The Ironman race is a good place to observe some weird ass people. I mean, why in their sane mind would pay around $700 to inflict that much pain on themselves?
Two reasons
The first one is pretty obvious: ego. Completing an Ironman becomes a story added to the collection of one's ego. Doing something hard that not many people can do is classic, the oldest trick in the ego book. This explains why the race organizers hand out a medal, a towel, a T-shirt, and another T-shirt that say "IRONMAN FINISHER" in the most obnoxious fonts. This Ego thing is so obvious I’m not even gonna go into too much detail. Just check their LinkedIn or whatever.
I am beyond proud to announce that I have completed an Ironman. Looking forward to applying these lessons of resilience and determination in both my personal and professional life! #IronmanFinisher #HardWorkPaysOff #NeverGiveUp #Grateful
But here’s the downfall of this: once you do become an Ironman, you join the party with thousands of others and start comparing yourself, only to realize, "He finished four hours earlier," or "She’s done it 20 times." And suddenly, you feel like you ain’t shit. And indeed, you ain’t shit. This Ego game is a dead end.
But there’s another reason that’s more subtle
During the toughest part of the race, the discomfort becomes so acute and overwhelming. For me, with about half a marathon left on the run, I couldn’t even lift my legs. When I tried, I was met with different parts of my legs cramping up in a grand orchestra of pain. At this point, the mind starts to wonder how long this suffering will persist. And the answer is clear: until I run 20 more kilometers.
Naval has a quote:
A healthy man wants a thousand things, a sick man only wants one.
Well, an Ironman also wants only one thing—the finish line. This state of single-mindedly craving one concrete goal is actually quite pleasant in a weird way. In everyday life, dissatisfaction is often vague and scattered. The suffering feels so ambiguous that it feels incurable. So I theorize that people do Ironman seeking to escape the nebulous suffering of life by creating artificial suffering with a clear end.
The irony is that, of course,
once you cross the finish line, all the life problems come flooding back. You’re left right where you started, plus dysfunctional legs. If you’re lucky, you might experience some euphoria for a couple of days, but eventually, we all come down. This explains the strange, yet common phenomenon of Ironman repeaters. They might set new goals, like finishing under a certain time or qualifying for the world championship. They dive back into swimming in the ocean of despair, biking through the cycle of suffering, and running from the inevitable come down.
And there you have it,
my sneaky attempt in announcing to the world that I am an ironman by sounding philosophical. This shit's too easy man.