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Athletic Mentors » Ditch the Swim: Michigan’s Dry Triathlon Trend

Ditch the Swim: Michigan’s Dry Triathlon Trend

August 27th, 2026 by JoAnn Cranson

By:  JoAnn Cranson

If the thought of an open-water swim has ever kept you from trying a triathlon, Michigan has an answer: the dry triathlon, sometimes called a “dri-tri” or “driathlon”.  I just don’t enjoy the open-water swim and thought I would give a Dry-Tri a “try”.  It was so fun that now I’m hooked and look for any Dry-Tri I can find!

Instead of swimming, athletes paddle a kayak, paddle board or canoe, then transition into a bike leg, and finish with a run. It’s the same endurance test and the same rush of crossing the finish line, minus the wetsuit and the worry about currents or cold water. With more than 11,000 lakes and countless rivers running through the state, Michigan turns out to be perfect terrain for this paddle-bike-run format, and a growing number of towns have built entire community events around it.  

While dry triathlons aren’t found exclusively in Michigan, they’ve become something of a signature here, with several races proudly calling themselves “the only dry tri” in their corner of the state. Rivers like the Flat, the Kawkawlin, and the Rifle give organizers a natural paddling course, and the surrounding trails and back roads make for scenic bike and run legs right after. The format also lowers the barrier to entry, kayaks are available to rent at the events and since paddling is far more approachable for beginners than open-water swimming, this helps explain why these races tend to be family-friendly and welcoming to first-timers and relay teams alike.

A few Michigan events worth putting on your calendar:

  • The M22 Challenge in Leelanau County, (June) is the most popular event with a dune run, bike and then kayak. 
  • The River Trail Adventure Triathlon in Lowell (June), billed as West Michigan’s only “DRI” triathlon, with a kayak-bike-run combo through the Flat River and North Country Trail available in two distances. 
  • The Driathlon in Bay City (September), hosted by the Bay City Morning Rotary Club, featuring a 5K paddle on the Kawkawlin River, a 20K bike, and a 5K run, open to teams, relays, or solo kayakers. 
  • The Chesaning Dry-Tri (August), a “for fun” community event where racers bike the back roads, run along the river, and paddle back to the finish in Showboat Park.

Another type of dry triathlon is an indoor, equipment-based twist, swapping water and roads for controlled, gym-friendly stations.  Participants complete a set distance on a rowing machine to mimic the swim, transition to a stationary bike for the cycling leg, and finish on a treadmill for the run, moving quickly between each discipline just like a traditional triathlon.  The event keeps all the intensity and strategy of multisport racing while eliminating weather, traffic and open-water challenges, makes it an accessible year-round way to test endurance and mental grit.

Whether you’re a lifelong triathlete looking for a change of pace or someone who’s always wanted to try multisport racing without the swim, Michigan’s dry triathlon scene offers a low-pressure, high-reward way in. Grab a kayak or paddle board (or rent one), a bike, and a good pair of running shoes, and you’ll find a race close to home almost anywhere in the Mitten.

 

Heat Stroke: When the Body Overheats Beyond Control

July 10th, 2026 by JoAnn Cranson

By:  Raquel Torres

In 2013, I had the honor of receiving a personal invitation from the Dominican Triathlon Federation to represent the country as an elite athlete on the Olympic circuit. It was an incredible opportunity, but also one of the hardest lessons of my athletic life.

By then, I had started triathlon again in 2012 after nearly 15 years away from the sport, training through the winter in Michigan, mostly in controlled environments.

Then suddenly, I was racing an Olympic-distance triathlon in nearly 99°F heat in the Dominican Republic.

I wasn’t adapted. I wasn’t fully ready.

I remember Coach Mark telling me to “dig deep.” That phrase stayed with me, but the race reminded me that “deep” isn’t always about pushing harder… sometimes it’s about awareness and control.

During the race, in the 10K run, everything changed. Around the first 5K, I started to feel dizzy. My body was no longer responding the way I knew it should. Then I lost awareness. I kept moving, but not consciously, zigzagging, disconnected, running purely on instinct.

I crossed the finish line… and collapsed.

In the medical tent, I remember a deep, overwhelming feeling: I thought I was going to die.

