst-case race day scenarios, I had imagined myself getting tripped up by the swimming or the biking legs, as I had no experience whatsoever with swim or bike racing before joining the team. I thought the run would feel like a treat after the first two legs of the race, yet jogging out that day I was sluggish and slow. I found myself counting down the distance until I would reach the next aid station, where I permitted myself to walk, drink water and Gatorade, and toss some ice cubes in my hat to keep me cool. At one aid station about halfway through I needed to stop for a bathroom break, and so I took time to eat a banana for more fuel. I was fading, but I had to keep going.
My savior during the run ended up being Beth, a 60-something-year-old rock star who was completing her second half ironman and fifth overall triathlon of the race season. She asked me about my Dartmouth kit while we were running next to each other, and I remembered that she had passed me during the bike ride. She would tell me that I should be running faster than her, since I was younger, and I would take off ahead and eventually slow down and she’d catch up to me again and the whole scene would repeat. In those moments when I was moving slowly, she would encourage me along and rejuvenate my energy. The last time we met each other was around mile 11 of the race—from then on, I was speeding towards the finish, ready to complete this impossible goal of mine.
I raced the final mile through the streets of Laconia with a goofy smile plastered across my face. I felt so proud of myself for sticking with a race that for weeks I didn’t know if I could finish—and that some of my friends and family had thought I was crazy for attempting. Not only had I completed the race, but I had raced smart, without pushing myself beyond a sustainable pace, finishing strong with gas left in the tank.
In the future, I could see myself attempting another race of this distance and pushing myself to race my best possible time. But I’ve realized that I don’t think it would be feasible to train for another race like this while taking classes, since having an off term this summer provided me with the flexibility I needed to commit to the training program.
I also realized that the achievement of high-clout races like this one really boils down to resources, more than endurance or drive. You have to be able to invest so much money and so much time in order to complete a half-Ironman race, and I am incredibly privileged to be in a position to do so, supported by the Dartmouth Triathlon Team. I also know that so many more people would be able to participate in a race like the Timberman, if only the sport was more accessible, which leaves me feeling bittersweet about the accomplishment.
I need to give another shout out to the incredible people who made the race as fantastic of an experience as possible. Thank you to Ben and Evelyn and Annaliese, the Dartmouth Tri-Team tri-hards who filled in for the coaches as our biggest race day supporters. Thank you to Beth and all of the other badass athletes who inspired me during the race, especially the phenomenal women who cheered each other on whenever we passed each other on the course. Thank you to the residents of Laconia, who set out water bottles and turned on their sprinklers and blasted music from their porches and motivated us along the course. The unforgettable kindness of the supporters and volunteers will stick with me.
Finally, I accomplished this race while being far from the most committed member of the Dartmouth Triathlon Team. Joining the team last winter (instead of in the fall like most ‘25s), I struggled to fit in with the team socially; consequently, I had trouble engaging in many of the team activities. I only attended practices last year that felt comfortable and accessible to me, like runs and spins, and maybe the occasional strength session. Embarrassingly enough, I’ve never been on a team bike ride. I’ve never gotten close to completing an entire workout at swim practice. Don’t ask me what UVRC stands for, because in all honesty, I’m not quite sure what that is. So to the ‘26s and other tri team newcomers, if you see me at practice, I may be wearing my 70.3 T-shirt, but there’s a strong chance I’m figuring things out for myself just as much as any of you.
Dartmouth Triathlon Team celebrates its athletes. (Left to right: Ben Levesque '24, Sophie Lewis '25, Joe Gyorda '22, Carlos Ohler-Garcia '24, Elena Luria '25, Annaliese OuYang '23)
About the Author: Sophie Lewis is a ‘25 from Newton, Massachusetts. She studies Earth Sciences and History and is interested in environmental law.
I plastered a smile on my face, looked up at the cloudless sky and sparkling lake and thought, “I am so lucky to be able to do this.” It really helped. I felt joy radiate through my body to give that extra push through the last few miles.
I signed up for Timberman in April and trained over the summer in California. This was my first Half Iron Man and second triathlon ever after Season Opener in the spring. The week prior to the race, I managed to feel both exhausted from week 1 madness and antsy from the taper. I got increasingly nervous for the race, having expected to feel a lot better the week of.
I drove to Laconia on Friday night where I met my Dad and my boyfriend, Andrew, who came to support my race. On Saturday, we drove the run course and parts of the bike course. It helped with my peace of mind to be able to visualize my exact trajectory for race day, including swim in, bike out, and run out from the transition area.
Although I was feeling pretty poorly on Saturday, I woke up Sunday feeling energized- –a reminder that good sleep two nights before the race is more important than the night of. Dad and Andrew made me a fantastic breakfast burrito (I highly recommend this as a race morning breakfast). Setting up at transition was straightforward. I felt some nerves, but mostly genuine excitement for a race I had been looking forward to for so long. I thought about the day as just another “unlimited energy day,” a day in which I get to move my body and enjoy being outside.
(From left to right: Ryan Brown '23, Carlos Ohler-Garcia '24, Elena Luria '25, Robin Sandell '23)
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It took a little effort to push to the front of the swim lineup, but I’m very glad I did. I went out a bit fast but quickly got my breath back under control and settled into a sustainable pace. Finding someone with good navigation at the right pace to draft off of proved tricky, so I mostly swam by myself. I got little glimpses as I swam of a gorgeous sunrise over Opechee Bay. It went by remarkably fast. I ran into transition with Andrew screaming, “You’re in first, you’re in first!”
The bike was the best leg of the race for me. I was aiming for 18 mph and averaged 19.6 mph. As a newbie to biking and not having a power meter to rely on during training, I really focused on maintaining a consistent power over the crests of the hills and turns. I also was able to get down quite a few solids early in the ride, which was essential to having energy on the run. Somehow my body seemed to forget how to swallow food. Coaching myself through swallowing a bite of a snack bar while barreling down the road was a fine moment.
Passing people was difficult because, especially early in the course, there were a lot of bikes on the road often bunched up around the base of hills. I took the effort to pass people if it allowed me to maintain a consistent power, even if they ended up passing me later. Thanks to my concerted efforts at hydration, I had to dash to the porta potties in T2. Unfortunately, the girl who ended up in first place was ahead of me by roughly the amount of time it takes to strip off a tri kit and frantically pee in a porta potty.
