Helloooo trifuelers.

Thanks for having this great internet community so I don't bore the ears off my coworkers and friends as I talk excitedly about the sport of triathlon. I'm pretty new to this sport. I'm in my mid 30s, started my very first race on 9/11/05 with the Los Angeles Tri Sprint distance (0.4mile swim, 20mi bike, 5K run).

Two weeks before the race, I bought my first road bike since my 1984 Schwinn Varsity 10-speed. One year before the race, I had waded around Santa Monica beach with a foam boogie board. Twenty years ago, I had run cross country in high school. For the past ten years, my greatest physical exertion came in the form of pushing a mouse and staring at numbers all day.

When I stepped into T1, I knew I was over my head. No wetsuit, no sunglasses, no clue. I didn't bring enough gear and too much emotional luggage. I was in a life funk at the time, unhappy about too many things that didn't go my way, not knowing whether to be angry or self-pitying about life. Looking around me, I saw people who were determined, confident, and had a strong look in their eyes. It was inspiring. When the air horn went off, all the anger and self pity were replaced by fear and panic. A quarter mile off shore, things only got worse. I was in the water but on my lungs and most of my body was on fire. Somehow, I made it out of the water and I felt reborn. It was one of those personal extreme moments that you refer to as a "religious experience."

I took off on my bike from Venice Beach wet, hot, cold, confused, and light headed up toward Hollywood with a belly full of seawater. I started gaining on some, passing a few, and my mind shifted gears to starting appreciate that I might actually be able to do this. I had planned on quitting "when things got too hard" before the race even started.

I relieved myself of most of that seawater on Hollywood and Vine with my ass off the saddle thinking that was kind of a good spot for it. The run was hard, painful and slow - but by now my head was in a peaceful state that was unfamiliar but nice. Perhaps it was an endorphin high.

The finish line archway came into view as I heard, with much gratitude, the cheers and support of so many strangers who clapped for me even though they didn't have to. To me, that cardboard arch was more beautiful than the Arc de Triumphe in Paris. The wedge of orange that I bit into was sweeter than anything I've ever tasted.

My coworkers stopped chuckling at the idea of me as a triathlete when I came back to work the next day with my finisher's medal in my pocket.

I kept it up in the last 6 months and finished my 3rd sprint race, signed up for my first oly, and am paid up for 6 more races before the end of the year. I got myself a gym membership which I use almost daily and sometimes twice daily. I lost more pounds than my age during that time. I gained muscles I never had. I eat better, sleep better, think clearer, stand straighter and taller, keep a cleaner house. Things make more sense and problems are not so unsurmountable. Life isn't perfect, but it's pretty good - and it's much better when pushing forward racing your own race.