That experience was an “exertional heat stroke”.

What is Heat Stroke?

Heat stroke is the most severe form of heat-related illness. It occurs when the body’s temperature rises above 104°F (40°C), and the body can no longer regulate its internal heat. 

There are two main types:

  • Classic heat stroke: caused by environmental heat exposure
  • Exertional heat stroke (EHS): caused by intense physical activity in hot or humid conditions 

In athletes, it’s almost always exertional.

Why Does Heat Stroke Happen?

Your body constantly tries to maintain a stable internal temperature (~98.6°F). It cools itself mainly by:

  • Sweating (evaporation)
  • Increasing blood flow to the skin

But during intense exercise:

  • Muscles generate large amounts of heat
  • High temperatures + humidity reduce cooling
  • Dehydration limits sweat production

When heat production exceeds heat loss, body temperature rises dangerously. 

At that point, the system fails.

What Happens in the Body and Mind

Heat stroke is not just “overheating”; it’s a full-body crisis.

In the body:

  • Core temperature skyrockets (>104°F)
  • The cardiovascular system becomes overloaded
  • Cells begin to break down
  • Organs (kidneys, liver, muscles) can fail
  • Inflammation spreads through the body

In the brain:

  • Confusion
  • Loss of coordination
  • Delirium
  • Loss of consciousness

That “out of my mind” feeling I experienced? That’s central nervous system dysfunction, a defining feature of heat stroke. 

Why It Happens in Athletes

Athletes are particularly at risk because:

  • They generate extreme internal heat
  • They push through discomfort
  • They often compete in challenging environments
  • They may not be heat-acclimatized

Heat stroke is actually the third leading cause of death in athletes during physical activity. 

In triathlon specifically:

  • High intensity (especially during the run) increases risk
  • Events often occur in hot conditions
  • Dehydration is common

Even elite athletes are not immune.

How Common Is It in Triathletes?

The good news: it’s relatively rare, but not negligible.

  • About 1.74 cases per 10,000 athletes in triathlon events
  • Heat-related issues (like dehydration/exhaustion) account for 58–72% of medical cases in long-distance races 

However, under extreme conditions or poor preparation, the risk rises significantly, especially early in the season or when athletes are not heat-adapted.

Sources: USA Triathlon data; published research on triathlon medical incidents and endurance heat illness.

How to Prevent Heat Stroke

This is where experience becomes wisdom.

1. Heat acclimatization

Gradually train in hot conditions over 2 weeks.

2. Hydration

Start hydrated and maintain fluid intake during activity.

3. Respect the environment

Heat + humidity is far more dangerous than temperature alone.

4. Know the warning signs

  • Dizziness
  • Confusion
  • Unusual fatigue
  • Loss of coordination

5. Adjust expectations

Sometimes the strongest decision is to slow down.

Why This Matters

Heat stroke is a medical emergency. Mortality rates can reach ~27%, and survivors may have long-term complications. 

But it is also preventable.

Final Reflection

That race in the Dominican Republic changed me, not just as an athlete, but as a human.

It taught me that toughness is not just about pushing harder.

It’s about understanding your body, respecting the environment, and making smart decisions under pressure.

Because sometimes, the finish line is not the victory.

Listening to your body is.

First Lap into the Deep End: Racing In My First Swim Meet

July 1st, 2026 by JoAnn Cranson

By:  Jeremy Sikkema

Walking onto the pool deck at the 2025 Kalamazoo Zoom Zoom Swim Meet, I had no idea what I was stepping into. There was an energy in that natatorium, swimmers warming up, heat sheets being posted, officials getting into position, and I quickly realized that I didn’t know the rules of this particular game. When do I warm up? How much should I eat and when? What does the flow of a swim meet actually look like from the inside?  I was figuring it out in real time. The meet moved fast, faster than I expected, and I nearly missed my first event scrambling to understand what heat I was in and where I needed to be.  Nothing like almost missing your gun to sharpen your focus.  It was my first swim meet Ever!

