Tri the Impossible

By Bill Botham
Photography by Rob Forbes

Like so many others , Brandon Rogers was in an easy lull. A comfortable lull; the kind that is born of college, a happy marriage, fatherhood and a successful career. Of course, it’s also the kind of lull that tends to slowly add about ten pounds a year to a body until one day you look down at the scale and it screams back “240 lbs.” when it used to say something in the 185-190 range. And when you stand about five feet, eight inches tall as Brandon does, the screaming scale is enough to snap you out of your lull. “I was miserable the way I was feeling,” he recalls now. “I decided ‘this is ridiculous; I have to change.’” Rogers doesn’t remember specifically putting the weight on – in hindsight, “I gained the usual ‘freshman fifteen’ in college and then after I got married I ate happy” – but he remembers clearly the day he decided to lose it. And the next couple of days, too.

Rogers decided that, at least initially, his knees and ankles wouldn’t hold up to running with the additional weight so he started attending a spinning class. At that first class, he was the only male student. An athletic background (before the weight gain), a strong belief in mind-overmatter, a lot of determination and maybe a small dose of typical male pride all combined for a humorous, if painful, experience. He shakes his head and laughs now as he tells it. “I left that first spin class and went straight to the men’s bathroom and lay on the floor. The nasty, disgusting tile floor, but I didn’t care because I was that whipped but I was not going to be the only male and walk out before the class ended.” It was the beginning of something – a character trait – that would actually serve him well over the coming months, into years. Thanks to the spinning class, he quickly lost ten pounds and eventually became an instructor. But his weight stayed the same because “I didn’t change my eating habits.” He confesses now to leaving spin class and going directly to get a Bojangles’ biscuit!

By profession, Rogers is a homebuilder with M-Homebuilders, currently developing Riverwood Plantation in Columbia County. Last year, on the job, he encountered a customer who would encourage Rogers to begin running. Pavan Polur is an ultramarathoner (50-mile races) with a stocky build similar to Rogers’. “I didn’t believe him when he first told me he ran that far; I couldn’t even fathom it,” Rogers recalls. “I thought he was just entertaining me with a good story, but his lifestyle and his intensity levels inspired me.” In the course of building Polur’s home, the two became friends and Polur convinced Rogers to come running with him. Over the course of their running together, Polur “inspired me to run a half-marathon.” In what seemed like very little time, Rogers had gone from avoiding running to training for a 13-mile race! He and his wife Jennifer (“genetically gifted with her own regular workout schedule”) planned for and ran in the Country Music Half-Marathon in Nashville in April of 2009. At the point that Rogers made the decision to go to Nashville, he couldn’t even run for an hour – the race would require he run more than two hours non-stop. He worked his way up to seven miles fairly quickly and lost ten pounds in the process. Satisfied, he “foolishly” quit training two months before the race and then, the weekend immediately prior to Nashville, Rogers went out and ran 13.5 miles to prove to himself that he could do it. It was a poor training regimen that left him with one goal at the race: to not walk. Rogers completed that race, without walking, in just over two and a half hours. He recognized the error of his ways with regards to training and found himself “walking funny for a week.” Still the excitement and adrenaline levels were high as he and Jennifer had done something they didn’t think was possible. Rogers was ready to try another race, another challenge.

A few weeks later, Rogers found out about the Augusta Half-Ironman, but immediately brushed off the idea of competing. After all, he had “almost died in the half-marathon.” And recognizing that the half-marathon would be only the last leg of the Half- Ironman, it didn’t seem possible. Then, with the feeling of accomplishment from Nashville still fresh, he began to think, “what if?” With access to a pool, Rogers began to swim “a little.” And by “a little” he meant 100 yards or four-lengths of the pool and he “was gassed, finished.” It’s also less than 1/20th of the distance he would need to swim in the triathlon…in the Savannah River. Asked about his swimming background, Rogers laughs and says, “I was a barge… look at me! I left a wake.” But, from his childhood days on the Montclair neighborhood swim team, he had a little bit of stroke structure and built on that. The swimming would be the through with the “crazy idea.” He registered for the triathlon on the last day possible.

Besides the necessary training and improvement, there was one other minor hitch that Rogers would need to overcome before the event; only 90 days away. He didn’t own a bicycle. Not a Huffy, not a mountain bike, nothing. Fortunately, at a house closing, attorney and friend Scott Klosinsky was inquiring about Rogers’ training, specifically the cycling portion. Rogers explained that he had been borrowing whatever he could, whenever he could. Klosinsky, it turns out, had a tri bike – a bicycle specifically designed for use in triathlons – “in the garage, collecting dust” and offered to loan it to Rogers. In recalling how he went from the “comfortable lull” to competing in a triathlon, Rogers recalls the relationships that have developed and deepened more than the hours of exercise and pain. “Pavan got me running, Scott loaned me his bike and (neighbors) Mollie and Lauren rode with me often…they all inspired me so much. I made new friends, deepened existing friendships; I just can’t tell you how much all the relationships mean…so much more than the training or the events. There is a bond created between people when you sweat together, when you share pain together that is impossible to create when you just go grab lunch together.” Mollie and Lauren were along for Rogers’ first extended bike ride. It was mid-July and they went for a 50-mile ride; about three hours. Not unlike that first spin class with a roomful of ladies, Rogers refused to quit in front of Mollie and Lauren, but should have. “As soon as I was alone – right after Mollie turned off for her house – I literally wanted to go to the next house, lay down in the grass and sleep.” The ladies, skeptical about Rogers being able to complete the Half-Ironman with such a short training period suggested that he try a shorter triathlon, a Sprint Distance. They gave him information about one at Mistletoe State Park the very next weekend. Sprint distance triathlons are shorter than half-triathlons; this one required a 600 meter swim, an 11.8 mile bike ride and a 3.1 mile run. Rogers finished the competition and it was a turning point for him. “I was tired, but I was addicted.”