The beginning of the run felt really solid. I continued to eat goos every couple miles and drink water and Gatorade at every aid station. This involved chucking Gatorade in the general direction of my mouth as I ran and hoping some went in. The loop around the lake was pretty fast, with punchy uphills and long extended downhills during which I really tried to pick up momentum. By mile 9 or so, my body was really hurting and I was slowing down. Based on training I had expected to reach this point a lot earlier in the run.
At this moment I returned to my “Why’s”:
Why am I training for and running this race?
I plastered a smile on my face, looked up at the cloudless sky and sparkling lake and thought, “I am so lucky to be able to do this.” It really helped. I felt joy radiate through my body to give that extra push through the last few miles.
* * *
Robin crosses the finish line of the IRONMAN 70.3 Timberman, second in her age group (F18-24).
I was euphoric and relieved to cross the finish line! My time was 5 hours :29 mins., 30 minutes faster than my goal time, and I finished second in my age group. A slot at the Finland World Championships next August was the cherry on top. This day was truly everything I could have hoped for. I felt overwhelmed by gratitude for an able body, for the privilege to train and race, and for all the loving people in my life who supported me in reaching this goal. A special shout out to Coach Jim, my Mom and Dad, Andrew, and the Dartmouth tri- team whom I adore.
There is always room for improvement, but this is just the beginning of my triathlon journey. I am absolutely in love with this sport and this community of athletes and cannot wait to see where it will take me.
* * *
Takeaways
Trust my training. I got nervous during the taper when I felt slow and tired instead of energized. It took a little while to shake off the cobwebs from the taper, but once they were shaken off, my body had the fitness and knew exactly what it was doing.
Control what I can and do not stress about what I can’t. This is a classic lesson but cannot be overstated. Every time I felt stress arising in my body before and during the race, I quietly asked myself, is this over something I can control or not? If it was, I methodically went about making the necessary change to set myself up for success. If it was not, I took a deep breath and moved my focus elsewhere.
Have a list of “Why’s.” Training for and completing a half iron man brings with it many moments of physical pain, moments when everything in my body was screaming for me to stop. In these moments, I needed to return to the reasons I initially signed up for this race. I wanted to see what my body was capable of and experience the very edge of my physical and psychological capabilities. I wanted to dive deeply into a sport that brings me so much genuine joy and satisfaction when I reach my goals. I wanted to celebrate the gift of an able body. I wanted to honor those in my life who do not have this gift.
Love and gratitude are my greatest motivators. I know this sounds cheesy, but cultivating these two emotions in my training and on race day gave me a more profound reason to push my body than achieving my physical goals. I was motivated by my love for my twin sister, which overwhelmed me in the most physically painful moments. All throughout my training and on race day, I kept looking around and pinching myself: “I am out here in a beautiful place doing a sport that I love. How lucky am I.” (Pictured: Robin and her father, pre-race)
Robin Sandell is a Dartmouth ‘23 from Palo Alto, CA majoring in philosophy. She's a Dartmouth tri team enthusiast and also love to rock climb, backpack, paint, and travel.
This February 15th-28th, Dartmouth Club Sports is running the Club Sports Challenge: a two-week window during which teams raise as much money for their organizations as possible, with some additional fundraising incentives on the line. It’s an exciting event as it helps our young team grow and raises the vast majority of our annual budget. If you've donated in the past, are considering donating this year, or just want to see how this part of our team runs, we figured we'd discuss what exactly the Club Sports Challenge entails this year and what even just a little bit of support allows us to do.
This year, the Dartmouth Triathlon Team has three main goals:
Raise $7,500 to support financial assistance, gear purchases, and race subsidies!
Have 15 donors increase their gift from last year.
Have 8 NEW donors during the challenge
We earn an additional $2800 if we reach all of our goals as well. We have done an amazing job of this in years past and are looking to continue our streak.
As we celebrate the 50th anniversary of Dartmouth becoming co-ed, this year’s program is themed FORevHER. Triathlon is proud of its history as a co-ed team. Since our founding, Dartmouth Triathlon has been full of amazing women, and next year we have all-female captains. This year, we will be highlighting two of our star graduates: Katie Clayton ‘18, and Sonia Rowley ‘19. Stay tuned throughout the challenge for updates on the incredible things these two have achieved during their tenures on the team and the short time after their graduation.
Club Sports has generously offered to match the first $25,000 raised by all teams on a first come, first serve basis. Whoever is able to coordinate their donations early in the challenge will end up taking the majority of that incentive. However, any amount of support we get, even if only a couple dollars, would allow us to accomplish more and continue to grow our team. Whether a donation be made entirely up-front or set up as a smaller recurring donation throughout the year, any donation would be appreciated and qualify toward the Club Sports Challenge goals if made during the Challenge period. As one of the newest and fastest-growing teams at Dartmouth, our gear supply has been outgrown by the size of the team, and with fewer races throughout the pandemic we've been using our fundraising money to buy new equipment. This increases accessibility and inclusivity on our team, which is essential to our mission. While the milestones below are in no way indicative of how the Dartmouth Triathlon Team would utilize a particular donation, we figured we would offer some insight into the more common items we purchase, and how support at any level really goes a long way in supporting our team.
$2 can buy a resistance band to get good glute workouts in virtual strength practice!
$10 can buy a high-visibility running vest to keep us safe during evening workouts!
$25 can cover financial assistance for one team member’s termly dues!
$50 can buy a new helmet to keep team members safe on bike rides!
$100 can buy a bike trainer for winter bike training!
$150 can buy a wetsuit to keep us warm for cold open-water swims!
$500 can buy us a new team bike to lend out for team members to get on the road!
With all that being said, if you're as excited about the Club Sports Challenge as we are and want to help the Triathlon Team out, we really appreciate it! The Club Sports Challenge runs from February 15-28, 2022, so aim to donate in that window so your support can help us earn bonus funding! If you'd like to donate to support the Dartmouth Triathlon Team, you can do so at [this link] from now until the 28th!
As a little girl, I grew up watching the Timberman triathlon in the Lakes Region of NH. I wasn’t a die-hard triathlon fan, or really familiar with the sport to begin with, but I watched because the course used to take triathletes quite literally through my backyard. I watched them saunter (or hobble) by each year with admiration. “Maybe someday I’ll do the sprint triathlon!” I thought to myself, watching my older brother win a jar of maple syrup in the sprint. “I guess I could do that if it meant I got maple syrup…” I continued to daydream. But just as I became old enough to participate, the race was discontinued. My Timberman daydreams ended. Or so I thought!