Why I Entered a Swim Meet
Triathlon has a way of expanding what you think you’re capable of. A few years ago, I would have laughed if you told me I’d voluntarily sign up for a masters swim meet. Swim meets were for “swimmers,” people who’ve been cutting through the water since age six, who can rattle off split times in their sleep, who know whether their butterfly is legal (mine is not, by the way, and I wasn’t about to find out the hard way in front of judges).

Triathlon has rewired my relationship with competition. It’s taught me that showing up to something uncomfortable is almost always worth it, not because you win, but because you grow. And at 40, the opportunities to do something truly new in sport feel rarer and more
valuable than ever.

So when the Zoom Zoom meet came around, an event put on by the Kalamazoo Masters Swim Club, which I’ve been a member of since 2022, I did what any self-respecting triathlete would do: I signed up for a lot of freestyle events on the card and figured I’d sort out the details later.

The Events (All Freestyle, All Day)
I kept it simple and stayed squarely in my lane, literally. No butterfly, no backstroke, no breaststroke. I’m not convinced any of those are technically legal when I do them, and this wasn’t the time to find out. Freestyle it was, from the 50 all the way out to the 500.

Here’s how the day went:

50 Yard Freestyle — 27.38
This was the event that woke me up. The 50 is pure sprint, and it turns out that triathlon training, with its emphasis on pacing and endurance, doesn’t exactly sculpt a blazing 50-yard speed machine. But the practices with the Masters team helped.

100 Yard Freestyle — 1:01.17
This is still not familiar territory. The 100 felt more hard from beginning to end.

200 Yard Freestyle — 2:18.79
The 200 is where I started to feel at home. This distance is still shorter than triathlon races, but felt more like the start of the sprint swim. Splits: 31.67, 1:07.22, 1:43.65, 2:18.79.

500 Yard Freestyle — 6:23.06
And here’s where I thought I would be most comfortable, aerobic fitness, but the 500 was still a grind.

The Relay Bonus
Beyond the individual events, I had the chance to swim on two relay teams — and honestly, this was one of the best parts of the whole day.
I anchored the Men’s 25+ 200 Yard Freestyle Relay and also swam the freestyle leg of the Mixed 35+ 200 Yard Medley Relay.  There’s something about relay racing, the energy of the team and the urgency of not letting people down.

What a Swim Meet Teaches You That Triathlon Can’t
Triathlon swim starts can be chaotic and crowded. You’re wearing a wetsuit, you’re trying not to get kicked in the face, and the swim is just the appetizer before the real race starts.

A swim meet is completely different. It’s “just” swimming. You stand up on the blocks, you hear a beep, and then every single ounce of effort you have goes into that water. There’s nothing to save it for. No bike. No run.

I also had a reminder that the masters swimming community is incredibly welcoming. Nobody cared that I was a triathlete who didn’t know the etiquette of a swim heat sheet. People were encouraging at the wall, patient with my rookie questions, and genuinely enthusiastic about the sport. It felt a lot like the triathlon community.

The Case for Trying New Things
Triathlon has given me an aerobic engine, a tolerance for discomfort, and a community that makes trying hard things feel normal. The Zoom Zoom meet was a chance to take all of that and point it somewhere new, to be a beginner again, in the best possible way.  There’s real value in not knowing what you’re doing. It keeps you present. It keeps you humble.  If you’ve ever wondered what you might do with your swim fitness outside of triathlon, I’d encourage you to find your local USMS meet and just show up. Seed yourself conservatively.  Stick to the strokes you know. And don’t be surprised if you find yourself wanting to come back.

Smiles Per Hour: Two Years of the South Haven Triathlon

June 29th, 2026 by JoAnn Cranson

By:  Jeremy Sikkema

There’s a stat I focus on just as much as swim pace, watts, or finish time: smiles per hour. It’s not on any results page, but it’s the number that actually tells you whether a race day was a good one. I’ve now done the South Haven Triathlon twice, and the two races couldn’t have looked more different — yet somehow both scored high on the metric that really counts.

South Haven has become one of my favorite races on the calendar, and 2025 and 2026 gave me about as different a pair of experiences as you can have at the same event. One year I had the fitness and thought I had the race. The next year I had neither — and ended up with the win. Here’s how it went both times, and what it taught me about chasing smiles instead of just chasing splits.

