September 10, 2012

The Art of Finishing the Ironman Triathlon







First they swam 2.4 miles in the cold Hudson River. That effort was followed by a 112-mile bicycle race, which led to the grand finale — a 26.2-mile marathon.

You might think it was exhausting watching about 3,000 athletes exert all that energy during the Ironman Triathlon earlier last month in New York City. But, actually, it was exhilarating. Why do they do it? And how can men and women from all over the world still have a smile on their faces and ample energy at the end of an eight-hour ordeal?

On a balmy summer evening, Roberto and I stood in the bleachers near the finish line because we wanted to cheer our intrepid friends Masami Noro Bell and her husband Alex. For years they have been avid participants in various triathlon events. 

Yet to be so close to the action as Masami and Alex crossed the finish line together was moving in ways I hadn’t expected.

The 2012 London Olympics was wonderful. Watching the world’s greatest athletes compete for honors held the television audience (me included) spellbound. Even so, while I was amazed by the human capacity to exceed expectations, I felt as though I was watching a movie. A beautiful spectacle, to be sure. Yet I was removed, distant. The unending flow of imagery was almost surreal. A dream.

Witnessing a critical portion of the Ironman Triathlon — finishing — I was literally swept up in the thrill of personal victory and felt so happy for my friends and the other athletes. Many  people in the stands were also cheering their friends or urging complete strangers to finish strong. It was a sweet, ecstatic celebration with balloons and laughter and Kodak moments. A throw-back to simpler times, perhaps, when communities gathered at school events or state fairs. The group dynamic was uplifting and inspiring. For two hours we stood cheering each person who triumphantly made it to to the finish line, and we enjoyed every minute.

Observing the sheer physical expression of athletes was a visceral experience that made me ponder the demands of my profession. My work as a designer of brand identity solutions for global corporations usually demands that I live in my head for hours at a time, over weeks at a time. My creativity and collaborations with our studio artists no longer often demand that I pick up an X-Acto precision knife or colored pencil. Once the concept and designs are originated in our minds and discussions and reviews and sketches are fine tuned, much of the production is now accomplished with keyboard strokes — programs, all in the realm of 1's and 0's.

And yet before that happens, we spend a lot of time with people — our clients — as we analyze how to best serve them. To create a lasting identity solution we must know as much as possible about mission, temperament and culture. I love this aspect of the work. In a sense, we’re rubbing shoulders in much the same way as the athletes who begin the competition in a tight group and then spread out as they strive to achieve their goals.   

Also, just as the amazing Iron Man athletes must be site specific when learning the swim, bicycle and marathon routes of each race, I spend a good deal of time visiting the hotels and restaurants we help design to oversee installations and make adjustments as needed. The truth is, some of our projects take years to complete. And so, as I pondered the tremendous effort of the athletes, I began to realize that my own work is a mental, physical and emotional endurance test.  

It must also be said that the Iron Man event we witnessed is not only a physical challenge. It is a “head” game that must be mastered to succeed. The day after the race Masami and Alex joined us for a champagne brunch. I’m not sure how the other athletes reward themselves for training so hard, but for as long as I’ve known Masami she has enjoyed celebrating the good life with champagne. Between sips, she and her husband talked about the many races they’ve participated in.Their experiences have taught them how to survive the grueling elements of swimming, biking and running. 

Maybe I’m not so different, after all. In my own way, I’m doing back flips and sprinting through creative marathons that last anywhere from a few days to a week and projects that can last several years. I balance numerous printing press checks and revisions, client feedback, more revisions — and no sleep! — as I race toward my deadlines with a smile on my face.