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Maybe the modern American triathlon is a victim of its own success, becoming too common to be special.
Maybe the Wilkes-Barre Triathlon, suspended this year for the first time since it’s inception 35 years ago, is a victim of old age. It’s a very common story: A popular event becomes too dependent on too few; the same volunteers get tired of doing the bulk of the work year after year, and no one steps in when they step down.
It’s also possible triathlons in general are becoming antithetical to our times. The idea of swimming, biking and running for several hours is hardly compatible with an age of instant answers from Alexa, instant movies from Netflix anywhere, and instant any-flavor-you-want personal coffee courtesy of those ubiquitous K-cups.
Of course, its certainly possible — and preferable — that the Wilkes-Barre Triathlon will return, better than ever after a single season hiatus, rebooted for a new generation.
But for now, the news is as sad as the empty look on the local triathlon’s website, a small paragraph of black letters on a big page of yellow nothingness:
THANK YOU!!
The Wilkes-Barre Triathlon has suspended operations and will not host an event in 2017. The Wilkes-Barre Triathlon would like to thank all of the generous sponsors, volunteers and athletes who have participated in the event over the last 35 years.
And with that, a regional jewel’s glitter disappears, like a once-cherished locket shoved into a box in a drawer in a spare room.
By triathlon standards, the Wilkes-Barre competition was venerable. The swim/bike/run idea is typically dated to 1974 with the running of the first Mission Bay Triathlon in San Diego, when 46 people took a stab at swimming 500 yards, biking 5 miles and running 6.
The local event began in 1982, just four years after the triathlon idea was taken to the nth degree with the birth of the Ironman in Hawaii — 2.4 miles in the water, 112 on wheels and 26.2 by foot.
At its peak, the Wilkes-Barre Triathlon attracted top professionals, and even served as Ironman qualifier.
And while it slipped from those lofty heights, popularity never seemed to be a problem: It drew more than 300 entrants last year.
Yet this year it is gone, albeit with a promise from longtime director Joanne Gensel that it will return.
“There are so many triathlons now,” Gensel said. “There are tons of them out there. We’ll probably get new members to help form a new committee.”
“There’s going to be some disappointment with the athletes,” Gensel conceded, “but it’s for their benefit, so we can make it better.”
With luck, absence will make the heart grow fonder, and many who have taken the event for granted will realize pulling something like this off annually for three and a half decades requires commitment from volunteers and cash from sponsors. A one-year break could prompt more of both to come forward.
Here’s hoping.