An Odd Couple of Triathletes : Valley Athletes Shed Go-Nowhere Careers for Get-Up-and-Go Life Style in World of Professional Endurance Racing

Brad Kearns and Andrew MacNaughton believe they found the meaning of life while battling the exhaust and congestion of the Ventura Freeway.

Kearns commuted from Woodland Hills to downtown Los Angeles each day and had a lot of time to think while idling in bumper-to-bumper traffic. He owned a couple of three-piece suits and held a good-paying job with a powerful accounting firm. But he hated it.

MacNaughton was an actor. He had time to mull over life while driving to auditions. He had appeared in commercials, plays and student films, but he wasn’t working enough to make a good living. He grew tired of it.

So Kearns, 22, and MacNaughton, 24, exited their roads to nowhere, trading in the freeway for a freer life style.

And they didn’t journey to the Himalayas, the Pyramids or the Vatican to search for inner peace. They found serenity in swimming pools, on bicycles and while running mountain trails.

They became professional triathletes.

Weekdays are filled with a regimen of cross-training--swimming, cycling and running workouts. Weekends are usually spent competing in triathlons--endurance races that typically include a 1- to 1 1/2-mile swim, a 30- to 40-mile bike ride and a 6.2- to 8-mile run.

“I always appreciate what I’m doing now because I was on the other side for a while and for me it was just miserable,” Kearns said.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt if you’re also able to win races and make money. Kearns and MacNaughton, who train together in the Valley, have earned more than $14,000 between them in the past two months.

The triathlon, born in San Diego in the mid-’70s, began with informal races that were designed to break up monotonous 10K runs. But what once was an activity for men and women looking for a way to revitalize the running boom now has grown into a multimillion-dollar industry and organized professional sport that offers its top competitors yearly incomes exceeding $125,000.

The triathlon was brought to the public’s attention in 1979 when Sports Illustrated profiled a fledgling ultra-endurance event from Hawaii called the Ironman Triathlon, which included a 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike ride and 26.2-mile run. Three years later, ABC-TV indelibly etched in the minds of millions a picture of determination and courage: Julie Moss, who was leading the women’s division of the Ironman, collapsed just short of the finish line and was passed by Kathleen McCartney.

The images of the human spirit spurred a boom.

In 1978, 15 people competed in the Ironman. This October, organizers will limit the field to 1,525.

Today, about one million Americans cross-train regularly and 50% to 75% of them have competed in a triathlon, according to C.J. Olivares Jr., associate editor of Triathlete magazine. Last year, about 2,000 triathlons of various distances and degrees of difficulty were contested in the United States. The Bud Light U.S. Triathlon Series, a nationwide, 13-race competition that offers $184,000 in prizes.

Once derided as a flash-in-the-pan fitness activity, the sport has gained credibility. Mark Allen, one of its stars, graces the cover of a cereal box at a supermarket near you.

Kearns, who lives in Woodland Hills, and MacNaughton, who lives in West Hills, are among those enjoying the benefits of the boom.

For years, the sport and the prize money were dominated by the Great Scott trio--Dave Scott, Scott Tinley and Scott Molina--plus Mark Allen, otherwise known as the Big Four. But Kearns and MacNaughton, who between them won three events last month, are part of a new wave of competitors beginning to challenge the old guard.

“Some of these guys who are in their early 20s have seen events on TV where a guy is picking up a check for $5,000,” said Tinley, 30, a two-time Ironman champion who lives in Encinitas. “They were swimmers or runners in high school, they can ride a bike a little bit, and they say ‘Shoot, I can do that.’ And they can.”

Kearns and MacNaughton became money-earning contenders by working to become better-than-average swimmers and taking advantage of their past athletic experiences.

Kearns, 5-11, 148 pounds, ran track in high school and college. He is a rising star in the triathlon because of his rapid improvement on the bike and his ingenuity. Kearns was the first triathlete to use a newfangled, aerodynamic handlebar--designed by a ski-equipment manufacturer--that has since become the rage of the triathlon world. His strength in the bike-run combination also makes him a contender in biathlon--run-bike-run--competitions.

MacNaughton, a wiry 6-1, 148, is considered one of the best cyclists on the triathlon circuit. He is on the cover of this month’s Competitor magazine and he and Kearns will be featured with other top professionals in next month’s issue of Triathlete.

