A small explosion cut across the honking, clattering diesel-powered vehicles sifting their way through town. Several more explosions quickly followed, not more than two yards to my right. I turned in time to see a small gang of boys dive down a dusty alley. Flashes of light danced on the asphalt, and as the explosions continued, I realized we were under siege from harmless fireworks and not irate guerrillas seeking vengeance on the foreign invaders. A relief, but unsettling nonetheless.
We were riding a high-end Litespeed, Cannondale, and Pinarello, respectively, through a town where a bicycle was often a family's sole means of transport, for both humans and all manner of cargo. We passed a man in jeans and sandals locked in concentration as he piloted his bike down the road with cords of firewood perched on the front and back as high as his shoulders. I felt silly for earlier removing my tire valve caps in an effort to save weight.
Even in the United States, triathlon is a diversion reserved mainly for the upper and middle class. An entry-level Cannondale will run you $1000, but to keep up with the Joneses at T1 you have to dig deeper than that. Combine a new bike with running shoes, coaching for three disciplines, high race entry fees, tubes, gels, bars (both aero and Clif), and apparel and it becomes apparent why the average income for a U.S. amateur triathlete is $80,000 per year. Now in its second year, the Guatemala stop on ITU's calendar of Olympic points races offers a blinding glimpse of the staggering gulf between the world's haves and have-nots.
But you would be spared many scenes of the impoverished, dirty, dangerous daily Guatemalan life if you chose to stick closely to the race organizer's suggestions and itinerary. Transportation is provided free of charge to the airport and back again, and you can choose to look away when the 6-year-old street beggars press against your car window at a stoplight. The host hotel is a foreign-owned Holiday Inn, charging western rates that we find reasonable but only the wealthiest Guatemalans can afford. There are dozens of cheaper, locally-owned hotels throughout the city, but to select one of these is "not advisable" and would probably result in the forsaking of hot water and an English-speaking reception. A potential brush with "authentic" Guatemalan life occurs with the homestays offered to a limited number of triathletes, but the stays are offered at homes of the only economic class able to indulge in such an expensive sport - the upper class. Were we naive enough to think this reflects a legitimate slice of Guatemalan society, we would expect to find two Volvos in every Guatemalan garage and a live-in maid in every Guatemalan kitchen. Triathlon is a sport noted for being demanding to the extreme, but when a race visits a 3rd world country, every attempt is made to relegate any discomfort to the racecourse.
What is our role in this microcosm of world economic status laid out before us on the triathlon circuit? As professional triathletes we do not enjoy the shelter of a boardroom in a multi-national corporation, where a visit to the Colombo office could just as well be in London, Brussels, or Sydney. Despite the best efforts of the host federations, we do come in contact with the unpleasant realities of human beings struggling to exist. We run along roads strewn with heaps of garbage and race our bikes through towns exhausted with decay and neglect. We tell ourselves the harbor we swim in is clean but refuse to brush our teeth in the sink. "How can people live like this?" we wonder as a half-hour bicycle spin in Guatemala City leaves us wheezing and choking.
We must not look away. It is tempting to return to a world of microwaves and emissions standards and forget where we have been. We must not forget, despite our revulsion. We may criticize as we look in from the outside, but there is still much to learn from the citizens of a country seemingly unable to provide the most basic needs of life. We can learn patience and generosity. We can respect their strong family bonds and their ability to improvise. While we pride ourselves as triathletes on endurance under severe physical and mental duress, our race is over in two hours. Theirs is a lifetime.
Perhaps we are not the ones to be admired.
