Friday, August 1, 2008


For me the triathlon is the perfect event,

A contest between competing ideals.

Three disciplines whose common intent,

Moves my mind, my arms, my heels.

Before the start, my thoughts are twisted,

A struggle between my hopes and fears.

I transform myself to a sporting hybrid,

A worthy competitor for my peers.

First the cold water shocks my body,

A small preview of the forces I face.

Like an amphibian I swim steadily,

Struggling against the water's embrace.

After the swim, the air is my enemy,

My bike and I are like a sail.

This cruel opponent pushes against me,

Fatigue results from fighting the gale.

Lastly, the ground takes its toll,

My legs like wheels, carry me onward.

The finish line a mesmeric goal,

Urging my exhausted body forward.

After the race, I am a trembling leaf,

Fatigue engulfs me completely.

Uncertainty steals from my relief,

My achievement clouded in mystery.

Briefly re-energized after my rest,

I get up to search out my standing.

Formidable challengers shared my contest,

Filling pages that record their timing.

Nervously looking for the results I received,

I carefully double check their values.

Fearing the worst, not wanting to be deceived,

The jumbled lists of numbers confuse.

Excitement builds as success dawns upon me,

I eagerly wait for the public confirmation.

As the award is handed to me warmly,

The crowd backs it up with tremendous ovation.

Submitted by MikeEss

About the Author:

This poem was written for the author's daughter: "I'm a proud (non-sporting) father of a (very) competitive daughter who has accomplished some remarkable feats."

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