“I think the competition is healthy for everybody,” said Molina, 27, who lives in Boulder, Colo., and is considered the most consistent short-distance triathlete in the world. “Some people would like to have their positions secure, but I don’t. Everybody needs a kick in the butt sometimes.”

Mike Plant, who has participated in triathlons and authored three books on the sport, has seen challengers to the Big Four come and go. He has watched Kearns and MacNaughton come of age during the past year.

“Brad is a tremendous biathlete who is still proving himself in the triathlon world,” Plant said. “As far as MacNaughton goes, he’s kind of the wunderkind of the sport this year. It’s almost unfair to say he came out of nowhere.”

Kearns and MacNaughton did, however, come out of a sort of nowhere-land. Living and training in the Valley automatically makes the pair an anomaly in the triathlon world. The fresh-air havens of San Diego and Boulder are considered meccas for triathletes in training. The San Fernando Valley? You might as well ride your bike through a burning building. If the heat doesn’t get to you, the smoke most certainly will.

“We’re here in Smogland,” Kearns said. “The Valley is known for the girls and the shopping malls. Not triathletes.”

Time does have a way of changing things, though.

Kearns made his presence felt locally when he took home $250 for winning a three-race series at Lake Castaic last summer. In November, he placed seventh at the National Short-Course Championships in Boca Raton, Fla., and beat Molina in the first of three races in a biathlon series in Palm Springs.

In December, he won $2,500--his biggest payday as a triathlete--at a competition in Ft. Lauderdale, Fla., and in January won another race and $1,000 in the Palm Springs biathlon series.

MacNaughton’s success began in early April when he out-dueled up-and-coming Mike Pigg of Arcata, Calif., to win a competition in Louisiana. “It didn’t pay money,” he said. “But it paid respect, which is far more important.”

Since then, MacNaughton’s reputation and bank account have grown. In May, he earned $1,500 for winning a race in Monterey, then banked $4,000 for finishing second in Dallas behind Allen. At the beginning of June, he won the final race of the three-race L.A. Triathlon series and collected $2,000. MacNaughton, who won two races and tied Kearns in the other, collected a $2,000 bonus for winning the series while Kearns took home $1,700.

Kearns and MacNaughton have stayed hot this summer. On June 21, Kearns defeated hometown favorite Tinley by 30 seconds in the San Diego Invitational Triathlon and won $2,500. On that same day, MacNaughton won a $2,000 race in Monterey.

“I think both of them are very good athletes and they’ve done an admirable job in the races,” Tinley said. “But just because you win a few races, it doesn’t mean you’re a legend. There have been a number of individuals who have been bright spots. They win a couple of races in a row and everyone says, ‘This is it.’ ”

Kearns and MacNaughton are among those who think the Big Four is ripe for a challenge. Although neither has won or even been a factor in any of the ultra-distance events such as the Ironman or World Triathlon Championships in Nice, France, both feel that they are just beginning to hit their stride.

“Part of the reason we’ve improved a lot is because we exchange information and do a lot of talking and thinking about the sport and the training,” Kearns said. “I see a lot of people who go out and train without much thought about what they’re trying to accomplish.”

Kearns recognizes in other people what he once saw in himself. Logging solitary miles on a bike, swimming a few thousand yards back and forth in a pool and running alone can get lonely. Kearns dabbled in six triathlons in 1984 and seven the following year. He said he “burned out,” because he had no one to train with. But when he met MacNaughton in May of last year, he found someone who helped rekindle the fire.

“Andrew is a little different from the average competitor,” Kearns said. “He goes out with a lighter attitude and it makes him fearless in a way because it’s not the end of the world to him. He’s shown me that you can still have the killer instinct and enjoy it.”

Kearns is obsessive and can be hard-driving. MacNaughton is more laid back and flashes a dry wit.

Both were exposed to triathlon-type training while rehabilitating from injuries suffered in other sports.

While Kearns was growing up, he dreamed of becoming a quarterback. He was a 5-5, 115-pound sophomore at Taft High in 1979 when he set out to make his dream come true. “I walked out to football practice and saw all these big guys coming out in pads,” he said. “I tried out for the running team.”