If you haven’t done this race, here’s the short version: it’s a sprint triathlon at Lake Arvesta Farms Sports Complex in South Haven, Michigan, and it opens with a 240-foot water slide instead of a traditional swim start. You read that right. I was lucky enough to be there for the inaugural year in 2025, and came back to defend — or in this case, avenge — in 2026. Full details, courses, and the slide itself (yes, it’s real) are on the race website:  www.southhaventri.com. Both years I raced it, the swim leg used a time trial start — athletes go down the slides three at a time, sent off in waves every 15 seconds — so in both 2025 and 2026, I had no idea where I stood in the field until results posted.

2025: Footprints in the Dirt

Coming into South Haven in 2025, I was in good shape. Training had been consistent, the numbers on TrainingPeaks looked sharp, and I lined up expecting to either win the race outright or be right there in the mix. With the time trial slide start, there was no pack to gauge myself against — just my own effort and a watch — but I went off in one of the earlier groups and figured I’d be racing toward the front of the field most of the day.

The swim and bike went about as planned. I came off the bike feeling strong and, for a while, believed I was leading the race. That’s a great feeling — until it isn’t. Running down the winding path, I started noticing footprints in the dirt ahead of me. Fresh ones. Someone else’s.

I hadn’t seen this guy at all — he wasn’t someone I’d raced before — and he’d clearly come out of T2 just far enough ahead that he was never in my sightline. No glimpse on an out-and-back, just a gap and a trail of prints in the dirt telling me the truth before my eyes could confirm it. I pushed, but the gap was there, and I crossed the line in second.

Was I disappointed? A little, in the moment. I’d come in with good fitness and high expectations. I left smiling anyway — just not as wide as I’d hoped.

2026: Carrots, the Back of the Pack, and an Empty Tank

A year later, by the time South Haven rolled back around in 2026, my training block looked nothing like 2025’s. I’d logged more boarding passes than swim, bike, or run sessions over the previous two weeks — work travel had taken over my calendar, and my TrainingPeaks fitness chart was telling a pretty honest, pretty unimpressive story.

Here’s the thing about a two-week dip in training, though: it’s a lot less catastrophic than it feels. As TrainingPeaks lays out in their breakdown of detraining](www.trainingpeaks.com/blog/how-much-down-time-is-too-much-the-concept-of-detr/), the real, measurable losses in aerobic and threshold fitness build gradually and don’t meaningfully erase your fitness until you’re well past the two-week mark — a short stretch of missed sessions dents your confidence a lot more than it dents your actual engine. I knew that going in, but staring at a flat TrainingPeaks chart the morning of a race still has a way of getting in your head.

This time, though, I started toward the back of the slide-start groups instead of the front — about 20 minutes behind the first wave off the slides. Starting deep in the field meant I’d be passing people most of the morning. With fitness I was questioning, I decided to treat every swimmer, rider, and runner I caught as a carrot. Reel them in, use them to keep pushing, and worry about the overall results later.

That’s exactly how the day unfolded. I worked through the field one carrot at a time, never knowing my actual position, just knowing I had more to give. By the run, I’d committed to emptying the tank completely. I crossed the line having left everything out there, and when the results finally posted, I’d won the race by four seconds.

Four seconds. After two weeks of plane rides instead of pool laps. After starting toward the back of the slide groups with zero feedback on where I actually stood until the results were checked. It’s the kind of finish that reminds you that consistency of years and months matter more than missing a couple of weeks.

The Takeaway

Put these two races side by side and the lesson isn’t about fitness levels or what TrainingPeaks says on a given race day. In 2025, I had the legs and lost the race. In 2026 I had doubt, a flat training log, and a start format that kept me guessing, and I won by four seconds because I raced every minute like someone was right on my shoulder.

Smiles per hour isn’t about being happy-go-lucky out there. It’s about staying present, racing as hard as you can, and being grateful that you are on the race course. Trusting that the work you’ve done — even an imperfect, travel-interrupted version of it — is usually still there when you need it. South Haven gave me a runner-up finish and a win in back-to-back years, and both versions had their share of smiles.

 

A Homage to the Boston Marathon

May 13th, 2026 by JoAnn Cranson

By:  Ellie Wardell

I want to kick off my Blog posting saga of the 2026 race year with a recollection of my Boston experience.

