Ted the Biker — Learning to Fly on Two Wheels
By the time Ted decided to enter triathlons, he already had two of the three sports under control. He could run. He could swim (in his own very Ted-like way).
But cycling?
That was a different story.
Ted hadn’t ridden a bike seriously since he was eleven years old. Now, suddenly, he needed to ride over a hundred miles in a single race. His old, heavy bicycle wasn’t going to cut it — so he did what any determined dreamer would do.
He bought a sleek, lightweight titanium racing bike.
It was beautiful.
It was fast.
And it was completely out of control.
The bike responded to the slightest movement, and Ted found himself flying — and then falling — with impressive regularity. He hit the pavement often enough that elbow pads and knee pads became standard gear. But he didn’t quit. Instead, he learned. He figured out how to maintain the bike, how to fix flats, how to change tires — skills he’d never imagined needing later in life.
Then there was the seat.
A racing saddle is not designed for comfort. It is designed for speed, and speed alone. After long rides, Ted could barely sit down — so he came up with a training plan only he could invent. He bought two extra bike seats and placed one on his office chair and one on the driver’s seat of his car. If he had to suffer, he might as well get used to it.
Ted was officially becoming a cyclist.
The European Triathlon — August 1985
After completing a quarter triathlon in Colorado, Ted set his sights higher — much higher. He entered the European Triathlon in Almere, Netherlands, a full Ironman-distance event:
2.4-mile swim
112-mile bike ride
26.2-mile marathon
A day’s work for someone else. A life milestone for Ted.
When he arrived at the bustling gymnasium to register, surrounded by athletes speaking languages he didn’t understand, a volunteer kindly asked if he needed anything. Ted said, “Yes, I need a bathroom.”
After a long wait, the volunteer returned with two large white towels and announced, “Your bath is ready.”
It was Ted’s first international lesson in vocabulary. From then on, he made sure to ask for the “toilet.”
A Missing Part and a Missing Beat
The day before the race, Ted inspected his bike — and his heart sank. The derailleur, a crucial gear-shifting component, was gone. Whether it had fallen off in transit or been taken, he never knew. What he did know was that without it, he had no race.
So Ted did what Ted always did. He walked his bike through town until he found a bicycle shop. Miraculously, they had the exact part he needed. Crisis averted — barely.
Cold Water, Lightning, and Waiting
Race morning dawned gray and cold. The swim would begin in the North Sea, where athletes waded into frigid water wearing little more than determination and skimpy racing suits.
Then the sky exploded.
Lightning streaked across the clouds. Thunder cracked overhead. The swim start was halted. Rain poured down on the waiting crowd. Vivian and Elizabeth, loyal supporters, stood under umbrellas while the swimmers who had already entered the water came out shaking with cold — and with no towels to warm them.
For an hour, everyone waited in the downpour.
Then, just as suddenly, the storm passed. The sea called. The race began.
Rocks, Rain, and a Stranger’s Kindness
The bike course was no kinder.
Heavy rain returned, soaking the streets. The Netherlands, much of it below sea level, has roads that reveal their rough edges when saturated. As the asphalt softened, sharp stones pushed upward — perfect tools for puncturing tires.
Ted flatted once.
Then again.
He used both his spare tubes. Then came a third flat.
That should have been the end of his race.
But endurance events reveal something beautiful: not just toughness, but generosity. Another triathlete stopped and gave Ted his extra tire — sacrificing his own backup so Ted could continue.
Ted never forgot that act of kindness. Years later, he tracked down the man — Jan Van Elswick. They exchanged letters over holidays, and Ted sent him one of his sculptures, Essence of an Elephant, as a heartfelt thank-you for a moment that had meant everything.
Across the Finish Line
Through cold water, lightning delays, missing bike parts, flat tires, and foreign-language confusion, Ted kept moving forward.
And somehow, improbably, gloriously —
Ted finished his first full triathlon.
Not because it was easy.
Not because he was a natural cyclist.
But because when things went wrong — and they always did — Ted never stopped finding a way to go on.
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