Iron Angels

We were at a birthday party this weekend and I had the opportunity to chat with an IronMate (Amy) about her husband's experience at IMLOU a couple of years ago (we'll call him Mike). I asked Amy to chat with Doug about her experience as a Sherpa/IronMate. "Maybe you could chat with my husband about what he's in for during the next 20 months. . . ?" I suggested. She smiled and patted my arm. "It's probably best he doesn't know," she said. Yikes. Just yikes.***

I laughed and asked about his race. She told me an incredible story. It went like this:

Mike really had a hard time at Lou. He had trained hard and knew what to be prepared for, but he wasn't really prepared for the hills. He knew what pace he needed to keep on the walk in order to make the cutoff, but the hills. He just wasn't prepared for them.

He was behind a guy on the bike who bonked. Of course he had no way of knowing the guy was bonking, but boom. There he was, lying in the road. He had fallen off of his bike right in front of Mike. Mike didn't have a chance. He barreled into the guy, flew over his handlebars, and wound up in the ditch. He sat there in the ditch, stunned. "Well, there goes my Ironman," Mike thought. "This is just something I can't help. I did my best and apparently, today wasn't my day." As Mike stood up, he realized nothing hurt. He wiggled his fingers and his toes, stretched out his back, and said a prayer of thanks. He was uninjured. No bumps. No bruises. No pain of any kind. "Wow. If I'm in this good of shape, my bike must be totaled." Nope. Bike was fine. Fine. 100% fine. "Well. I guess I'll climb back on this bike and see what happens."

Mike tooled on down the road and was making decent progress, but he was worried about making the cutoff. The hills were really taking their toll and the unexpected stop had eaten into his time. He was getting a little discouraged when a pair of tri angels happened upon him. "You look like you're struggling there, friend." Mike admitted that he was and he was worried about making it in. "You stick with us. We've been training on these hills and we'll pull you through. Stick with us. We'll get you there." These tri angels never left him and got him through the last of those 112 miles, well under the cutoff.

Mike began the "walk," as Amy called it. He did the math and knew he needed to maintain a 15-minute mile to beat the 17 hour cutoff. As he caught and passed people who were struggling, he would repeat the same phrase the tri angels had said to him. "You look like you're struggling there, friend." Competitor after competitor confided in him that they were done. They were tired. They had stopped too many times. They weren't going to make it. Mike repeated the same mantra, over and over. "You stick with me. I've been training at this pace and I'll pull you through. Stick with me. I'll get you there."

Mile after mile, Mike encountered more people just like him. People who had encountered the unexpected and were giving up on their dreams. Mile after mile, he kept on encouraging. Kept on pulling. Kept on moving forward. As the clock neared midnight, Mike and his new friends approached the finisher chute. Thirty new friends. They began to peel off, one at a time, and give it their all to finish their race. Mike had pulled THIRTY people through the deep, dark night of Ironman and brought them home. Because two tri angels had given him support and encouragement when he needed it most, Mike was able to do the same for thirty people who were moments from giving up on their dreams.

Isn't that incredible? Isn't that what this whole sport is all about? Individual achievement through community? Stories like this resonate with me. Stories like this stick with me. And when I'm in the deep, dark hours of my Ironman, I hope I remember this story and plug forward, making new friends and achieving my dreams. Maybe even thirty new friends.


***Amy does have six children (whom she homeschools) and her husband travels. Not exactly apples to apples, here.***