Years after my brother’s prize maple syrup had been consumed, I arrived at Dartmouth in pursuit of learning new things, loving a new community, and opportunities to challenge myself. On Tri Team, I found all of those things. Through a bizarre freshman year, my closest friendships formed with my fellow ‘24s on the team. On one evening out of *many* that we spent studying in Collis, Katie Walther ‘24 exclaimed “TIMBERMAN’S BACK!” as she read her email and reminded us of earlier conversations about racing together in NH. After cheering for a moment, my eyes widened when she mentioned that there would be no sprint race, only half-Ironman (70.3mi) distance: 1.2mi swim, 56mi bike, and 13.1mi run. I decided to go with the ambiguous “I’ll consider it...”
A few days later, with the unwavering declaration of support from our coaches, 15 of us were signed up to race 70.3 miles of slow-twitch fun. At that point, I couldn’t even wrap my head around a half-Ironman distance race.
Throughout the summer, I spent many hours each week swimming, biking, and running in preparation for the race. I loved experiencing “home” in a new way, exploring it as part of my training. Each week, I’d run track nights and bike hill repeats with my local triathlon club, Granite State Endurance Project, as well as swim with neighbors and family by my side.
As race day arrived, I felt prepared but nervous. With the encouragement and training plan provided by Coach Jim and Coach Katie, I had no doubt I could finish, but I grew apprehensive about timing, since my training bike rides were much slower than my goal race pace. When I finally toed the line, with Raif Olson ‘24 and Vaishnavi Katragadda ‘24 literally by my side, the day unfolded quickly, and each time I thought about what we were doing, I couldn’t help but smile (race photos prove it!). On the bike, I was able to shave an hour off of the time I had estimated for myself, and it was wonderful to see my teammates along the course. When I passed the sign for mile 50, I smiled in relief knowing that I had biked farther than I’d ever done before, and I felt capable of picking up the pace for the remaining 6mi back to transition. Once I laced up my sneakers and ate a few of my transition Sour Patch Kids, I was so excited to finish up the race in the run, the race leg that feels most at home to me. Through the misty 13.1mi, my legs felt like Jell-O, but I chugged along, glancing at the waves in Lake Opechee whenever I snapped back into reality. In the last 3mi, I realized I had energy left to give and kicked into the finish line. I’m not sure if I was more excited for the finish line or the finish line hugs awaiting me, as my speedy teammates so kindly cheered me in.
There’s a whole lot about my pandemic freshmen year experience that I could not explain to my young self, who sat by the side of the road cheering for Timberman athletes. But if I could explain to her that one day I’d be racing that realllllyyy long race and loving everything and everyone about it, I think she’d be pretty proud.
About the Author
Evelyn Hatem is a ‘24 from Bow, NH. She’s interested in environmental policy with the intent to major in Environmental Studies and Economics. She wishes that all race aid stations had Slushees, and when not SBR-ing, she loves to spend time hiking, dancing, and singing in the shower.
You might recognize us from such scenes as sigma delt hydration pong and Thursday night light side foco. You wonder, unable to avert your gaze from our obnoxiously large watches and varsity lookalike gear, who are these mysterious beautiful people, and why do they pretend to like working out? The answer: we do it to win.
As any informed citizen likely knows, the Dartmouth Triathlon Team maintained its two year reign of victory in the collegiate division of the Max Performance Season Opener Race last Sunday. Hugs were exchanged, dabs were executed and instagram likes reached new highs. Special shoutouts go to Matthew "lightning" Goff - second place in the men's collegiate division - and Katie "YASSSSS" Clayton - first in collegiate women's - as well as our first-time racers: Anna, Emma, Russell, Hunter, Katherine and Moises.
Though the race did not go exactly as planned, it was an exercise in flexibility and preparedness as well as an opportunity for team bonding. Due to 30 degree windchill and steady rainfall, the event was changed to a duathlon with a modified bike route less than an hour before it was scheduled to start. Some competitors would be thrown off by this last minute twist, but not Dartmouth Tri Team! Thanks to our incredible captains and coaches, we maintained positive attitudes, put on a few extra layers, and got ready to race.
Against all odds, all of our team members completed the race with only minor complaints! Specifically, our shoes were wet, we had to pay for coffee at the post-race tent, and the wet suit dance-off competition was unjustly rigged. In spite of these tribulations, we had a fantastic experience and are now equipped to handle whatever weather conditions may present themselves at future races.
Several huge thank-you's for our success at the season opener are owed to our ever-faithful captains Abiah, Katie, Valentina and Brandt, our endlessly supportive coaches Jeff, Jim and Elliott, and our incredibly gracious hosts, Shelley, Jonathan and Felix Isaacson. Thanks to them, we had a great weekend and we can't wait for our next race this summer!
SBR, Fiona
About the Author
Fiona Bowen is an '18 on the triathlon team studying mechanical engineering. When she's not training with the team she loves to ski, travel and hang out with family and friends.
The same weekend that some of the other Tri-team members were competing in the Patriot Half Ironman, I went to New York to compete in the Syracuse Half Ironman. In short, race day did not go as I had hoped when I was training for the race. I was in such bad shape after the race that I needed to take a quick trip to the emergency room to get an IV and replace some of the fluids I had lost. There were, however, some really important lessons to be learned from that day, and given the chance, I will be racing another Half Ironman. In no way do I think of that race as a defeat.
Talking to coach Jim before the race, he reminded me and all of the others training for Half Ironman that race day conditions can put down pretty much anyone, regardless of how much they train or prepare, but there is a difference between hearing that and experiencing that of course, and I think some part of me assumed that would never happen.
I did what I could to prepare for each of the challenges that faced me.
It was very hot, so l put extra water near my bike.
It was very sunny, so I put on sunscreen at the beginning of the race.
It was a very hilly course, so I had done as many of the hill workouts that Jim had suggested as was possible, for both the bike and the run.
I had had problems with bonking during training, so I made a point of eating food whenever possible in the bike (Even when their only flavor was spearmint! Ewwwww!).
I viewed the course beforehand online to make sure I understand where it would make the most sense to push and when I should take it easy.
