A Lonely Bystander's Guide; Triathlons
As a person who spends most of their time sleeping in and constructing beats on garage band; a 5am triathlon is the most unlikely place you’ll find me. Maybe it was the promise of breakfast afterwards that got me out of bed, or potentially the fact that I had 6 more shots left on my first ever roll of 35mm film. Either way, I ended up at the St Kilda foreshore on an icy Sunday morning.
At first, Triathlon seems like a sport for idiots. Swimming, running and bike-riding are suicide hobbies on their own and yet people still wake at the crack of dawn to do them; One. After. The. Other. I could think of 1 million better things to be doing with my time. Yet, I had to take a closer look.
I like to think of myself as a supportive child/sister. When I heard news that every member of my immediate family had signed up for a triathlon, my initial thought was “finally, I get a quiet Sunday morning to myself” and when the offer to do it was extended to me my response was 100 percent “Fuck no”. And yet there I was, shivering in my I.AM.GIA pixie coat, attempting to look like a fashion icon caught out.
One of my friends, who is a freak triathlete, described triathlons as an addiction which I now completely understand. I consider triathlons to be a pop culture as once you’ve witnessed the sea of rainbow coloured swim caps bopping up and down in the bay, you can truly grasp the cult following that this crazy sport has built up.
A cult of support and heaps of free Chobani is the package deal with these triathlons. Everyone is separate while simultaneously all together. Maybe it’s the unspoken rule of sticking around to support the slower of the pack or the award celebrations; this sport is worth the watch. So next time you’re free on a Sunday morning, maybe make your way down to a triathlon because the thrill of it seems to reach athletes and spectators alike.
