Sea in the fall is apt to be, so we had to substitute a beach run for the swimming portion. Even when
conditions weren’t so drastic, I’d have all kinds of awful experiences: it would rain, or the waves
would be so high I couldn’t breathe well when I did the crawl, or else it’d be so cold I’d freeze on the
bike. In fact, whenever I drive the 217 miles to Niigata for this triathlon I’m always expecting the
worst in terms of weather, convinced that something terrible’s going to happen. It might as well be a
sort of image training for me. Even this time, when I first saw the placid, warm sea, I felt like
someone was trying to pull a fast one. Don’t fall for it, I warned myself. This was just make-believe;
there had to be a trap lying in wait. Maybe a school of vicious, poisonous jellyfish. Or a pre-
hibernation, ravenous bear would charge at my bike. Or an unfortunate bolt of lightning would zap me
right in the head. Or maybe I’d be attacked by a swarm of angry bees. Maybe my wife, waiting for me
at the finish line, was going to have discovered some awful secrets about me (I suddenly felt like there
might actually be some). Needless to say, I always view this meet, the Murakami International
Triathlon, with a bit of trepidation. I never have any idea what will happen.
No doubt about it now, though, today the weather’s great. As I stand here in my rubber suit, I’m
actually starting to get warm.
Around me are people dressed the same way, all fidgeting as they wait for the race to start. A weird
scene, if you think about it. We’re like a bunch of pitiful dolphins washed up on the shore, waiting for
the tide to come in. Everyone else looks more upbeat about the race than I am. Or maybe it just looks
that way. Anyway, I’ve decided to keep my mind clear of the extraneous. I’ve traveled all this way,
and now I have to do my best to get through the race. For three hours all I need to do is keep my mind
blank and just swim, ride a bike, and run.
When are we going to start? I check my watch. But it’s only a short time after the last time I
checked it. Once the race begins I won’t, ideally, have any time to think...
Up to this point I’ve been in six triathlons of various lengths, though for four years, from 2001 to
2004, I didn’t participate in any. The blank in my record exists because during the 2000 Murakami
Triathlon I suddenly found myself unable to swim and was disqualified. It’s taken some time to get
over the shock and regain my composure. It wasn’t at all clear to me why I couldn’t swim. I mulled
over various possibilities in my mind, and as I did so my confidence took a nosedive. I’d been in many
races, but this was the first time I’d ever been on the Disqualified roster.
Truthfully, this wasn’t the first time I’d stumbled during the swimming portion of a triathlon. In the
pool or in the ocean I’m able to do the crawl over a long distance without pushing it. Usually I can
swim 1,500 meters (a swimmer’s mile) in about thirty-three minutes—not especially fast, but good
enough for a triathlon. I grew up near the sea and am used to ocean swimming. Some people who
practice only in pools find it hard, and frightening, to swim in the ocean, but not me. I actually find it
easier because there’s so much space and you’re more buoyant.
For some reason, though, whenever it comes down to an actual race, I blow the swimming portion.
Even when I entered the relatively short-distance Tinman competition, in Oahu, Hawaii, I couldn’t do