Who Wants to Be an Ironman?

Two summers ago, I found myself in Lake Placid, New York, at the 2005 Ironman USA competition. I was not a participant, but part of a group of family and friends supporting my pal Andrea Ziegler in her first attempt to become an Ironman. To achieve that title, Andrea would have to survive a 2.4-mile (3.8-kilometer) open-water swim, immediately followed by a 112-mile (180-kilometer) bike ride, and finally a 26.2-mile (42.2-kilometer) run (i.e., a marathon).

Competitors start at 7am and have until midnight to finish the course – 17 hours of grueling and continuous physical exertion from start to finish. Elite professional athletes can complete the Ironman in approximately nine hours. The 2005 Lake Placid women's professional event was won by a five-time champion, Canadian Heather Fuhr, in a time of 9:45:06.

In preparation for the event, Andrea, who was already an accomplished athlete with several marathons and triathlons under her belt, squeezed eight months of training into an already busy schedule. She braved the Canadian winter for 5am swims, did endless weekend bike rides, and managed more runs through the week than most people make walks to the office coffee machine.

For a first-time spectator, the ordinariness of the Ironman competitor is striking. The athletes include parents, grandparents, and people from all walks of life. Expecting a horde of Titans, I instead saw a surprising range of ages and body types that did not fit my notion of an athletic build. Some Ironman competitors are massive, while others are tiny. Some have large bellies while others sport enviously chiseled abs. Athletes with gray hair and balding pates mingled with younger folk. In 2005, the oldest competitor was 73, but the previous year's oldest competitor had been 82. The field was predominantly white and male. However, those women who were present swam, biked, and ran the spandex off of many of their male counterparts.

Early in the morning, almost 2,000 athletes waded into the mist-wreathed waters of Lake Placid to kick off the event. At the sound of the gun, the wetsuited and goggled swimmers thrust out, arms rising and plunging through the water. From a distance, the field resembled a sloppy convoy of salmon swimming upstream. But the time set by the swimmers was staggeringly fast. Andrea finished towards the top of the pack, with a time of one hour and nine minutes.

The swim concluded, the athletes raced through the transition area where their wetsuits were peeled off by volunteers, then they dashed for the bike stage, where they literally shifted gears. Andrea took six hours and 40 minutes to finish the ride, which looped through the village, out onto country roads and back for 112 miles (180 kilometers). Early in the bike stage, competitors smiled and waved to spectators; by the end, they were still smiling, but the waves were replaced with energy-saving nods. The joke goes that there is a reason why the swim is first: To prevent drowning!

Finally came the marathon. Halfway through the run, the agony began to show. The athletes were red-faced and sunburned. Sweat poured off them, and their spandex outfits were ringed with white salt stains. Most significant at this stage of fatigue is the mental transition that takes place, where the mind seems to takes over from the body and carries it along.

Some people think the Ironman competition is madness and that our bodies are not made for such an ordeal. Yet many marathon coaches believe that with the right amount of training, most healthy human beings can achieve what is considered an endurance feat. And if we think that the Ironman is insanity, there are people who have completed distances of two, four, and even 15 times that of the Ironman.

Meanwhile, the Ironman spectators do their own part. They carefully choose the best spots from which to view their own contender, and applaud all athletes who pass by. Once the cheering is done and the athlete is out of sight, the spectator has a lot of free time. This time, more often than not, is used to consume food. Yup, we had iron guts.

At the end of the day, after many snacks, we entered the arena to await the emotional finish of the Ironman. We saw children join hands with their parents, running proudly alongside for the final lap. Some competitors wept their way to the finish. Others retained enough energy to wave their arms, urging louder cheers from the spectators. One attractive gentleman dropped to his knees to propose marriage. His shocked lover accepted the proposal, an occasion somewhat complicated by her Ironman collapsing once past the finish line and requiring a visit to the medical tent.

An hour past her estimated arrival time, our own Ironman contender finally entered the arena. Dazed, clearly in agony, and barely recognizing her cheering squad, Andrea ran to the finish. She was immediately given a medal and officially declared an Ironman. Her finish time was 13 hours and 21 minutes, well ahead of the field average. Her state? One that required medical attention. Yet a mere two hours later, she had joined the rest of us to celebrate with a pasta dinner.

After the race, on the drive back to our rented cottage, we saw lines of Ironman competitors walking the course in the dark, still in dogged pursuit of their goal.

"They look like refugees," someone commented from the comfort of our car. But perhaps "refuge" for an Ironman contender is in the journey itself.

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