The swim went pretty well. The course was more or less an out-and-back, and I was happy to see that I was catching up with some of the waves of swimmers that had left ahead of me. Partially because of some wind and waves on the leg back, my time was slower than I had been aiming for, but my most important goal had been to come out of the water feeling ready to bike, and I did. I jogged over to transition, taking advantage of the wetsuit ‘peelers’ that the race provides (a handy feature), and got ready for the bike. Stupidly, I forgot to eat the food that I had left in transition for myself (turns out if I want to remember something after a swim and with all of that adrenaline going through me, it needs to be pretty obvious. Having my food half-covered was enough to wipe away all thought of it). The beginning of the bike course was downhill, and I got a good start with my shoes already clipped in and ready to go.
One of the biggest challenges of Syracuse in my mind is to not get burnt out on the hills in the bike. After a short downhill starting at transition, there are about twelve miles of the course that are mostly steady uphill. There’s a strong temptation to try and power it up the hills, but you risk bonking hard for the rest of the race, so I took it easy, passing those that I could, but not going my hardest. It was starting to become apparent as we got to the flat middle of the course that sun was going to be an issue. There wasn’t much cloud cover and there were essentially no trees to provide meaningful shade. The temperature was already rising into the nineties as well, and I was sweating out a lot of water. I grabbed food at each of the stations. I also did my best to hit the painted plywood “trash target” that the race supporters had set up (I missed really badly. Turns out aiming is difficult while on a moving bike!). Honestly, I loved the bike. The course was beautiful, and it was exhilarating to be putting my training to work and to feel like I was in charge of the situation. It didn’t hurt that I had started in the last wave so there were always people to pass!
The first twinge of discomfort that had me concerned was when I got back to transition before the run. I got back to my spot feeling tired but ready to run. Then I tried to put on my shoes. I reached quickly down toward my feet only to feel a quick cramp shoot up the back of my leg. I’ve never really had cramps get better from doing more physical activity so that seemed like a bad sign, but I told myself that I was probably just tight after the bike and started running. I made it a few miles running slowly before I had to walk for a bit up one of the steeper hills. The next time that I started running, I only made it a little ways before my legs cramped badly enough that I almost fell over. This was NOT a happy moment, and it was the beginning of what was essentially a forced march for the rest of the race. I would jog until my legs cramped badly enough that I had to stop (usually about a hundred yards) and then walk for a while until the cramp calmed down enough that I could start again. Looking around me, I saw that a large portion of the people there were on the same routine. I have never seen so many people WALK almost all of a RUNNING race. My time for the run was almost twice what it should have been, which meant that I was in the heat and under the sun for longer than I hard bargained for. I could already feel a sunburn that would amount to essentially to second degree burns over a large portion of my shoulders. Wear more sunscreen than seems reasonable!!!
When I finally did make it to the finish line, I forced myself to run the last bit and fought back tears that came from a mix of pain and elation. I made two very crucial mistakes at that point: I did not drink gatorade right away, and I sat down. Never sit down: you might not be able to get back up. When it came time to get back to the car, I stood up from my seat to find that I was starting to feel nauseous and that walking very far was not an option. My mom had to ask the park staff to drive us in a cart back to the car. The following ride ended with a stop at a hotel and then a stop in the ER, as I kept feeling worse instead of better. All they had to do was give me fluids but it was important that they did. Because I felt sick, I couldn’t keep down gatorade. Without gatorade, I couldn’t replenish electrolytes, which kept up the cramps, which made me feel sick. Moral of the story: drink the Gatorade early!!! Make sure that someone is there for you after the race! I didn’t really realize how bad my situation was. I was just focused on getting home and going to sleep but I really wasn’t thinking straight. Having someone there to check on you and take care of you if you are in bad shape is not just nice. It’s a good safety measure.
I was hesitant to write a post about this race because I didn’t want it to come across as negative. I want it to be a reminder that race day is not always what you planned for, but that that is okay. I am proud of finishing and working through the pain. It doesn’t take away from the training for me, because that in itself was a really important experience. Try to complete your plan. If you can’t, then take the challenges one at a time.
Congrats to all of the others that raced the Patriot Half. You guys did incredibly well!!! It was really exciting to hear the results.
sbr
Tucker
About the Author
Tucker Evans is a '19 studying math and physics. He likes green tea, gardening, and anything that has to do with space.
Disclaimer: I recognize that some readers are unfamiliar with triathlon and the IRONMAN race event. I have included a glossary of discipline-specific terms that appear in the following write-up; all underlined words are included in the Glossary.
Moreover, I recognize that some people are interested solely in the race and not any anecdotal/introspective comments. Therefore, I have organized this post into sections, as follows:
Foreword (my background and training), Travel Log (from Hanover, NH, to St. George, UT), Pre-Race, Swim, Bike, Run, Finish/Post-Race, and Summary. If you are primarily interested in race details, see Pre-Race through Finish/Post-Race.
Athlete Guide containing race specifics, course maps, and logistics.
Foreword
I am twenty years old as of writing; I am a first-generation college student; I am the son of supportive parents. I am an anxious person at times, and I adore puns, to a fault.
I am part of the Class of 2024 at Dartmouth College in Hanover, NH. I am a member of the Dartmouth Triathlon Club (“tri-team”). On May 7th, 2022, I competed in the 2021 IRONMAN World Championships in St. George Utah.
The event was a full-distance “Ironman Triathlon”, consisting of a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile bike ride, and a 26.2-mile run (a marathon) to finish.
An athlete typically qualifies for the world championships in a general-entry Ironman (IM) race and “earns a slot” to worlds. Due to the enduring COVID-19 pandemic, race organizers moved the championship from its historical site to another race schedule in St. George, Utah—this change was announced on Sept. 23, 2021, six days after I signed up for my first IM in St. George.
Thus, I became an IM World Championship competitor.
In sum, I spent 185 days training for the event. I swam over 100,000 yards, cycled nearly 2000 miles, and ran over 300 miles.
On Jan. 2nd, I injured my knee and I was unable to run for three months.
In early March, I contracted COVID-19 and I was unable to train for 10 days.
On April 2nd, I was cycling through Orford, NH, when I was bitten by a local dog. Thereafter, I received four rounds of rabies vaccinations from Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center.
On May 4, 2022, three days before the event, I left Hanover with Coach Jim Anderson of the Endurance Drive.
Travel Log
3:45 am. 04 May. Wake up. Travel to Logan Express station in Woburn, MA.
