If you ever get the chance to go to an Ironman whether as participant, volunteer, or spectator, there’s one thing you need to do. Go to the stands at the finish line at around 11pm. Stay through midnight to cheer in the last athletes to finish. All of us… Louis, Deb, Sam, Jenn, and I did this, and it remains one of the highlights of race day.
The people who finish in 16:xx are NOT pros. They’re people like me. And you. First Timers. Only Timers. Bucket Listers. People with jobs and families. They’re the Stubborn Bastards who wouldn’t quit even while every muscle, tendon, ligament, and bone in their body screamed at them to do just that. They’re Dreamers. Insane, crazy, beautiful Dreamers who decided one day to embrace the motto: Yes I CAN.
These are the kinds of people who certain segments of the triathlon community believe have no business racing an Ironman. If you can’t finish the race in 15, 14, or 13 hours they say (funny how the standard is always just slightly below whatever the douchebag making the statement is capable of themselves), you didn’t train hard enough.
BULLSHIT.
I say these races wouldn't be the same without these guys because they personify everything that is right about Ironman. Desire. Commitment. Hard work. Perseverance. The beauty of this race, this distance, is that the former couch potato who finishes in 16:59 is every bit an Ironman as the former collegiate cross country star who finishes in 8:59.
Don’t just take my word for it. Ask Chrissie Wellington, the most well known triathlete in the world today and an absolute monster in the women’s bracket, why she hung out at the finish line right up through midnight after winning her race 8 hours earlier that day in Arizona. Ask Rinny and Macca, winners of IM Hawaii this year, why they returned to the finish line later that night to welcome in the last group of racers. All of them will tell you that these part-time athletes with full-time determination are what Ironman is all about. Their personal satisfaction and sense of achievement matches or even exceeds the public glory bestowed upon any of the professionals.
And *that* is why you want to be there at midnight to welcome home the last runners. It says volumes about the Ironman community when the loudest cheers of the day are reserved for the slowest competitors. Almost invariably, these are the people who for a variety of reasons have resorted to walking the marathon course for the past 1 to 6 hours. But there’s something magical about that finish chute that seems to lift away all the aches and pains of the day, compelling athletes to RUN those last hundred yards. It’s fantastic to see in person.
You’ll yell along with the man who unleashes a primal scream after finishing in 16:30.
You can’t help but tear up yourself when you watch grown men and women cry with emotion as they cross the finish line in 16:40.
Only the most cynical person would not be inspired by watching an obviously hurt 50 year old woman limp her way in at 16:50.
Finally, what other sporting event in the world has the woman’s champion pacing the last place finisher through the last 50 yards to ensure that she finishes before the cutoff in 16:59:43?
That is the Ironman community in a nutshell. The camaraderie and support I received from fellow racers, volunteers, and spectators is something I will always remember about my first race.
The next morning, Louis and I returned to the transition area to retrieve our special needs bags. On our way in, we saw a long line of people waiting to sign up for IMAZ 2011. Some races like Arizona sell out in hours, and one way to jump to the head of the line is to either race or volunteer the year before. So here's a line at least one or two hundred people long, made up of mostly athletes who had completed the same race less than 12 hours earlier. You can't help but admire that special brand of crazy.
We also saw one of Louis' friends who, after dedicating six months of her life to training, failed to make the swim cutoff the day before. Here she was, in line to try again next year.
That my friends, is the heart of a true Ironman.
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