Some of the hardest work in a triathlon is done on the sidelines. That’s right, off the course. I could be talking about volunteers, but I’ll save that for another post. This one is dedicated to the spectators! The family, friends and co-workers who feel obliged, guilted or otherwise inspired to show up to your races where they see you for all of five minutes during a multi-hour event.
For most of us, the story of how we got into triathlon starts with the experience of seeing one. Whether you happened to be one of the aforementioned people on the sidelines, or you just wanted to see what all of the hype was about—you were once a spectator, witnessing the magic of strangers tapping into sheer will to make it to the finish line, and something clicked inside of you.
Being a spectator isn’t easy. There’s a lot more to it than ringing a cowbell or making a homemade sign. As athletes, we thrive on the confidence and adrenaline that’s built over months of training to complete our races, but from our spectators we hope for a calming vibe, a soothing promise to “do great,” or the security in knowing that no matter how we do, our people will still love us.
On my last ride, I was talking to a friend whose parents didn’t make much of an effort to see any of her races. From her first marathon to her many Ironmans, she went to the starting lines knowing that she was a lone ranger. I thought of how that must feel in an event like a marathon or the Ironman. I think of it like a ship crossing the ocean, or an airplane en route to a faraway destination. There’s nothing more comforting than falling into the embrace of those who care for you after a long voyage, or a trying time. For many triathletes the race conjures up those same feelings of taking off, setting out to navigate the course despite the obstacles, and doing whatever it takes to make a safe landing…to reach shore…to complete the mission.
Spectators should know that even though we only see you for mere minutes (sometimes seconds) at a time while we’re racing, that precious little time is like getting a postcard from home while we’re stuck in some remote part of the world counting the days (er, hours) until we can see you again.
Your cow bells, homemade signs, chants of awesomeness and “atta boys” make us feel like the elite athletes that have probably finished the race by the time you see us. If you came to the race unarmed, and are going “plain vanilla” with the smiles and the “good jobs," no worries. That works, too. It’s your commitment to our commitment that makes us feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Some triathletes feel bad asking anyone to come and support them (myself included). I’ve never wanted to ask anyone to put themselves out to come and see one of my races. I realize that watching a herd of spandex-clad people waddle out of the water, shuffle to their bikes, tumble into a run and collapse onto a finish line isn’t exactly everybody’s pint of Gatorade, and it’s even worse when they’re doing it in a monsoon or in the rural country where there’s nary a beer to be consumed (note to Spectators: cooler, ice, beer. Portable awesomeness). But when I signed up for the Ironman, I asked my parents if they would come. Mostly because I was almost certain they would need to claim my dead body at some point in the race.
Luckily, that wasn’t the case. They were hit with the monsoon experience at my first Ironman, and the beer-drinking “fun in the sun” experience at my second Ironman. My dad was particularly fond of the online experience of watching me chip in to various points on the race course (I found out when I checked my Facebook page, that the better part of Central New York was crossing their fingers for me, too, while tracking my progress online). There are all kinds of spectators, and there is no right way to be a good spectator. (And all spectators are appreciated!)
Whether you’re a triathlete who’s not sure how to ask the people in your life to come to your races, or a spectator who isn’t sure how to watch a race once your loved one has gone by, here are three things that you can do (or share) to enjoy your next race from the sidelines!
1. Celebrate Life
Triathlon is unique in that the course will become a shared stage for world-class athletes and first-time triathletes who have no clue what’s going on. What do they have in common? Unparalleled determination. What does that mean for you? Take notes. If there’s something on your “Bucket List” you haven’t started to think about yet, take a cue from the people who are just inches away from you sweating and panting. Anything is possible if you put your mind to it. Set a goal, chart a course, and take the first step.
2. Focus on the Strengths
In a society that’s consumed with finding flaws, fault and the ugly side of everything, use your experience at a triathlon to focus on the positive. An 80-year-old who’s chugging along on the run course of a 70.3? Rock on, Heart of Steel! A woman who’s two times the size of you coming out of the water? Way to go, Muscle Maven! It’s not an easy thing to officially register for a triathlon -- it takes strength in body and mind to show up to your first race (or your 70th) so be sure to appreciate what each individual athlete has to offer to the sport. First place isn’t always the one to “win” something.
3. Know Your Role
Every athlete is different, and so is every spectator. When I’m asking people to come and watch my races, I pitch the experience differently depending on who I’m talking to. With my father, I know it’s a numbers game. Give the man stats and demographics, and he’s suddenly looking at the race like the weekly crossword puzzle.
“Oh, I see what’s going on here. The trick to this is finding puns that are relevant to World War II.” (Yes, Dad, or age group athletes who have figured out who’s in the field and have a strategy to qualify for Kona).
Are you a spectator watching an athlete? Think about who you are to that person. Are you the coworker friend who has talked your athlete down from sending cranky, verbose emails when things fall apart at work? You’ll be a pinch hitter in that last mile before the finish line. Maybe you’re the mom or boyfriend. The one who can front-load all the feel-good vibes in the world before their Nikes even hit the pavement. By figuring out what your “power influence” is over the athlete, you can determine how you’ll best contribute to the race.