After finishing the race and sitting in the memory of what once was, I wish I could bottle the feelings, emotions and visual/auditory experience of a Boston Marathon weekend. Like any recollection and story telling, you start with the beginning.

I flew into Boston on a red eye from Seattle, my new home, landing at 6:30 am in MA. After some caffeine and a brisk walk toting my carry-on and backpack, I arrived at the Expo on Boylston Street. The expo was where bib pick up and merchandise was sold. Doors promptly open at 10 am, but the line was already out the door – just like any Santa House on Christmas Eve. Walking to pick up the bib was an experience in itself: the anticipation of seeing your assigned number being tangible in your hands, confirming this is no longer a life long dream but a reality. After packet pickup you are guided to the expo area where Boston merch was being sold, along with other vendors. DO NOT SKIMP OUT ON MERCH; buy all that you can. I do recommend trying on items prior to buying due to sizes running smaller. The rest of my Friday involved reuniting with my two friends who were my support crew for the weekend, touring downtown Boston and checking into our Air BNB in Brighton, MA (a 20 min train ride from downtown). Staying outside of downtown proper allowed for cheaper lodging and increased opportunity to sight-see. Dinner was provided by Brighton Bodega, which I highly recommend for their tapas selection.

We slept in on Saturday morning since we were all ragged by travel. We made a game plan for the day based on all having a must-do list of items we would like to see when being in Boston. We checked out: Public Gardens, the Public Library, the Boston commons (America’s first park), Quincy Market, Sam Adams Brewery, Saltie Girl (home of Boston’s best lobster roll) and Boston Harbor. We used public transit, buying a Charlie Card for unlimited uses for travel via bus and train. We had ice cream for dinner and ended the evening with a movie night.

On race eve, we grocery shopped for pre-race dinner. Dinner was an old classic: spaghetti, bread and salad. We checked out Cambridge, Harvard and ate bagels from Pop Up Bagel, which was where I had the best bagel of my life. Truly recommend checking out the Natural History Museum of Harvard. We hosted local friends for the evening and created posters for tomorrow. I ended my night with packing and laying out race outfits, ensuring I had all that I needed and everything was accounted for.

RACE DAY! The wake up alarm went off at 5 am to be out the door by 6 am for the train into the city. I toasted my bagel, made a water bottle with caffeinated liquid IV and got myself ready to run the race of a lifetime. Shoes donned, hair slicked back and layers zipped up I walked myself to the train stop where I was met with other fellow Boston runners. We got off at Arlington street and made our way to go-bag drop off and bus loading. The volunteers were very helpful and directions were clearly marked and easy to follow. Bus loading for the Blue group started promptly at 7:30 am. I recommend using the porta-potties as much as you can prior to the hour bus ride to Athletes Village. This was where I made fast friends with two girls who were also running their first Boston Marathon. We rode together, which made the bus ride so much more enjoyable. Once we arrived at Athletes Village: more water was consumed, layers were ditched into the donation piles and the endless trips to the bathrooms were made to feel fully prepared and ready to run. Red, white and blue groups were called which was our cue to start walking to the start line. Once 10:37 am hit, that was when I crossed the start line and made my journey with thousands to Boston. A continuous stampede and consistent roar of crowds made the race overwhelming in a good way. Never have I ever felt so supported during a race before, even amongst total strangers. It was a surreal experience that still feels like a dream. Once hitting mile 20, I felt like I was floating to the finish running on energy from crowds. On the straight away I had to fight back tears of joy and exhaustion. Through the finish chute I go, a medal placed around my neck and the post-race endorphin rush at its peak. I shuffled to get my go-bag and ventured to my meeting spot for my friends to reunite with me, which was established prior to race day. We capped off the marathon experience attending the Mile-27 party, where Sam Adams was crushed and chased back with the best gyro of my life. Our flights all took off at 6 pm Monday eve, so we walked to pick up our luggage and made our way to the airport. I had a 6 hour flight home to Seattle, where I was able to snooze and relive the marathon on repeat.

