Ironman Wisconsin

Last weekend the fine city of Madison, WI was besieged by thousands of people with way too much time on their hands and even more fire in their bellies. No, the city didn't host the World Series of Poker or the Antique Road Show. These people were playing against the odds and knew what it was that lay before them. These people were athletes. Their race? The Ironman Wisconsin. A struggle of stamina along a trio of epic distances lasting from sun-up to well past sun-down.

I watched two of my sisters compete amongst the 3000 other crazies and, just as with other Iron-siblings before them, they became my new endurance heroes. With their successful completion of the 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run they join the burgeoning pantheon of Ironmen* in my family which now includes two in-laws, a brother, and two sisters.

As with the solitary marathon years earlier we mere family-fans feel the push of our genetic peers to compete in this all-consuming race. The interesting thing about watching an Ironman, however, is that it wears down the observer too. The Ironman triathlon is the only race I've watched in which the initial inspiration felt while spectating ebbs considerably before the race itself actually concludes.

While watching all those swimmers, neoprened from ankle to wrist, emerging from Lake Monona I was imagining myself doing laps at the local aquatic center two blocks from my house (in which I've never set foot), and even signing up for private swim lessons!

During the bike stage I wondered how it would feel to bike over a century on my sturdy, hand-me-down, loose chained mountain bike. Then, while watching the teardrop-helmeted elites lap up amateurs on their spokeless carbon composites (which would pass us sightseers sounding like something out of War of the Worlds) I wondered how much it would cost not to feel that way.

But by the end of the marathon I found myself simply wishing my hero sisters would run faster and just finish already because my feet were sore. And if my dogs were barking from all the walking, standing and waiting, just try and imagine what theirs felt like.

*I was ambivalent about the use of 'Ironwomen' versus 'Ironman' but one of my Ironsisters suitably persuaded me that 'Ironman' need not be gender specific. So stick that in your p.c. pipe and spin.