At the Mistletoe event in July, Rogers met a fellow competitor who told him about an Olympic Distance triathlon upcoming in Elberton, GA. The Olympic Distance (in August) would be about twice the length of the Sprint Distance, but still shorter than Augusta’s Half-Ironman in September. Rogers signed up, trained during the ensuing three weeks, competed and finished the event. “It was much more difficult, but it only fueled my passion,” he recalls. That increased passion helped push his training for the Half-Ironman.

Rogers joined a group of triathletes who swam in the Savannah River on Saturday mornings. He ran and biked more. But still there was a new dilemma. Jennifer was pregnant again. With two young children already at home, a pregnant wife, a full-time job and still a part-time job teaching spin classes five days a week, Rogers was challenged to find the time to train adequately. His first obligation was to his family, then to his jobs…but knowing how he had struggled with the two shorter competitions, he was not willing to go into this one unprepared. He adjusted his training schedule, getting up each morning at 4:40 a.m., teaching a 5:30 or 5:45 a.m. spin class (which doubled up as some of his bike training) and then went immediately for a run or swim. He got back home as his family was waking up and got ready for his “real” job. Saturdays were reserved for swimming the river and extended bike rides to build his endurance. This was the only way he could make sure his evenings were spent with his family – giving that up was a sacrifice he wouldn’t make. Rogers was now swimming almost two miles in the pool, running 6-8 miles three times a week and biking 50-60 miles on Saturdays.

His original goal for the big event was “just finishing; nothing more.” As he trained and became more comfortable with the distances and confident in finishing, he set a goal of completing it in less than six hours. While his confidence grew so did his apprehension. He realized that on competition day he would be alone. On his own. He had training buddies for his long runs and bike rides; he had the Saturday morning group for his river swims. But everybody would go their own pace on the big day. “If I had to train alone, I wouldn’t do it,” Rogers explains. Yet, for the six hours or so of the race, he would be alone with only his own thoughts, including doubts. Without the helpful distractions of friends, he would be free to focus on his body, his pain. And it happened. Following a personal best time in the swim, about halfway through the biking portion, Rogers began cramping, asking himself, “what in the world am I doing?” He found himself thinking about the pain and every mile yet to come. So, he fell back on an old and trusty friend. He began to sing. IPods, headsets, etc. are banned during the competition, so Rogers – a vocal music major in school – began to sing and to sing loudly. Other competitors turned in curiosity when the guy on the bike beside them began to belt out the Bill Withers’ classic, “Lean On Me.” Repeatedly. It kept his mind occupied; his spirits lifted and restored the helpful distractions. Others seemed to enjoy it and encouraged him to sing more. One Hispanic rider yelled to him, “Don’t stop singing, but sing me something in Spanish!”

A personal best in the swim, combined with a personal best on the bike carried Rogers to his sub-six-hours goal. He finished in five hours and fifty-two minutes. He also finished at 188 pounds, down from the 240 that marked the beginning of the whole ordeal. So, he had done it. He had trained. He had lost weight. He had not only conquered the Half-Ironman, but he had done it in less than six hours. He had personal bests during the competition in two of the three events. So, what was his favorite part? Not surprisingly from a guy who repeatedly said that the best part of it all was the relationships, the bonds shared, the new friends and the fraternity of competitors, his favorite part of the actual event was stopping at the finish line to high-five those who completed it after him. When most runners crossed the line and went to cool down (or collapse), Rogers stopped immediately to encourage and salute others for their own personal victories. Only a select few at the front were competing for the trophies, but these were Rogers’ compatriots, those who competed for themselves, for the accomplishment and satisfaction of seeing it through to the end. He understood what they had sacrificed to get to the finish line and being able to share their joy, their accomplishment highlighted his day.

Today Rogers continues to train and eat better; not to lose weight specifically, but to “fuel and recover.” He has his eyes on more competitions (he ran in the Augusta Chronicle Half-Marathon shortly after the triathlon) including a full marathon this winter and, hopefully, one full Ironman triathlon somewhere in 2010. Closer to home, the goal is to shave half an hour off his time in the Augusta Half-Ironman. It’s the same sort of steady progress that he’s built his “competition career” on. As anybody who trains with him or has played a part in getting him to this stage can attest, he relishes the new challenges. He also wants to help others get involved and realize that they, too, can accomplish that which may seem impossible. He’s committed to helping his friend, Seth – and others- finish next year’s event. And he’s looking forward to “expanding the circle,” getting more friends and family (someday, even his children) involved and exposed to the rewarding relationships and bonds that are inescapable in the triathlon family. “Right now, a full Ironman in the next year seems impossible…it’s a lot of pain, a lot of suffering, but… a year ago the idea of a halfmarathon was impossible; a Half-Ironman unfathomable. Then in just three or four months, what seemed impossible had been achieved. It makes me ask what else is possible... for me or anybody else.”