Kearns finished fifth in the City Section in cross-country and ninth in the state in the mile his senior year before heading to UC Santa Barbara, where he studied business economics and endured an injury-plagued track career. It was during rehabilitation for a stress fracture before the 1984 season that he began to cycle and swim “instead of moping around and getting fat.”

MacNaughton, who grew up in Canada, ran a little in high school but was “never very good,” he said. He skied in the winter and sailed and water-skied in the summer. A doctor suggested cycling as a way to rehabilitate a skiing-related knee injury and MacNaughton began racing bicycles after his family moved to Lake Tahoe in 1980.

MacNaughton met the triathlon in 1984 when a friend, who was supposed to execute the 120-mile bicycle leg of a team competition at the World’s Toughest Triathlon in Tahoe, came to him two weeks before the race and asked whether MacNaughton would take his place. MacNaughton, who had never ridden that far, completed the relay leg, took in the atmosphere of the event and decided to give up cycling.

“The triathlon was a young sport,” he said. “The people who were good at it then were nowhere near as good as they were going to be. I figured it would be a lot easier to break into than cycling.”

It wasn’t. Nor was it particularly simple for Kearns and MacNaughton to tell their parents that they planned on making vacation-type activities their vocation.

Kearns, who had graduated from college in June, 1985, started an accounting job with Peat Marwick Mitchell & Co. the following January. Three months later he traded his Nino Cerutti suits for a pair of Speedos.

“My dad always stressed getting the most education that you could and I’m sure he wanted me to go to law school,” Kearns said. “After I graduated, I told him I didn’t want to go to law school and a few months after that I told him I just didn’t want to work. He was pretty cool considering all that.”

MacNaughton said his father, a businessman in San Francisco, warmed to the idea of having a son who was a triathlete after he came out and watched him race.

“He was jumping up and down the whole time,” MacNaughton said. “Especially when he saw the check.”

These days, Kearns and MacNaughton awake about 5 a.m. and meet to begin a varied regimen. Sometimes they will run locally, other times it’s an 8- to 9-mile jaunt in the Santa Monica Mountains. A typical bicycle ride is 50 to 60 miles through various areas of the Valley, then on to the beach. They return home to call potential sponsors, nap in the afternoon and swim in the early evening at Pierce College or Calabasas High. Speed work is done at a running track one day a week. A 100-mile ride is also a midweek staple.

And when it comes to diet, well, Kearns and MacNaughton like to eat. A lot.

Often they break for lunch at an Italian restaurant on Ventura Boulevard where they run laps--in cleated cycling shoes--between their table and the all-you-can-eat buffet. Kearns does not eat red meat, chicken, fish or dairy products.

“I used to go to a Dodger game and eat six hot dogs,” Kearns said. “But I gave all that up. If it affects my performance, it’s worth it.”

Discipline and sacrifice are watchwords used by many athletes, but triathletes are often accused of interpreting them more literally than others. The next workout, race or sponsorship phone call is never far from their minds.

“Brad can’t watch TV or read the newspaper without stretching,” said Gail Kearns, his mother. “We’ve kind of got used to having bare feet up on the table.”

The workouts alone take a toll on relationships.

“It’s kind of difficult because I’m a night person and he wants to go to sleep by 9,” said Jill Kranitz, MacNaughton’s girlfriend. “He likes to sleep and eat. There isn’t much time for a lot of wild nights on the town.”

Kearns and MacNaughton will compete today in a race at Lake Castaic. MacNaughton then will fly to Portland for a USTS event on Sunday. Kearns will rest Sunday in preparation for a biathlon in Ontario on July 19. Later this year, they will participate in the Ironman and other ultra-distance triathlons.

Kearns and MacNaughton say they would like to be competitive for the next 10 years so they can establish themselves and create opportunities to coach and hold clinics.

A clothing company has already signed them to a two-year endorsement deal. Exercise equipment manufacturers have approached them with offers. The prize money, appearance fees and endorsement opportunities will continue to stack up as long as they keep winning.

“The sport and the level of competition is still growing,” Kearns said. “If you want to survive, make some money and be happy, you have to keep changing your limitations.”

Sometimes, you just have to change careers.