In what has become an annual event for me, I volunteered for the Arizona Ironman this past weekend. Mostly I am just trying to live my dreams as an aging thirty-something by watching men ten years my junior do physically what I can only dream about.
For the uninitiated let me fill you in on what, exactly an Ironman is. Triathlon might just be an understatement. Think mother of all triathlons and you are getting close. For to finish a race of this magnitude requires gallons:
gallons of blood.
gallons of sweat.
and gallons of gatorade.
Ironman is swimming (1.2 miles). It is cycling (112 miles). And it is running (26.2 miles).
Are you starting to get the picture? So you can see then, why the theme this year was "Man Down!".
A little back story is probably in order. I have been trying for the past three years, years that I found myself handing out Coca Cola and Chicken Soup to runners, and waving bikers on in three directions at "The Hot Corner" to sell everyone I know on volunteering for the Ironman. And after three years I have found only one convert: My sister.
On our way to Bike Station 2 my sister nervously voiced a major concern with me: "What do I do if a man goes down Will? I don't think I am prepared to deal with that."
After giving it much thought I responded: "We are volunteers. We don't have to perform CPR or anything. There are EMT's on the course who will deal with accidents and incidents." How was I to know that we would be screaming "Man DOWN!" so soon?
The first of three Man Down incidents came early, when Robert, another volunteer jumped from the back of the volunteer coordinator's pickup truck as we were loading up to be placed at our stations. I watched in slow motion as his ankle rolled and he fell to the ground. My eyes met my sister's and we both nodded in agreement...
"Man Down!!!"
The second came not ten minutes later as we were cruising to our stations in a very surreal moment. The bikes were ahead of schedule, and we were following the lead cyclist. Oh yeah, so were several choppers, police escorts, motorcycle support teams, and photographers.
We came to a stop and a motorcycle with two people on it (driver and photographer) came ripping around us before pulling over to the side of the road. There was commotion. There was smoke. And before we knew it, the motorcycle was on it's side, pinning the driver underneath.
"Man Down!!!"
Later in the day a cyclist approached my sister and I, overheated from hours in the sun, to announce that an "overweight" man had fallen off of his bike about a quarter mile back and was now vomiting in a extraordinary and shocking fashion. He might be needing assistance...
"Man Down!!!"
Yes, according to the Arizona Republic...
"The heat was a reason that about 15 percent of more than 2,000 entries did not make it past the bike ride. If their front wheels had not crossed an orange tape by 5:30 p.m., they were done. From the looks of gear waiting in bags on the ground in a so-called transition zone, there were a lot of them, presumably somewhere in the exhaustion zone."
Man down indeed.
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