No matter who you are, it’s being there that means the most to athletes.
For most of us, the story of how we got into triathlon starts with the experience of seeing one. Whether you happened to be one of the aforementioned people on the sidelines, or you just wanted to see what all of the hype was about—you were once a spectator, witnessing the magic of strangers tapping into sheer will to make it to the finish line, and something clicked inside of you.
Being a spectator isn’t easy. There’s a lot more to it than ringing a cowbell or making a homemade sign. As athletes, we thrive on the confidence and adrenaline that’s built over months of training to complete our races, but from our spectators we hope for a calming vibe, a soothing promise to “do great,” or the security in knowing that no matter how we do, our people will still love us.
On my last ride, I was talking to a friend whose parents didn’t make much of an effort to see any of her races. From her first marathon to her many Ironmans, she went to the starting lines knowing that she was a lone ranger. I thought of how that must feel in an event like a marathon or the Ironman. I think of it like a ship crossing the ocean, or an airplane en route to a faraway destination. There’s nothing more comforting than falling into the embrace of those who care for you after a long voyage, or a trying time. For many triathletes the race conjures up those same feelings of taking off, setting out to navigate the course despite the obstacles, and doing whatever it takes to make a safe landing…to reach shore…to complete the mission.
Spectators should know that even though we only see you for mere minutes (sometimes seconds) at a time while we’re racing, that precious little time is like getting a postcard from home while we’re stuck in some remote part of the world counting the days (er, hours) until we can see you again.
Your cow bells, homemade signs, chants of awesomeness and “atta boys” make us feel like the elite athletes that have probably finished the race by the time you see us. If you came to the race unarmed, and are going “plain vanilla” with the smiles and the “good jobs," no worries. That works, too. It’s your commitment to our commitment that makes us feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Some triathletes feel bad asking anyone to come and support them (myself included). I’ve never wanted to ask anyone to put themselves out to come and see one of my races. I realize that watching a herd of spandex-clad people waddle out of the water, shuffle to their bikes, tumble into a run and collapse onto a finish line isn’t exactly everybody’s pint of Gatorade, and it’s even worse when they’re doing it in a monsoon or in the rural country where there’s nary a beer to be consumed (note to Spectators: cooler, ice, beer. Portable awesomeness). But when I signed up for the Ironman, I asked my parents if they would come. Mostly because I was almost certain they would need to claim my dead body at some point in the race.
Luckily, that wasn’t the case. They were hit with the monsoon experience at my first Ironman, and the beer-drinking “fun in the sun” experience at my second Ironman. My dad was particularly fond of the online experience of watching me chip in to various points on the race course (I found out when I checked my Facebook page, that the better part of Central New York was crossing their fingers for me, too, while tracking my progress online). There are all kinds of spectators, and there is no right way to be a good spectator. (And all spectators are appreciated!)
Whether you’re a triathlete who’s not sure how to ask the people in your life to come to your races, or a spectator who isn’t sure how to watch a race once your loved one has gone by, here are three things that you can do (or share) to enjoy your next race from the sidelines!
1. Celebrate Life
Triathlon is unique in that the course will become a shared stage for world-class athletes and first-time triathletes who have no clue what’s going on. What do they have in common? Unparalleled determination. What does that mean for you? Take notes. If there’s something on your “Bucket List” you haven’t started to think about yet, take a cue from the people who are just inches away from you sweating and panting. Anything is possible if you put your mind to it. Set a goal, chart a course, and take the first step.
2. Focus on the Strengths
In a society that’s consumed with finding flaws, fault and the ugly side of everything, use your experience at a triathlon to focus on the positive. An 80-year-old who’s chugging along on the run course of a 70.3? Rock on, Heart of Steel! A woman who’s two times the size of you coming out of the water? Way to go, Muscle Maven! It’s not an easy thing to officially register for a triathlon -- it takes strength in body and mind to show up to your first race (or your 70th) so be sure to appreciate what each individual athlete has to offer to the sport. First place isn’t always the one to “win” something.
3. Know Your Role
Every athlete is different, and so is every spectator. When I’m asking people to come and watch my races, I pitch the experience differently depending on who I’m talking to. With my father, I know it’s a numbers game. Give the man stats and demographics, and he’s suddenly looking at the race like the weekly crossword puzzle.
“Oh, I see what’s going on here. The trick to this is finding puns that are relevant to World War II.” (Yes, Dad, or age group athletes who have figured out who’s in the field and have a strategy to qualify for Kona).
Are you a spectator watching an athlete? Think about who you are to that person. Are you the coworker friend who has talked your athlete down from sending cranky, verbose emails when things fall apart at work? You’ll be a pinch hitter in that last mile before the finish line. Maybe you’re the mom or boyfriend. The one who can front-load all the feel-good vibes in the world before their Nikes even hit the pavement. By figuring out what your “power influence” is over the athlete, you can determine how you’ll best contribute to the race.
No matter who you are, it’s being there that means the most to athletes.