Boston Marathon, thank you for hosting me and showing true colors of humanity: goodness towards others and being part of something that is bigger than yourself. I will plan on continuing to run this course, with expectations of being fully surprised and blown away each year. For those who are flirting with the idea of going for a BQ: DO IT! It is truly amazing and you will not regret it.

Learning How to Race Again

May 13th, 2026 by JoAnn Cranson

By:  Mike Limerick

Around 2020, I started noticing pain in my right arm. It would run from my shoulder blade down into my hand. It came and went, so I didn’t think much of it at first. I figured it was posture, overuse, or something I could manage.  So I did what most athletes do. I kept training. I stayed on top of my exercises, saw a chiropractor, and worked on my posture and strength.

In 2023, it got worse. I lost half my season and had to give up on my first full Ironman. That one stung. I had been building really well and felt strong. That was the first time someone told me the issue was coming from my neck. I went through about eight weeks of physical therapy, felt a little better, and got right back into training. But something had changed. I had lost strength in my right arm, and it never fully came back.

In 2024, things were going well again. I had some strong races, a great ride at the Grand Rapids Gran Fondo, and even hit a solid time trial on the bike. For about eight months, I felt like I was back on track.  Then after racing the Grand Rapids Tri in mid June, I felt that same discomfort in my shoulder blade.

By mid July, the pain was back down my arm, and this time it did not go away.  It was constant. Sleep was rough. I was tired all the time and had a hard time focusing. I was more short tempered than usual. I tried to keep most of it to myself, but it started to wear on me.  Even asking my wife for help felt difficult. I am used to being active and independent.   Every morning I woke up hoping it would be better. It never really was.  By September, it flared up hard. At that point, I had enough. I went to see a spine specialist, and the imaging showed that my body had already started to fuse on its own.

On November 5, 2024, I had my C4 through C6 fused.  The first few weeks were humbling. Getting in and out of bed put a lot of stress on the front of my neck where the incision was. Avoiding quick movement took some effort. Asking help to lift objects over my head was annoying. However, I was surprised that I could get on the trainer and spin for about 15 minutes, but I had to sit upright and adjust my position.

A few weeks after surgery, we went on a family trip to Mexico. Even though I was in recovery, I knew the importance of staying active. I walked a lot, worked my lower body in the gym, and even swam short distances with a snorkel.  For three months, I was restricted to lifting no more than five pounds with my upper body. Therabands became my go to. When I finally got back into the gym, it felt good, but it was also a reality check. I was lifting about half of what I had been the year before. Even the bike was still tough at that point. Being in an aero position requires some neck extension, and mine was limited.  Push ups and pull ups were the hardest. Now I can do a few strict push ups and get a couple pull ups. I can even get a dip or two in. Overall, it has been a slow progress, but it is progress.

Team Athletic Mentors played a huge role in all of this. My coaches helped adjust my bike position so I could stay comfortable but still be effective. They helped guide my training without rushing the process. My teammates kept checking in and kept my spirits up. Without them, I do not think my season would have gone the way it did.

Race morning at Ironman Michigan 70.3 in 2025 tested me right away.  I found a flat tire in transition and started to panic. I could not find a pump, so I ran to some friends to borrow one. When I realized the tire was leaking from the valve stem, I honestly thought my race was over. It felt like everything I had worked for was slipping away.  I went over to the mechanics, and they were able to put tubes in just minutes before transition closed. My timing for fueling got thrown off because of all of it. I had taken a gel too early and ended up waiting about 45 minutes before the swim.  Once I got in the water, though, everything settled. It was time to go.  I stayed smart the whole race. Not chasing numbers. Just racing within myself.  When I crossed the finish line, the feeling hit all at once. Relief, excitement, and a lot of emotion.  Seeing my wife, my coach, and my teammates there waiting for me meant everything.

I had lost two seasons to this injury, and getting back to that moment was not easy. Trying to rebuild fitness while dealing with pain takes a lot out of you, both physically and mentally.  What I took away from all of this is pretty simple. If something does not feel right and it sticks
around, go get it checked out. Do not assume it will fix itself.  And when things get hard, because they will, you have to be willing to stay in it. Some days are going to hurt. Some days are going to feel off. But if you stick with it and have the right people around you, you can find your way back.

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