An irreverent club traditionally welcomes the new year by swimming, biking, running and - most important - laughing.
By MATTHEW WAITE
Published January 2, 2004
Many people spend New Year's Day nursing hangovers. Or watching a lot of football. Or just relaxing on the couch.
The St. Pete Mad Dogs hold a triathlon. They swim in 58-degree water, bike 11 miles around Fort De Soto Park, then run a little more than 3 miles.
What are they, crazy?
"Yeah, we are," said Troy Altomare, 34, of St. Petersburg.
Called the Hair of the Dog Triathlon, the race is a tradition of the St. Pete Mad Dogs triathlon club. But that's not to say it's, well, serious.
The noon start gave those out late the night before - and there were plenty of them - a chance to sleep. A handful ran in New Year's Day hats. The race officials, called unofficials, were more concerned with getting the grill going than the race. And there was a lot of, um, freelancing on the course.
Altomare's run, the final leg of the triathlon, went from a picnic table where his running shoes were to the parking lot and back. Of the more than 16,000 feet he was supposed to run, he ran about 100.
This from a man who in 2003 finished the Ironman Florida Triathlon - a full 26.2-mile run, 112-mile bike ride and 2.4-mile swim - in less than 12 hours.
"The main reason we get out here is for the camaraderie," Altomare said. "No one's out here racing.
"I may be an Ironman, but that doesn't mean I won't cheat."
The point of the New Year's Day triathlon is more social than athletic, club members say.
"It's the best way to get started on a new year," said Tony Forte, 40, of St. Petersburg.
To get into the race, you have to be a member of the club. The entry fee is an old triathlon T-shirt. The winner of the race is decided by drawing a T-shirt. If your shirt is drawn, you win, even if you walked the run, skipped the ride and thought the water a bit too cold.
To get into the club, you have to complete a triathlon - and the Hair of the Dog counts. The race is jokingly referred to as a "qualifier."
"You could walk the swim, but if you make the effort, that's good enough for us," said Lisa Kaschak, 34, of St. Petersburg.
So why swim, bike and run on a day when most people hit the couch and call it a day?
"We're different," said Tim Hudson, 44, of Belleair Bluffs.
