“It was spiritual.”
This is how Kevin Durant described Devin Booker’s performance in the Suns’ closeout playoff game against the Clippers in Phoenix. Booker scored 25 points in the third quarter, on his way to 47 points in the victory.
Durant continued: “I don’t scream too much in the games no more as I got older, but when he hit that three at the top of the key, I felt the energy and I know everyone in the crowd felt it.”
I don’t know what it’s like to be on the court during an NBA playoff game, feeling the hometown crowd explode in cheers watching a peak star performance.
But I did complete a sprint triathlon in Tempe last week, and I would use the same words to describe the experience.
It was spiritual.
The morning started in a panic.
While driving to the race, about five minutes from the parking lot, I realized I had left my swim goggles at the house. Organizing your equipment is one of the key components of a successful triathlon, and I screwed it up.
Did we have time to turn back for the goggles? Or should I try to swim without them?
Wendy was driving. We did some quick calculations and decided to turn back.
We got home, I grabbed the goggles from my gym bag, and we drove back to the race, anxiously checking the clock. I made it to my transition station with 15 minutes to spare before race time.
The transition station is where you keep your equipment during the race. A triathlon starts with a swim, then goes to a bike, and finishes with a run.
At the transition station, I pumped up my bike tires, arranged my clothes for the next legs of the race, and put on my wetsuit.
When I got in line with the other swimmers about to start the race, the guy next to me stood goggle-less.
“No goggles, huh?” I asked.
“Naw,” he replied.
The swim is always chaotic at the beginning of a triathlon. Arms and legs flying everywhere. Your head is probably going to get kicked a few times. In Tempe Town Lake, you start swimming directly into the rising sun, so it’s hard to see where you’re going (even with goggles.)
But as I started swimming, I felt calm. This was the easy part.
The purpose of this race, for me, was to find a sense of physical grounding. To escape the mental world for a while. To forget about the worries and stress of regular life.
This past year has been a whirlwind, and I wanted to revive an old ritual.
My uncle introduced me to triathlon when I was in college. Since then I’ve dabbled in the sport, doing a race here and there, whenever the inspiration strikes. The last race I did was in 2016, after recovering from a torn Achilles.
People race for different reasons, but everyone there has positive energy.
Athletes from all walks of life show up, excited for race day. Some people are doing their first triathlon — a goal on the pathway to a healthier lifestyle. Some people are avid racers trying for a personal best. I saw two teams dedicated to a disabled child — the child towed along to experience the swim, bike and run.
Volunteers are there to give out information and encouragement. Friends and family are lined up to cheer on the athletes.
The buzz of the crowd goes silent when you start swimming.
The mind's focus is to put one arm in front of the other. And to breathe.
My goal for the race was to not get injured. I’m not that young anymore. At least, not young enough to push the envelope after two months of light training.
The sprint triathlon is a 750 meter swim, a 12 mile bike, and a 3 mile run. It's the shortest race on the triathlon menu.
The bike route took us across the bridge overlooking the Salt River bed, and then up and down Curry Road through Papago Park.
It was a beautiful morning. The weather was crisp. The air was clear.
At one point in the bike race, near the Marquee Theatre, a spectator was riding a bike back and forth on the sidewalk, screaming encouragement at the top of her lungs.
YOU GOT THIS!
YOU ARE STRONG AS HELL!
For some reason, these shouts of encouragement struck me to my core. The words felt like encouragement for the journey of life.
I was also struck by the fact that someone took time out of their day to go yell encouraging words to random strangers. Approximately 30 minutes later, when I passed by the same area during the run, she was still there yelling words of encouragement to people.
Good vibes.
Crossing the finish line, there was a small crowd gathered to cheer the finishers. A few kids on the sideline held out their hands for high fives.
A volunteer handed me a water and a finisher’s medal. Music was blasting from the speakers.
Some athletes stood around to mingle with family and friends. Others went home.
I probably could have pushed myself harder during the bike and run, but I accomplished my goal of not getting injured.
I don’t know if I’ll train for a race again. Maybe next year. Maybe not.
For now, I’m feeling grateful for life and grateful for the experience.
It was a detour to a sanctuary of positive energy.
good for you--you are a better man than I
People should always shout words of encouragement to total strangers. Our city, state, country and world would be a better place. Congratulations on the race. Loved hearing about your experience.