8:58 am. 04 May. Board DELTA 695 traveling to Las Vegas, NV.
— Time Change (EST → PDT, -3 HRS.) —
12:00 pm. 04 May. Disembark DELTA 695.
01:30 pm. 04 May. Commuter shuttle to car rental facility.
02:00 pm. 04 May. Drive to St. George, Utah, for athlete registration.
— Time Change (PDT → MDT, +1 HR.) —
05:00 pm. 04 May. Arrive in Town Park Square in St. George for athlete check-in.
06:00 pm. 04 May. Arrive at Airbnb in St. George.
Approximately 13 hours of travel.
Pre-Race
Jim and I woke up around 3:30 in order to make the 4:15 athlete shuttle to Sand Hollow State Park, the site of transition one.
It was still dark by the time we arrived at Sand Hollow. It was 60° F, cool enough to wear a thin layer. We found a comfortable fence to lean on for the next several hours: Jim’s race would start around 7:15, and mine would start around 7:30.
Katie joined us after a while. She gave each of us a salt tab, and we watched athletes checking in, arranging their belongings in T1, and preparing themselves for the day ahead.
I listened to an episode of the Hidden Brain podcast, then I listened to “Tales of Dominica” and other songs from Lil Nas X’s Montero album.
In the week before race day, I had been feeling under the weather. My throat was scratchy, my chest and nose were congested, and I drank Emergen-C and Skratch by the gallon. I still felt that way on the morning of the race, but I decided that if I hadn’t thrown up by that morning I would commit to the event.
The hours passed without note—no big pep talks. Katie, Jim, and I sat there, chatting idly or napping as we pleased, until the time came for us to don our wetsuits.
When that time came, we were organized into columns according to our age category (e.g. Men 18-24). These categories determined our start types. We moved in a slow herd, around one bend and down a long chute before arriving at the starting arch.
The water was placid save for the chop created by the athletes and the safety boats. Dozens of volunteers were on the water in kayaks, monitoring athletes’ progress. I’d heard race officials announce that the water was 5° warmer than the practice swim that previous Thursday. In other words, the water had risen from a balmy 59° F to a sultry 64° F. The sun had started to rise.
Then, it began!
Swim (2.4 miles)
We entered the water in a rolling start, which meant that every 10 seconds a pair of athletes crossed through the arch and dove into the reservoir.
When I entered the water, it was cold and refreshing. I had opted for two swim caps, both pulled over my forehead to provide insulation.
The main objective in open-water swimming (OWS) is “sighting” well. Sighting is the practice of identifying the next buoy and swimming toward it; an athlete will “resight” roughly every seven strokes in order to stay on-course. Over a 2.4-mile swim, poor sighting can add hundreds of yards to an athlete’s total distance.
Open water swim (OWS) buoy
Two things helped me maintain focus during the swim. First, my watch vibrated for every 500 yards covered (I assume this was a carry-over from previous OWS). Therefore, every time my watch vibrated I knew I had completed another ⅛ of the distance: I gauged my effort and readjusted as necessary. Second, I knew the general layout of the swim course. I understood that the course was a rough L-shape, and that we crossed in front of Sand Hollow Island going out and coming back.
I found breathing difficult given my previous days’ illness. The water tasted like gasoline from the motorized safety boats. Throughout the race, I was constantly maneuvering around a man in a purple swim cap. He moved in front of me, next to me, and behind me for 80% of the swim. It was infuriating, but I focused on my sighting.
I finished the swim and I couldn’t believe that 85 minutes had passed in the water. I crossed through the arch once more and I walked up the chute to the wetsuit peelers.
It cannot be argued that the IM volunteers were anything other than angels in disguise. There is no discussion. If you are under the false assumption that these people are not the kindest, most willing, and most enthusiastic humans you have the pleasure to meet, then you are sorely mistaken. Literal godsends, doing God’s work.
Case in point. The wetsuit peelers, as they are called, sit you down and subsequently pull your wetsuit from your body. This was my first time with wetsuit peelers, but after a 2.4-mile swim I didn’t find much energy to object. Moreover, I’d had my ankles grabbed and my ass incidentally smacked by fellow competitors, so having someone remove my wetsuit seemed mundane in comparison.
At the same time I was having my wetsuit stripped, I felt a dry pain in my throat—I realized I had lost my voice during the swim. The previous days’ illness had taken its toll on my lungs, and I found it difficult to take deep breaths or speak in full sentences without pain.
By the end of the IM, I estimate I spoke no more than 150 words to competitors and race volunteers.
The wetsuit was removed and I walked into T1. I dried myself off, applied a liberal amount of Chamois Butter, and equipped myself for the ride.
Bike (112 miles)
Now you may be wondering: When do you eat during an IM?
Really, it’s more like: When don’t you eat?
I ate ~500 calories of solid food moving through T1. Then, I broke two Clif bars into bite size pieces and stored them in my bike's bento box. I walked my bike to the mount line, mounted the bike, and set off for the hills ahead.
I started the ride light and easy, remembering Coach Katie and Coach Jim’s words about IM pacing, especially with all of the hills ahead. In the days before, they had said: “So many people should pass you on the first 20 miles, control the impulse to gun it up hills.”
The course could be delineated into three major ascents: The Wall (mile 20, circled in blue), the Veyo (mile 75, circled in pink), and Snow Canyon (mile 100, circled in purple), accompanied by rolling hills.
The first 20 miles passed without note. Coach Katie found me on mile 25, gave a few words of encouragement, then carried on with her race.
I found the aid stations judiciously placed. I was never without ice (to pour down my back) or water (to pour on my head).
Around mile 40, I encountered a novel situation. I cycled over a bump and exerted force on my handlebars (as one does, as one does). However, when I came to rest on the bars they shifted ~5° down (toward the ground). So… my headset was loose. The two screws, partially rusted from recent months of weathering and numerous years of use, were not strong enough to keep the headset in place—huh.
At this point, I wasn’t foreign to “making do” with a less-than-stellar bike. The day before, Coach Jim had opened my back brake (i.e. no back wheel braking for the 112-mile ride) due to previous issues with rubbing/friction. Several months before, we had done a bike fit and we resorted to raising the seat in order for me to ride comfortably.
I had personally tightened the screws on the headset the day before. I knew that I’d tightened each screw to their limit. Though I had bike tools with me, there would be little I could do to tighten the screws further and prevent the headset from moving. From that point forward, I rode on borrowed wheels. Every bump, I minimized force on the headset; I loosened my grip on every bump, and I was careful when going into the aero position.
