Just call me Iron Man. (No. Don't. Not even close.)

Every year, Coronado hosts a triathlon, and there's a group of friends and colleagues here who are really getting into the triathlon scene. They have been training together and were very excited about this upcoming event.

Myself, not so much.

I can't really swim. I don't much like to bike. I've been a reluctant runner lately because of my hamstring, which has been causing me some pain. But, as it turns out, you can enter the competition as a team of three, each person doing one leg.

Our friend Rudi would swim, Brent would bike, and I would run the 5k.

Race day was pretty exciting: super high-energy, casual athletes warming up alongside professionals. Rudi is a strong swimmer, so we expected him to do really well on that first leg.

The swim is two laps around the buoys in the ocean, and as people started finishing the first lap, we didn't see him. Finally, we caught site of him still out to sea, really lagging behind. He came out of the water huffing and puffing -- and kind of blue in the face, saying that he was done, he couldn't do the next lap. 

We were really disappointed, but as his breath came back he explained that he had been kicked in the face early on (a common problem during a triathlon swim) and had swallowed a bunch of water. We were disqualified, but the officials let us finish the race.

So Brent took off on his bike, and I did the run. I passed a lot of people, which is fun even when you know that they've already completed a swim and a bike ride, and you're totally fresh. Everyone was encouraging and positive, and I had a great day even though we weren't awarded an official time.

We all went to a friend's house afterward for some champagne and an incredible breakfast. The true triathletes among us were already planning for the next one. I could definitely see getting in as a team again -- but the "sprint" distance was good enough for me.