Japan’s Oldest Triathlon Goes Decimal

 

The Year of Tomeru

Every year in Japan since 1995 there is a vote to choose one kanji character that best represents the events of that year; for 2020, I’d like to nominate “止”（read as tomeru, literally “stop,”） as a worthy candidate. This year, even before the cherry blossoms had a chance to attract crowds of admirers, thick clouds of tomeru swarmed the wireless waves like mosquitos at a lakeside barbeque; at home, television and internet cables spewed them forth in great black spurts; and in the public square, big fat ones rested lazily atop colorful event posters.

 

Shock and a sense of loss accompanied the first incidence of seeing a tomeru fixed atop the name of an anticipated event like a cheap tombstone; now, with an entire year’s worth of events likewise buried, and much in the manner that an individual grave appears less tragic when seen from the vantage of a hilltop overlooking a vast cemetery, spectators have grown numb to the spectacle. Even the events, it seems, have come to accept this little piece of fate and last twist of the knife — they go without a whimper.    

 

At this juncture, I should make clear that my purpose is not to explore the cause of this tomeru pandemic nor consider its necessity; rather, I wish to use it as a backdrop and a stage for Japan’s oldest and hardest triathlon.

 

The Birth of Kaike Triathlon

Back in 1981, members of the Kaike Inn Union gathered to plan a suitable special event for the 60^th anniversary of the Kaike Onsen, a beachfront Japanese style hot spring resort. Situated on a coastline of white sandy beaches and giant black pines, Kaike Onsen had already established a nation-wide reputation as a health spot: the hot water of its hot springs sooth a wide variety of ailments and the shimmering waters of the Sea of Japan invigorate. They therefore concluded to build upon this brand identity by creating an event that epitomizes incredible health while also utilizes the picturesque natural surroundings.

 

What they brought into existence not only adequately achieved their purpose, but also would gradually develop into a completely new identity for Kaike Onsen that has now, by some standards, eclipsed the old. On August 20^th 1981 at 7:00 a.m., 51 men and 2 women took part in Japan’s first triathlon.

 

 

Molding Tetsujin

Since its humble beginnings, the race has grown to such a gigantic proportion that it attracts over 1,600 applicants from all over Japan vying for the maximum 940 individual and 80 relay team slots. At first glance, this may not seem like an especially large number, but taking into consideration the nature of the task, it certainly should.

 

The race opens with athletes in the Sea of Japan where they battle waves, currents, and crowds in an open water 3 km swim (120 lengths of a standard 25 meter swimming pool) along the coastline. Returning to shore, drenched athletes peel off wetsuits and trade goggles for cycling glasses and set out on a 140 km odyssey that takes them along river levee roads, through large swaths of wetland rice fields, up 1,800 meters worth of elevation at Mt. Daisen, and through shady tunnels created by leafy branches of old growth beach forests. Finally, the cycling shoes come off, and on come the running shoes, and athletes embark on the final leg of the journey: a full marathon. This 42.195 km course begins in Kaike Onsen, continues along the Sea of Japan into the city of Sakaiminato, and then turns back towards Yonago and the finish line located on a 400 m track in a large athletics park.

 

If all of this still doesn’t sound difficult enough, well then! here comes the best part: the competition is held in the middle of July when temperatures reliably exceed 34 degrees! This is not an accident; in fact, enduring Japan’s iconic summer sun is considered such an integral part of the challenge that it inspired the competition’s moniker as “Red Hot Kaike”.         

 

Feel confident you can reach the finish line? A resolute “Yes” is the absolute minimum requirement (there are many more requirements) for even thinking of signing up. Even then, many challengers can tell you from experience that saying is one thing and doing something else entirely: 20% that start the race do not finish. Those that do complete this race within the time limit rightfully earn the title of tetsujin (literally “iron human”).  

 

Tetsujin Vs. Tomeru

The slogan of Kaike Triathlon is “Brave and True”, and under this banner many thousands of men and women have gathered to test themselves in a ritual that demands both. In the seas off the coast of Kaike Onsen where they swam, on the roads winding the foot of Mt. Daisen where they cycled, and on the streets of Sakaiminato where they ran, sweat from the burning bodies of these tetsujin has fallen; like sadness shed with every tear, the will to overcome spilled out in sweat. Over the years, this indomitable spirit has seeped into more than just the land and sea along the course.

 

This year should have marked the 40^th anniversary of the competition, and the organizers had planned on making it a race worthy of the milestone; however, government measures and public pressure to completely stem the spread of a contagion necessitated action, or, perhaps more accurately, inaction. With hearts of lead, tetsujin watched as even this legendary race began corroding under intense pressure into a “retire” before finishing, a “did not run”, and a red-lettered “tomeru”. The integrity of this historical competition and the spirit deposited in it fell into question.

 

Happily, it is a spirit that doesn’t like bending, and many of the organizers — tetsujin themselves — possess it. Unwilling to admit complete defeat to tomeru, they came up with an audacious counteroffensive called the 39.5^th Kaike Triathlon.

 

How is Kaike 39.5 Different?

More than what it is, it is what it isn’t that defines 39.5. First, it is not a full-blown competition: no awards await the fastest athletes in each category. Second, the main adversary is not oneself: the distance and difficulty of each stage have been greatly reduced. Third, it isn’t a surrender in the recently popular Orwellian manner of “not losing” by “not trying”: it is a defiant “no” to tomeru and a signpost to another way. 

 

The competition still begins with swimming; however, unlike prior years, all 1,000 athletes don’t start in one large flotilla upon the waves of the Sea of Japan. Instead, each athlete completes a 2 km swim on an individual basis and self-declares the result before arriving on race day.

 

Next, the cycling portion has also undergone a transformation. Instead of traversing the 140 km road course, athletes set up their bicycle on stationary rolling devices spread out across a grassy field. Then, at the starter’s signal, they peddle an equivalent of 50 km. Peddling in place means that athletes encounter no air resistance — a double-edged sword. Though high rotation speeds are easier to maintain, the cooling factor of actually moving at high speed is gone. So that athletes don’t overheat, volunteers circulate and spray them with ice water.

 

Third, besides the course, the run remains largely unchanged. Athletes still begin as soon as completing the cycling stage by dismounting, changing shoes, and heading towards the start line. For 39.5, the course takes them down a 16 km seaside cycling trail that connects Kaike Onsen to Yume Minato Tower and then back for a total of 32 km. Closed to traffic, the route is flat with magnificent views of the Sea of Japan, white sandy beaches, Japanese black pine forests, and, towering in the distance, Mt. Daisen.

 

Finally, the largest difference between 39.5 and all of the previous iterations happens at the finish line: when each athlete crosses, they turn and commend the organizers and volunteers for their audacious bravery.