By the time Paul and I stumbled out of bed, brewed our coffee, and drove to the Great Floridian Triathlon, we could see heads bobbing across the vast expanse of water.

Clermont was the perfect venue for the event. Lake Minneola is dotted with docks and framed by graceful old oaks, and a bike trail curves around part of it. The swimmers we watched competed in the Iron Man section of the event, and their 2.4 mile trek across open water was only the beginning of what would be a very long day for them. The next phase in this brutal test of fitness, endurance, and mental stamina was a 112 mile bike ride – yes, you read that right, 112 miles – followed by a run of 26.2 miles.

Competitors from other sections fretted on the shore, waiting for the Iron Man competitors to finish, so the course could be changed and they could start. Rescue boats accompanied the swimmers. Some of the swimmers finished strong, sprinting as soon as their toes reached the ground, gulping the water they were offered and rushing to strip off their wetsuits and grab their bikes. Others hobbled to shore, suffering from cramps and exhaustion, some vomiting a little.

Finally, only two stragglers were left. I wondered how it would feel to be at the very back of the pack, thrashing through the waves when the others had finished. As one of the swimmers approached, a spectator next to me began to applaud wildly. “That’s Marjorie,” she said. “She’s seventy years old.”

Marjorie’s feet found the shore, and she wobbled on them, but she caught my eye and grinned at me. I would have cheered but I was crying too hard. The last swimmer was clearly struggling, but he made it, also. He only had one functional arm; the other was palsied. They both disappeared on their bikes, and I didn’t see them again.

I often found myself moved to tears as I witnessed so many people pushing themselves beyond what you would think was possible, achieving personal goals and victories. The winner of the Iron Man section was Joe Bonness, who jogged across the finish in 9 hours and 40 minutes – not a spring bunny himself, as he was entered in the 50 to 54 year old age group. We hooted for him as he finished, and then drove home to watch a spectacular sunset while we sipped our wine.

Before I crawled into my comfortable bed, I thought of the athletes still out on course – with Marjorie probably among them – who would continue until they finished or the cutoff time of 1 a.m. was reached. If you ever need some inspiration, come watch this annual event.  You’ll go home with a bucketful of it.