The Wristband

I came across the following post in the Slowtwitch Forums today. It put a smile on my face and made me feel the need to share.

Anyway, I’m not sure what kind of credit you need to give when you copy something off a public ‘forum’ but the following was posted by “no good” on Sep 15, 2010 at 19:44.

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Ironman Canada wristband and my naive reverie

I'm still sporting my IMC wristband 2 1/2 weeks after the race.

2010 was my 12th banding at IMC, but I'm finding it hard to part with this year's fluorescent green reminder. Maybe I'm trying to prolong my IMC experience, hoping to stave off the post traumatic IM doldrums. Maybe I'm just too lazy to find a scissors. Maybe I like neon green.

But neon green is not subtle. So, the cynic might say it's my subliminal eddy sucking the unsuspicious into an Ironman "all about me" conversation ad nauseum. Maybe.

My yearly pilgrimage to Penticton is the celebration of a lifestyle that allows me to participate in something bigger than myself. I get to don the costume of an Ironman, and sate in the accolades of ten thousand cheers. My joy graciously on loan vicariously to those nameless faces. So akin to the last mile of IMC, vicarious is a two way street. And I reap much more than I sow.

The patience of the volunteer at registration, working a double shift. The innocence of the little kid asking for my glowstick, then shyly asking for my autograph. The respect from the old folks sitting for hours, with bodies betrayed by time. Their barely audible cheers are deafening to me, and it is I who now betrays them, as I shuffle by, my pained acknowledgment and labored thank you belying my true gratitude. The Spartan volunteers at Yellow Lake, aka Ice Station Zebra. The awe, wonder, apprehension and fear on faces of Ironvirgins. The excitement of the finish line, building up to Midnight.

And the humbling experience afterward, while walking to my car along Winnipeg, as the crowd emptied onto the course. Up ahead I hear the din of excitement, I see the horde part, and a lone runner emerges from the darkness. People gasp in amazement, stopping to applaud and cheer what they are seeing. She is determined to cross the finish line, still over a mile away. I'm honored to celebrate her triumph, and overwhelmed with pride to witness her determination, as she passes me by. You go girl. Congratulations. You are an Ironman.

So I've got this plastic wristband that I haven't taken off yet. I think I'll keep it on just a bit longer.

http://noel-ironman.blogspot.com/
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I must admit, that while I did take my wristband off when I got home from Penticton, I secretly didn’t want to. Not to mention the fact, that for me, 2.5 weeks out, I find myself periodically logging onto Facebook just to look at the picture of Kirsten and I crossing the finish line. It takes me to a happy place.