Cleveland Born Triathlete: As The Elevator Door Opens...

The frigid mountain air hits you hard enough to make your hair stand. The gloomy feeling of dawn has yet to give way to a cool fall morning. Within a few seconds of landing on the first floor, you can hear a roar of laughter coming from the cafeteria. Its a few minutes past 7:00am, but almost everyone has shaken off the domineering effects of a shitty nights sleep. The world they live in is foreign; absent of any of the comforts they once knew. Everything is the same, except still so different. A strange bellow radiates from the next room. You ask yourself “What could be so amusing to these guys this early in the morning?”

Penetrating the dimly lit hallway is the inviting glow of the cafeteria; although, the frigid breeze radiating from a slightly cracked window is enough to make you wish you were back in the warm comforts of your bed. A zombie-like figure, with his head sinking low, brushes past you en route to a caffeinated oasis. It’s just another tolerable addiction in the life of acceptable addicts.

Each person in that crowded cafeteria is largely dissimilar; however, existing in each person is this innate ability to confide in their athletic counterparts. The room is overflowing with newborn friendships, disproving any notion that men of diverse cultures are inherently different. When everyone’s native language is sport, it is hard to be lost in translations.

There is something organic that pulls together this endurance crowd. In each of these men exists some sort of raw determination that forces them into discomfort every single day for a lifetime. Without any hesitations, they have accepted their destiny. Their mutual acceptance of a life of distress has brought them together on this rather usual morning. Like any morning, this peculiar group of young men basks in the absence of any real stress; for the rest of the day would be much different and they all know that.