At mile 56, there was a special needs supply station. Athletes packed their special needs bags and dropped them in Town Park Square before boarding the shuttle that morning. My special needs bag contained a brownie, water with electrolytes, and a few Gu packets and other snacks. Race organizers had placed these special needs bags on the tarmac in preparation for athletes’ arrivals. Mind you, it was north of 90°F.
When I opened my water and took a sip, I retched. It was at a temperature comfortable for sipping tea or coffee. The combination of heat and salt was nauseating.
When I tried to eat my brownie, I found it had turned to mush. In any case, I couldn’t stomach solid food with the oppressive heat.
I asked one of the volunteers for sunscreen and I continued on the course.
Around mile 60, somewhere in the valley leading to the Veyo, I received a drafting violation on the bike. Rather than dispute the violation and risk disqualification (DQ), I nodded and continued on the bike. For the rest of the course, regardless of ascent/descent or speed, I placed myself to the left or right of an upcoming cyclist. Some cyclists rode in the smack center of the road (instead of staying to the right, as is courteous and conventional), at which point I maneuvered around them, too.
The drafting violation cost me five minutes of my race, which in all honesty was a welcome respite at mile 90 (before Snow Canyon).
Entering Snow Canyon, cyclists were sitting or lying down on the side of the road. Their hands were on their stomachs, their heads to the sky, their bikes strewn in the dirt. They had been put to a halt by heat exhaustion or heat stroke.
I overheard a volunteer speaking over the radio: “Yeah, we’ve got a guy who’s been here for thirty minutes…” The volunteer stood alone, a silver SUV parked 20 feet behind him. “What? No, we don’t have any water.”
This was mile 100. People were walking, spitting, hacking, and coughing. It was about 2 pm. I decided to walk most of the ascent in Snow Canyon, recognizing the marathon ahead and the conditions of other cyclists on the course.
When I crested Snow Canyon, I knew that it was a steady downhill all the way back into town. I cherished the downhills and peddled only when I fell below 25 mph, monitoring my heart rate and saving myself for the run.
Run (26.2 miles)
As soon as I dismounted the bike I felt a ball of pain in my right foot. I believe that during the bike I tiled my foot outward (with clipped pedals) and added additional force to the right side of my right foot. Thus, for the first miles of the run I hobbled at a 15’ per mile pace.
The course consisted of two, 13.1-mile loops beginning and ending in Town Park Square. There were aid stations at every mile of the course.
I met Coach Jim on my mile 2 (his mile 11). We checked in briefly before continuing our respective races.
Miles 1-12 didn’t leave an impression on me. It was still hot, and I think that those first hours were the origin of my horrendous sunburns. I took ice and water at each aid station and put one foot in front of the other.
Between miles 12 and 14, I decided that I should probably start “racing” again (especially after seeing Coach Katie finish her race as I was starting lap 2 of the run course). By that point, I’d been walk-running (walking for a time, running for a time, repeat), and I’d had some success.
I tried making promises to myself. I’ll walk for 100 paces, then I’ll run for 100 paces; I’ll run half a mile, then walk half a mile; I’ll walk the aid stations and run between them. Nothing stuck.
Then, I started to calculate the finish. At mile 14, it was about 8:36 pm. I needed to cover 12 miles before the time cutoff. Each athlete as a rule had 17 hours to complete the course, and seeing as my start time was approximately 7:22 am, I needed to cover 12 miles before 12:22 am (May 8th).
Of course, this is what I thought at the time. I didn’t know for certain when the time cutoffs occurred, and none of the race volunteers or athletes could tell me, either.
Nevertheless, I was worried about not finishing the race. I had 12 miles to cover in just under four hours; I had to travel at an average of 3-point-something miles per hour in order to finish within the time limit. Since my watch was still tracking my speed (the battery life of the Garmin 935 is outstanding), I knew that my fast-walking pace was slightly faster than 15’ per mile (4+ mph).
I didn’t know if I was going to finish the race. I knew the numbers.
I decided on a new strategy. I would run every flat and downhill, and walk every uphill. This strategy was founded on simple logic: the run was easiest on the flats and downhills. If I was going to maximize my speed while also economizing my effort, I needed to utilize the flats and downhills and earn myself the time to walk uphill (and conserve energy).
I started thinking to myself: “I’m running on easy money!” (flats and downhills) and “Why would I ever run uphill?” (because why would I ever run uphill?). This made miles 14-19 straightforward.
Reminder: I lost my voice after the swim.
At each aid station, I made exaggerated gestures and used eye contact to communicate with volunteers. At mile 18, when I rasped to a volunteer that “I [was] cramping”, she knew to give me salt—another volunteer handed me a full banana (this would be my fourth or fifth of the run). You wouldn’t think it, but consuming a condiment cup of table salt does help with severe cramps. After the salt, the cramps subsided and I was able to continue the race.
Around the same time, my mind wandered to a metaphor I’d heard among people with the Endurance Drive (link) and the tri-team. It goes like this: you have a finite number of “matches.” Matches are strong efforts (e.g. a sprint) that you “burn” (perform) during a training session or a race. The thrust of the metaphor is that you have a finite set of opportunities to burn matches and if you burn those matches at the wrong times you can end up spent before the finish.
At mile 17, I thought about the matches metaphor. I said to myself, “I have nine dry, unused matches.” Each mile, I updated the number, “I have eight dry, unused matches.” Each time I clocked a mile I burned another match, if only to focus my mind and visualize the finish. This mental trick carried me back to Town Square Park.
Finish, Post-Race
I finished the race with a sprint down the chute. After crossing the line, Daniela Ryf (the women’s 1st place finisher that day) was there to give me the IM World Championship medal. I was led through the chute, collected the rest of the finisher swag, and finally released into the athlete area for food and refreshment.
Shortly after sitting down and attempting to eat, I found myself unable to keep down solid food. I remained in the athlete area until I reconnected with the support squad; we returned to the town house.
I finished the race at 11:18:59 pm. I was unable to stomach solid food until noon the next day. The sunburns on my thighs and back were 2nd degree (blistering/bleeding)—I sought medical attention at the College’s health center after I returned to campus on Monday. I was limping for a week following the race (due to the burns). Because I gripped the headset so tightly on the bike, I lost (and mostly regained) fine motor control in my left hand; on the Sunday night following the race, I was unable to hold a pencil.
