I really love triathlons. Many triathletes will tell you hammy stuff like, “It’s not about finding your limits. It’s about finding out what lies beyond them.” While that’s true, that’s not what makes a tri unique from just exercising around home.

I really love triathlons because I really love the people that come with them.

I love how confident the triathletes are as they strut around in their crazy, colorful bike jerseys with swim caps that squish their faces. I love how they shamelessly dance and sing to finish line music as they drip with sweaty river water. I love their infectious excitement as they take in the atmosphere around them. I love the variety of people there, all shapes and sizes. (There’s a misconception that a person has to be extremely fit and athletic to do a tri. This picture isn’t at all accurate.Many people people train for tris as a way to lose weight or go at their own pace or are like me and just do tris for fun.) Most of all, I love the incredibly encouraging environment.

I remember when my dad and I completed our first triathlon, all we talked about on our way home was how we had never been somewhere with so much positivity and love, especially from complete strangers. We were blown away. I have very vivid memories from that first tri of someone shouting, “Go, 12-year-old girl!” as I slipped on my shoes at my transition station and of muscly, tough men praising, “You’re kicking tail, girl!” as they passed by on the run.

At the last tri I did, most of the exhausted participants stayed right by the finish line until the oldest and final finisher, a man in his 80s, crossed to victory. When he did, we all jumped up on our sore legs and cheered and clapped for him. When you’ve sweated and pushed through such an event together, it really brings about a sense of camaraderie and unity.

At every single triathlon I’ve ever been to, whether as a participant or a volunteer, there has been this same shared uplifting mindset. Whether someone is passing me or I’m passing them, the competitor cheers me on, and I do the same for him/her. With every “on your left” comes an “I like your bike.” When someone slows their run to a walk, they receive a collective, “You can do this!” from everyone nearby. If I’m not feeling motivated on an early tri morning, it’s not a problem. In the first five minutes of setting up my transition station, I will feel empowered by the others around me.

As a result, these sweaty, grease-stained, helmet-haired people are the most incredible and beautiful I’ve ever been around. If you ever doubt the good in humanity, go to a triathlon. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.