The sun was shining bright. It was brilliant as it reflected off the ocean. We were in Winslow Park in Freeport, ME. Maybe by this time, 8:30am, the temperature was breaking 50°. Maybe. The ocean did not look as inviting as it had two weeks ago during Labor Day Weekend when Aaron and I came by to take a dip and try the bike course. Both were not so bad. But somehow, with the 800 athletes milling about, prepping their stations in the transition area, the hundreds of onlookers/fans, the water seemed even more intimidating. Also, it was way colder.

I took a walk down to the beach to put my feet in before the start. The water was clearly not the balmy 68° we were promised. It made the hairs stand-up and the blood quicken.

And as the 9:00am start time rushed towards us, and the wet-suited athletes begun to huddle together like so many latex seals, the anxiety did not go away, but it was welcomed. What had been a new feeling only four and a half months ago was starting to feel commonplace. Lobsterman (these triathlons all seem to have such clever names) was my fourth triathlon in almost as many months. It is odd to think about.
When the Brooklyn Landsharks came together, it seemed as if it would be a fleeting moment. I knew I would need additional support to complete the training (let alone a race), and I knew I need to complete both. So, when I asked my friends for help and they said yes, I truly thought it would be just this one race. But, as we trained and trained, it started to dawn on us that one race was not enough. We all needed more. So, this summer, while we may not have done all our races together, we sure raced plenty. I did four triathlons, Don did three triathlons and one duathlon, Nems two did two triathlons, two half-marathons, one 218 mile relay race, Emily did three triathlons and a half marathon, and Aaron did four triathlons, one half marathon, and some road races thrown in for good measure. The Brooklyn Landsharks have gone farther than we all expected. And they will continue to do so…

It is hard to look back at last year and not laugh a bit. The laughter stems not from any joke or mishap, although there were many, but out of sheer amazement for what we accomplished. I for one remain shocked at how far we came as a team and beyond impressed by our individual accomplishments. For those that do not know, I could barely run a mile this time last year. In fact, it was during the initial “fun run” to kick off the season that I threw out my back and was out of commission for almost two months. Yes, I was the focal point of many jokes…which has not changed much over the course of the year. Fast forward a year and not only can I run a mile, but I can run 6.3 of them after swimming for a mile and biking for 26 more. To be honest, I may not be the fastest person out there, and yes, I may or may not have almost sunk during the last triathlon, BUT, I made it! I could only have done so with the constant support, and nagging, of my fellow Sharks, family and friends. So, I invite you to support (and nag) us this season. It is a worthy cause and I promise to do my best to give you something to support (and laugh at) for one more season.

It hardly seems like its been a year as I write this, but it has been. More than 365 days have past since the Landsharks first gathered together after the Team In Training kick-off party. Over the first of many unhealthy meals (pizza and beer in Murray Hill of all places) self-justified by our resolve, we shared our ideas for videos to be directed, parties to be thrown, t-shirts to be designed and funds to be raised. We realized right away that Don would be a perfect fit as digs at Jed and self-deprecating remarks rolled easily off his tongue. We slowly processed the intense commitment that we had just made, the depth of which none of us fully understood. We laughed – a lot.

It hardly seems like a year since the day that we all put on as many layers as we could (before piles of cash were spent on high-tech cold-weather gear) and trundled to the park for our first run. “It’s just a mile I told myself,” as I hopped on the A train from Tribeca headed for Prospect Park on a very cold Saturday morning before Thanksgiving. And it was just a mile. And the miles after that were just miles. Before we knew it we were working out for over 2 hours, riding home on our bikes in the self-satisfaction and glow of having outdone even our own expectations.

It hardly seems like a year because so much of the routine became ingrained in us, like a well-worn path through a familiar house. Slowly Friday nights in and early Saturday mornings became second nature. “Oh, Friday, I can’t hang out on Friday.” “Why?” “I have to be up at 6:45 to work out.” “Yes, that is still going on.” Slowly our legs stopped feeling like oak trees when running after ditching our bikes in the parking lot near Bartel Pritchard Square. Slowly the transition from swimming to biking became automatic and we didn’t need to stop in transition to make sure we had everything, like an old man tapping his pockets to make sure he has house keys. Slowly “I do triathlons,” started to seem natural and not at all weird to say to strangers. Slowly we started wearing way too much lycra.

It hardly seems like a year because we did 16 triathlons, 3 duathlons, 15 road races, sold 120 t-shirts and raised $34,045.

But it hardly seems like a year because I can’t imagine my life without my fellow Landsharks. This past Saturday morning I got up early to run with the Landsharks, close friends for years but ever closer each day. Only the warmth of the day felt unfamiliar. How can it have been a year? I don’t remember a time before now, nor do I want to.

Reflecting on year one of the Brooklyn Landsharks, smiles come easy. Personal highlights include sweating, creating, negotiating liquids, bestowing names, stimulating the economy, getting stronger, and sleeping. Specifically:

I perspired with friends and strangers alike for a worthy cause.

My creative inclinations got traction with our logo/t-shirt design and video projects.

My medley approach to swim legs (i.e., freestyle/treading water/breast and back stroke) left me uncontested as our aquatic anchor (read: last place every time).

Naming my race bike “ciao-colored jet plane” paid dividends in fast cycling times and bemused reactions.

Buying the latest gear increased my flair (primarily) and performance (when I remembered to charge up my devices).

I drew strength from the tightly-knit Landsharks, a supportive girlfriend, my caring and generous parents and siblings, and, well, exercising.

I slept well. Some, with early Saturday morning practices in mind, might even say too well. To them I say sometimes when you snooze, you win! And to all I say let’s make sure this year yields many more smiles than the first!

A couple months ago Jed was honored as one of last year’s top New York donors for Team in Training and he took me to the celebration dinner. Before the dinner I had been thinking that, as much as I loved the experience and feel proud of our accomplishment, I would not be ready to commit again this year. It’s too hard to ask people for money again… making time for the training was challenging with work and got in the way of my social life, etc. etc.

But then we sat at a table with a guy whose son had been diagnosed as a teenager and he and his wife had been training and fundraising for a decade. And heard from another that started his corporate team years ago and was hoping to meet the million dollars raised mark this year. And then from the Director of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society who talked about how the research they do is different from other organizations because they look specifically for scientists who think outside the box and who are willing to share what they learn with others—this means that even if their work doesn’t lead to the result toward which they are working, other research may benefit.

So, okay, here I am again. And now that I’ve committed, I’m really happy. Last winter was one of the best I’ve had. I was outside all the time, getting great exercise and meeting great people. And we – I mean the Landsharks and all of our amazing donors—raised almost $35,000 to kick cancer’s ass. The race was challenging, but the journey was well worth it.