Since then, however, my burns have healed and I have resumed light training. I look forward to summer in Hanover.
Summary
I sustained burns, I lost my voice, I had multiple injuries in the leadup to the race. Over the past six months, training for this event became my most salient character trait and came to define my social and academic lives. In full transparency, my academics suffered as a result of my poor time management. I found myself mentally fatigued.
To be certain, I’ve gained physical and mental strength. I ascended to one of the highest peaks of athleticism.
I have Coaches Katie Clayton and Jim Anderson, as well as their families and friends, to thank for their support around this event.
From left to right: Coach Katie Clayton, Coach Jim Anderson, Ben Levesque.
I have Coach Jeff Reed, and my teammates on the tri-team, who tracked my progress throughout the race and cheered me on in the months prior to the big day.
I have my colleagues, my peers, my fraternity brothers, and my circles, all of whom influenced my thoughts and perspectives on this event.
I have the 26 donors that helped me raise $1500 to pay for race-related expenses (plane tickets, entry fees, etc.).
Writing this report has been a mechanism to process the physical, mental, and emotional stress of this journey. It’s also a way of documenting what this experience has required of me: where and from whom I found the will to keep training and adapting to new circumstances.
This has been a long haul and I’m truly glad it’s over. I’m looking forward to focusing on my academics and building better relationships with my friends and family.
To some, doing an ironman could be considered a special type of hell.
To me, doing an ironman with so many people behind me—supporting me, cheering for me, congratulating me—made this experience a boon. I will never forget the overwhelming support of my teammates, friends, and family.
With their support, I have become an Iron Man.
Crossing the finish at the 2021 Ironman World Championships. OT: 15:16:22 (S-1:24:42, B-8:05:12, R-5:58:01)
Glossary:
Ironman Triathlon: In 1978, the first “Ironman Triathlon” was held in Kailua-Kona, Hawai’i. It was designed as a competition between swimmers, cyclists, and runners to determine which discipline was the strongest. The route of the race combined a traditional swim, a circumnavigation of the island, and a marathon to finish. The first Iron Man in 1978 completed the race in 11 hours, 46 minutes, and 58 seconds. These distances are generally regarded as the “Ironman” distances for triathlon. There are triathlons of varying distances, including sprint, olympic, half-Ironman, and full Ironman.
Transitions: Transition one (“T1”) is the swim-to-bike transition area: it is where athletes exit the water, remove their wetsuits, and change gear for the bike portion. Transition two (“T2”) is the bike-to-run transition area: it is where athletes dismount their bikes and change gear for the run portion.
Salt Tab(lets): A tablet of salt, consumed to boost electrolytes. Salt intake is crucial during long-distance events, where water and other essential nutrients are sweated out over time.
Skratch: A brand of electrolyte powder, mixed with water.
The Arch(es): At each transition area, and at intermediate points in the race, tracking devices recorded athletes’ times and paces. This was accomplished using an ankle bracelet that athletes were required to wear at all times during the race.
Chamois Butter: A brand of anti-chafe cream, critical for long-distance bike rides.
Equipment for the Ride: Per Ironman regulation, athletes need to have their helmet on and clipped before exiting T1. An athlete will be stopped if they are seen without their helmet on and secured.
Bento Box: A small, trough-like compartment with a mesh net cover, meant to hold nutrition. Secured between the top-tube and the headset of the bike.
Bike Fit: A fitting session for a bike, to adjust seat height and other features (such as stem length, handlebars, etc.) for comfort and power efficiency.
Aero(dynamic) Position: Triathlon bikes are unique for their design, particularly the “aero-bars” that stick out from the front of the bike. These bars are used when the athlete can comfortably enter the “aero position”, with both forearms on the pads. This position is aerodynamic and is preferred for long-distance races, where small efficiencies save time over the course of the race. Drafting (violation): Drafting is the practice of sitting behind another cyclist to save energy. Sitting in someone’s “pocket” (the pocket of air behind the cyclist), is said to save up to 30% of your energy. It is illegal in ironman races because it goes against the idea of “moving by one’s own effort.”
Although summer is often associated with rest and relaxation, Dartmouth students make the most of the summer months with class, internships, jobs, trip leading, studying abroad, training, and much more. Summer can often be just as stressful and hectic as any other term. After three months of all of that, Tri Team was craving a getaway before classes started for 17F. Thank goodness for Lincolnville, Maine, aka. “A Triathlete’s Paradise.” At Katie’s family cabin in Lincolnville, we swam, biked, and ran through beautiful scenery and gorgeous weather. Most of the group completed a challenging brick workout (despite Brandt fixing three bike malfunctions like flat tires before the workout even started) while the bikeless among us did a run and strength circuit. The rolling hills and crisp air were perfect for our daily runs, and even though the water in the pond was a bit chilly, a few brave souls wetsuited up and went for open water swims. While our workouts were intense, it was great to be able to train all together as a team again.
Lincolnville is great for triathletes, but it’s even better for a group of friends looking to have a great time (without wifi!). Russell was our fire master, keeping us nice and warm for the colder evenings. Katie was our master chef, whipping up chili and burritos, ice cream and blueberry crisp, and making sure we had lots of snacks -- all of which fit a stunning variety of dietary restrictions. We spent our free time kayaking, hiking up Mount Battie, meeting Katie’s aunt and grandparents, helping prepare meals, and laying on the dock or the hammock enjoying each other’s company. The view of the ocean from Mount Battie was worth the short (but steep) climb, and by the end of the day, after workouts, kayaking, hiking, and a 15-minute ab session led by Sonia, we were all ready to sit and tell jokes and stories around the fire.
This training trip gave us the chance to train in a beautiful place and recharge for the term ahead, including our next race, Buzzard’s Bay. Maine’s motto is “Worth A Visit,” and for all of us, it truly was. We returned to campus closer as teammates and friends and excited to find out what Tri adventures this term has in store.
SBR,
Emma
About the Author
Emma Rodriguez is a ‘20 studying Psychology and Women’s Studies. She enjoys banana and almond butter sandwiches and Collis salads. Her favorite (and slowest) leg of the triathlon is the run.
