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I never imagined myself to be a triathlete.
I am an adventurer. A wanderer. The kind of guy who hitchhiked from Toronto to Vancouver just to see my country. The next year, I cycled more than 3,351 kilometers from Toronto to St. John’s—because why the hell not?
Yet there I was, standing on the shore of Clear Lake in Riding Mountain National Park in 2013, about to do something that terrified me more than either of those journeys: swim in open water with 109 other people.
Here’s why that scared the living shit out of me:
When I was twelve, my dad and his friend took me out to a sand dune beach somewhere near Grand Bend. We waded far from shore, me clutching a pool noodle, when they started joking about barracudas and fish that liked to eat little kids. I panicked, swam back as fast as I could, and didn’t go near the water for the rest of the day.
Guess what? That fear of water never left.
Thanks a bunch, dad!
It’s kind of crazy. I’d spent three years as a tree planter—trekking hundreds of kilometers through the bush, bending over thousands of times a day to shove seedlings into the ground. I’d encountered black bears on trails. Survived clouds of blackflies that would drive anyone insane. Worked in rain, heat, and cold that broke most people who tried it.
But swimming? In a lake? With seaweed tangling around my legs, pulling me under to God knows what would eat me alive?
Yeah, no thanks. Fu*k that!
Why Triathlons?
This is going to sound stupid, but I was heartbroken.
I’d moved to Winnipeg to be with who I thought, at the time, was the love of my life. When that fell apart, I felt aimless. I lost all purpose and I needed a proper cure for my depression (because drowning it in alcohol just wasn’t cutting it).
I needed something that matched my intensity. Something that would push me physically the way my adventures had. Something that would be completely mine.
Triathlons became that something.
So, I started with a sprint because I honestly had no idea what I was capable of.
Could I handle the Olympic distance? I don’t know. Maybe. But a sprint? 750-meter swim, 20k bike, 5k run? That seemed like the perfect distance to test myself without biting off more than I could chew.
As for training? I went to the pool a few times. Swam some laps. Counted them in my head because I wasn’t tech-savvy back then. No Garmin. No Strava. No apps.
I also figured my fitness from tree planting and cycling would carry me. The bike? No problem. The run? I could suffer through anything. The swim? Well, I’d just have to not drown and hope for the best.
That was the plan.
Riding Mountain Triathlon 2013