It goes something like this:
First, a 2.4-mile swim with only hands to guide through water so choppy, the waves pulled to great peaks and valleys by the "ho'omumuku" crosswinds, that it saps the energy from your bones, leaves them feeling hollow but somehow heavier than they had been before.
Then, 112 miles on a handbike through endless miles of twisting, turning, double-lined track. The only sound you can make out over the incessant buzzing of the wind in your ears, the beat of your own heart, filling your head near to bursting as you pump, pump, pump your arms, revolution after grueling revolution.
And finally, when it seems impossible to go on, the day's scorching temperatures abating only briefly as the sun begins to fade beyond the horizon, when it seems a 26.2-mile wheelchair run along blistering blacktop through barren fields of black lava might actually be the thing that pushes you to your mental and emotional limit, that finally shifts the brick and mortar foundation of your resolve, you – ragged breath, aching limbs and all – gather yourself and complete your final transition with the help of spotters.
You strap on your gloves, situate yourself as best you can in the seat of your racing wheelchair.
You start off again.
***
"I was in pain," Minda Dentler says, the statement followed, unbelievably, by a laugh. But it's really not all that surprising for Dentler, the first female handcyclist to complete the Ironman in Kona, Hawaii. For Dentler, a triathlon isn't just another challenge to overcome in a life that, to this point, has been full of challenges – it's the reward following weeks, months of training and preparation...following years, decades of life spent in sedentation.
And really, what's one day of pain in a life spent overcoming a labyrinth of obstacles?
***
It's interesting to hear the drawl of the Pacific Northwest creep slowly, like sap down the nubby ridges of a tree's bark, into the voice of a woman from India. But Dentler, born in Bombay, raised by her adoptive family in Spokane, Wash., and now a resident of New York City, slides easily into the parlance when the subject becomes more to her liking.
"I actually grew up watching the Ironman on NBC, or maybe it was the 'Wide World of Sports,' with my father," Dentler says. "And I remember thinking how incredible these athletes were to push themselves to the limit and finish what looked like a really grueling race. And I never would have thought that, fast-forward 20-some years later, I would be crossing that same finish line."
In a manner befitting a woman who has now completed the Ironman three timesa - at the championships in Kona, in Louisville, Ky. and at Challenge Roth in Germany - Dentler likens her struggles, her frustrations as a child, a young woman, dealing with the everyday trials of a physical disability, to being denied something akin to a finish line.
"I think growing up with a physical disability, it was a bit challenging just because I felt like I didn't finish," she says, punctuating the thought with a sigh. "I was embarrassed because I had to wear a back brace and leg braces and I couldn't do sports and all the other things that my friends and family members were doing, so in a way I felt left out."
Even before she came to know the joy that comes with competing, of throwing herself – body, mind and soul – into training, of setting herself against the world's elite able-bodied athletes and testing herself in a way that few people can, or ever would, Dentler knew she wanted more.
She became convinced that, though she loved Spokane and will always consider it home, she was destined for a "bigger life," than anything The Lilac City could ultimately offer her.
But that opportunity for something bigger almost never came for Dentler.
***
Born in India, Dentler contracted polio before her first birthday, and due to the country's lack of infrastructure, she went for years without proper treatment. But Dentler, ever the optimist, considers herself to be the winner of something she likes to call "the human lottery," landing as she did with her adoptive family in the U.S.
Don't think for a second that Dentler's adoptive parents took it easy on her, treated her differently than they did her three siblings because her mobility was impacted.
"I still had to complete the same chores as my siblings and practice the piano and do my homework and all of that. I'm really happy that they raised all of us to be responsible and independent and curious people. And I'm forever grateful to my adoptive parents for basically giving me a chance at life."
Asked about what it was like growing up in Spokane with her physician father – his own father was a polio victim – and the rest of her adoptive family, Dentler began speaking, not of the town, of the Spokane Symphony or the annual Lilac Festival, but of her "large family."
"I guess that makes for many rowdy and fun and exciting moments,"Dentler says, a smile evident in her voice. "I actually have a sister the exact same age as me, so it was great having a relationship with my sister so close in age."
Still, Dentler's physical disability – though she didn't let it stop her – certainly slowed her progress, kept her on the sidelines far longer than she now likes to admit. She spent years as a self-proclaimed "couch potato" before realizing the world had so much more to offer, if she could just get out and go for it.
Now, three Ironmans, a cross-country move and one child later, Dentler's living life as she always dreamed.
"I think it shows that ordinary people can do extraordinary things when they're dedicated to making it happen," she says, speaking of completing an Ironman, though she very easily could have been discussing the entirety of her own reshaped life. "I started athletics as an adult. I basically went from being a couch potato, to learning how to handcycle at 28, swimming at age 30, racing a wheelchair at 31 and finishing an Ironman at age 35.
"I think that's a pretty fantastic progression."
***
When Dentler crosses a finish line, as she did for the very first time as an Ironman in Louisville in 2012, and for the first time at the Ironman World Championships in Kona on Oct. 12, 2013, there's an immediate feeling of elation, an instantaneous and palpable sense of rightness.
In fact, when she finally completed Kona in 2013 after failing in 2012, Dentler was so elated that "I couldn't sleep until 2 p.m. the next day," she says. "I was so excited. But I was in so much pain that my shoulders – I couldn't lift my arms very high, and it was really hard to recover from that."
It took her "a couple of days" to get back to normal after the race, to get back to a sense of physical and mental homeostasis. But while many people would look at what they'd done, would look at having become the first female handcyclist to complete the Ironman in Kona in 2013, clap their hands, call it a job well done and move on, Dentler decided she wasn't finished.
Completing Kona brought Dentler's triathlon and road race total above 30. She's also won two USA National Triathlon titles. But in true Minda Dentler fashion, looking back on that day in Oct., looking back on the exhaustion, the mute conversations in her head as she doggedly chased her goal, the hours of pain and frustration, the elation at the end of it all, it wasn't just the completion of the event - her reward for all those weeks of training - that left her feeling so woozy with emotion.
It was seeing her friends and family, those who have supported her through a lifetime of challenges, through a fight at home and abroad against the devastating effects of polio that left her smiling.
"I was so happy to be done. I was in so much pain. It was great to finally be able to stop - so happy. It was 14 and a half hours of constant movement," she says. "But I was also really happy that my friends and family were there to support me and I was able to see them at the finish line.
"It was a pretty amazing moment."