Nobody likes waking up at 4:30 am. That is not an opinion. That is an objective fact gleaned from 19 years of living experience. 4:30 is simply too cold, too dark, and too early for happiness. A few more facts I have learned the hard way: running is exhausting, biking hurts your legs, and it’s hard to breathe and swim at the same time. So needless to say, waking up at 4:30 in the morning to do all three strikes any logical person as a terrible idea. And it is perhaps ludicrous to suggest that doing so could actually be fun. And yet when Andrea sent an email inquiring about a training trip, I signed up immediately.
What could motivate a supposedly intelligent college student to do this to myself? The short answer is because I love it. I love the sport. I love the long hours spent in the pool and the bike. I love the beautiful views from the mountains of New Hampshire. Most importantly I love the unique and generous community that is formed by these sports. Training, living, and eating together for four days with the team allowed us to grow closer and bond over our mutual love for triathlons.
For background: on the afternoon of Thursday the 12th, we loaded bikes and set off to a house on the cape generously lent to us by the family of Andrea (a ’20 and team captain). The next three days were a blur of training, eating, chatting, and eating. We woke up early on Friday to explore the cape on our bikes and saw three gorgeous beaches and a lighthouse. That afternoon, we traveled to Cliff Pond in order to practice open water swimming. This was a beautiful pond surrounded by trees on all sides. We swam from beach to beach, practiced starts, and even accidentally surprised some patrons by emerging, clad in wet suits, from an otherwise empty pond. On Saturday, we did a second swim and ran down to a gorgeous beach in the afternoon. It was between these fun adventures that the real magic of the trip emerged. The triathlon team combines an eclectic mixture of Dartmouth students whose only mutual interest is our sport. Talking to the members of the team offered an incredible opportunity to learn not only about triathlons, but about Dartmouth, Andrea’s wild bike tour, how to upload to google drive, and a fascinating group of my peers.
All of this training and team bonding culminated into the Buzzards Bay Triathlon, which took place on Sunday morning. We had to awake long before the crack of dawn in order to clean the house and drive to the race. We then drove down to the titular bay where we unloaded bikes, wet suits, snacks, and 15 enthusiastic triathletes. The preparations went quickly, as race mornings always do: bikes were moved into transition, shoes were placed with precision, wet suits were donned, and before I really understood what was happening, a loud buzzer sent us scrambling over rocks and into the frigid Atlantic surf. After swimming through the ocean, biking 14 miles, and running a 5K we all began to filter through the finish line. As I ran towards the end, I heard Russell (a '20 and triathlete extraordinaire) yelling encouragement and positivity, which gave me a big boost when I needed it most. And that aura of positivity and support was the real highlight of the day. Between high-5’s on the course and being basically held up as we crossed the finish line, at every step of there was a palpable community offering positive energy.
I love running and biking and swimming, but at the end of the day, the highlights of the trip were moments of doing so with the team. The trip was a great way to form connections before the school year starts, and it leaves me excited for the upcoming year, when “tri-hard” and “tri-fun” become synonymous.
About the Author
Thomas Clark is a ’22 studying engineering sciences and physics. Other than triathlons, Thomas is passionate about teaching anyone who will listen about physics, playing games with his friends, and blackboards.
Although we’re well into the winter term at this point, many of us are far from settled into our usual routines. To help reduce the spread of COVID-19, those of us who planned to be on campus this term had our arrivals delayed a week and a half, and our arrival quarantine ended earlier this week. That was also around when the gym opened up for on-campus students to use, and without clearance to swim or bike as a team (although it is winter and so one of those doesn’t usually happen) that leaves us with nothing but as many miles as our legs can take and as many minutes of planking as our abs can tolerate. It’s so wildly different from my last recollection of classes at Dartmouth in 19F, and while I personally haven’t entirely adjusted to this new feeling of being on campus it’s definitely a big change from my now-routine life of sitting at a desk absorbing class after class over Zoom.
A lot of what we’ve been able to put on as an entire team hasn’t changed this term compared to those before it. We still have Zoom strength weekly (although this term it’s twice a week) to give us opportunities to work out together, and there’s still an ambience of us all practicing together, even if we can’t physically all be in the same space. I love our strength workouts not just because everyone around me pushes me to do better and build upon what I could do the week prior, but also because it affords us all a chance to catch up and take a breather from our otherwise busy lives. None of that changed when the workouts shifted to a virtual setting, and I’m always amazed by what the other execs do to keep these workouts feeling fresh and entertaining. Even outside of workouts, though, we’ve adapted our more social events so we can still bond as a team without being able to share the same roads or lanes in the pool. It might not be the same for now – or for the rest of my time on the team – but that doesn’t make things any less enjoyable.
If anything, having been away from campus since March has taught me to fully absorb what I had previously taken for granted: seeing and training alongside people. In a world where we’re constantly alert of who we're around and our own practices, gone are the days of seeing someone by chance somewhere on campus and stopping for a quick chat before suggesting a formal catch-up over a meal at Foco and parting ways once more. Instead, even passing by some of my closest friends on the sidewalk has been awkward as I try to figure out if I know the person behind the layers and mask before they say hi to me first (although, I suppose the Dartmouth Triathlon hat does give it away a little). Rather than asking to get a meal with someone, I’m now messaging teammates who I know are on campus asking to go to the gym with me or on a run at some point when it’s not frigid, but we all know that Hanover winter makes those standards unrealistic. The chance interactions still come around every now and again, though. Everything from passing by Jackson in front of Russell Sage (and of course stopping to chat quickly) to doing loops around Occum Pond alongside Coach Katie and Coach Jim just means so much more to me in 2021 than it did in previous years.
Of course, that’s just how things have gone so far, in the few days that we’ve been out of arrival quarantine. There’s been too little time to experience everything and still so much to look forward to that it’s tough to tell exactly what will come of the rest of this term for those of us who find ourselves on campus. Regardless, one thing has become clear to me already: it’s important to take full advantage of what’s available at any given time, because we don’t know if or when things will change. Whether you’ve set goals for your training or general life goals, go after them even if you find them to be too ambitious for the current circumstances. Regardless of the outcome it’ll be an unforgettable experience, and that just might be the mindset we need now.
SBR,
CS
About the Author
Connor Spencer is a ’22 double majoring in math and computer science (and yes, it’s as much work as it sounds like). When not wrapped in one or more problem sets, Connor is often on a long run, complaining about what to do with a spare dorm room, or being an extremely active part of the Upper Valley’s Pokémon Go community.Photo credit: Dartmouth Alumni Magazine
