On April 9th at 4:00 a.m. in the desert of Arizona, I awoke for what would be the hardest physical day of my life. The rest of the house was dark as my brother and his family lay asleep. I ate my carefully calculated breakfast as the house lay silent and still. I double-checked my equipment, then checked it again as the sun lay dormant beneath the subtle skyline.

This is the life of a triathlete.

For the last three years, as the rest of the world lay comfortable and warm in their beds, I have trained my heart, body, soul and spirit to be strong – Ironman strong. As the rest of the world chose the easy route, I, like all other triathletes, chose the hard route. This is what we do.

It was 6:50 a.m. as I waded into the water of Tempe Town Lake amongst 2,000 other eager souls. The atmosphere was electric and my emotions were overwhelming. As I basked in the emotions of the atmosphere, I contemplated my journey. I thought about my very first open water swim just two short years prior. I thought about that cold and windy day as I arrived at the beach start of the Ogden Valley Triathlon. On that day, I was the only racer without a wetsuit and most certainly, the only racer without a clue. I barely finished the swim that day, as I nearly drowned just 20 feet from shore. Just two short years later, awaiting a swim infinitely greater in distance, I contemplated the outcome.

Just after 7:00 a.m., after a personal record swim, I exited the water and was greeted by the many family members and friends that came to the race in support of my achievements. As I ran to T1, I thought about all the people that have supported me in my efforts of becoming an Ironman, and all the people that doubted my perseverance and questioned my reasoning and sanity for seeking such a goal. I thought about the countless times someone asked me, “Why would you want to do that?” I thought about all the times I trained to prove the naysayers wrong. Most of all, I thought about my wife, and the endless support and countless sacrifices she made to help me make my Ironman dream come true.

It was 12:30 p.m. as I rode my bike on the long and hot 112-mile bike course through the Phoenix desert. The Arizona heat was climbing and my body was feeling the affects of the scorching sun. As I rode the course that day, I thought about all the training rides during the long, dark and cold winter of Utah, mostly on my stationary trainer. I thought about the six-hour training session that was my final century ride in preparation for this race. I thought about the physical and mental pain that I experienced that day. I thought about how easy this ride was in comparison to that day. I thought about my first triathlon where I rode a borrowed a mountain bike that I had never ridden before. Most of all, I thought about my progress since that day and how much my life had changed in those two years.

As I approached the second transition, I was again greeted by family members and friends that had come to support me in what they thought was an impossible task. The love and support expressed by them that day was overwhelming.

As I left T2, I embarked on the first marathon of my life. Yes, until that point, I had never run a marathon. During the first few miles, I was elated at my progress and celebrated my preparation for the race. I was confident that my training had paid off and my fitness was appropriate for the distance. Then, like a bolt of lightning, my situation went from great to grim. All of a sudden, the desert heat took its toll, resulting in massive muscle cramps that sent me to the ground writhing in pain. This is when my dreams and romance with Ironman met reality. From this point forward, Ironman was no longer a stranger. At that moment, I was staring Ironman in the face, and I didn’t recognize him. I thought he’d have softer features and a soft encouraging voice: “You can do it!” Well, I met the real Ironman that day and he was a stranger to me. I knew nothing about him and he cared little for me.

As my muscles contracted in gripping pain, I pulled myself off the ground and continued my marathon march. As time passed, my condition worsened, yet I had over 20 miles remaining in my journey. Miles passed and the sun fell slowly beneath the southern skyline.

At approximately 7:53 p.m., after I had been racing for 12 hours and 53 minutes, I approached the finish line and could hear the voice of Mike Riley anointing the title of Ironman to those who crossed the line before me. I knew my three-year journey was coming to an end as soon as I heard those words I had dreamed of for so long: “Ben Nadolski, you are an Ironman!”

To this day, people ask me, “Why do you train for triathlon? Why do you pack a lunch when there is free pizza in the break room? Why do you smell like chlorine every morning? When did one beer become too much? Why do you shave your legs? Why do you wear spandex in public?” The answers to these questions are prophetically simple, yet emphatically difficult to convey.

To be overly simplistic, triathlon makes me a better person, husband, friend, brother, son, uncle, and eventually, triathlon will make me a better father. Before triathlon, my daily life consisted of lazily climbing out of bed, going to work, overeating, drinking beer, watching TV, and staying up late, only to repeat the same self-destructive cycle the next day.

Today, triathlon has helped me gain control of not only my weight and health, but also my life. As a result of triathlon, I’m better able to cope with the daily rigors of life and able to appreciate the life that I have. Triathlon has changed my philosophy on life to reflect that of a spiritually happy, successful, energetic and passionate person. Everyday, I see, do, and learn things that just three years ago I would have thought impossible. Each and every day, I make progress in my life. Each and every day, I make a difference, not only in my life, but also in the lives of others.

Today, as my spirit lies peaceful and content in its accomplishments, my heart remains anxious – anxious to experience the feeling of becoming an Ironman again. As my heart yearns for the means to describe my spirit’s journey, it is consciously anticipating my future Ironman journeys,, specifically the 2007 Ironman Coeur d’ Alene.

In this small town near a calm, quiet lake, my heart will rise again. In 2007, my quest to become a repeat Ironman will begin. This time, my heart bears no wounds and my spirit brings no baggage. For triathlon is a journey of one’s spirit and Ironman is a test of one’s heart.

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