An ironstory

Many ironstories evolve from this incredible event and this ironstory is one of them

An Ironman Triathlon tends to attract a diverse group of individuals. People from every walk of life have been "Ironstruck." They travel from all over the world to take up the Ironman challenge.

During your Ironman journey, you will come into contact with people from numerous countries. Many won't even speak your language, but yet you all have the same burning desire---to become an Ironman.

Remember, when you meet some of these people, they will be fighting the same demons as you and will be just as apprehensive and nervous about their first Ironman as you might be. They might also be much further from home.

Taking the time to give them an encouraging word, or just to say they're not alone in the way they feel, might make a difference in how their Ironman experience turns out. In helping them, you may just end up helping yourself as well.

Often just a few positive words during the Ironman-marathon will be all it takes to spur someone on to the finish when every fibre in their body tells them to quit.

Life is strange at times. How we act toward people can have a huge impact on the course of their lives. What seems small at the time, can eventually become enormous.

This ironstory is about just that and I'll simply call it.........

THE SHIRT

The race is done. Its awards night. There's so much excitement in the air. Just a day earlier, many of these people joined the Ironman family.

There's one group that's especially excited. The large contingent of Japanese who travelled to Canada for the race are sitting nearby. They're all smiling and happy. All are wearing their finisher shirts proudly and telling their Ironman stories. All except for one.

He's standing off by himself. Wearing just a plain white shirt. Someone nearby tells me, "he finished almost right at 17 hours, but missed the cut-off by a fraction and wasn't considered an official finisher." And so---no t-shirt.

I don't think I have ever seen anyone quite so devastated. It must have been really, really tough to be so close and then have to watch all his friends celebrate. It just didn't seem right.

I'm not really sure about what happened next. Its just one of those things that's instinctive and there's no expanation for it. Things sometimes just happen.

Regardless, a few minutes later I find myself running down the sidewalk to my motel 4 blocks away. I remember how sore I was. It was like running the last kilometer of the race all over again. I actually wondered to myself..."what the heck am I doing. Its pitch black, I just left the awards and here I am running down the sidewalk!"

I got to my room. I found what I had come for laying on the bed and ran back to the awards.

As I walked back in I thought, "now, I want to do this very quietly without a big show." I folded it as small as I could. Smaller, smaller, smaller, until I couldn't get it any smaller.

I saw him. Still standing alone. I handed this small package to him and went back to my table. So far so good. No muss, no fuss. WELL!

He unfolded it and his face just absoulutely LITE UP. He tore off his old t-shirt and put on my finishers shirt and the transformation was amazing. So much for no fuss.

All his "dozens" of fellow Japanese friends cheered as he puffed out his chest and showed them the Ironman finishers shirt that had just fallen out of the sky. He was in tears.

The news travelled like a tidal wave and people at my table were shaking my hand. So much for keeping it quiet.

When I think back I think what originally started the whole thing that night became clearer. The fact that he had come from so far to take up the Ironman challenge. The fact that he was from a culture where saving face is paramount and he had to go home without his prize. But most of all, because I knew what it must have cost him to spend 17 hours out there.

To me he was 100% Ironman.

FIVE YEARS LATER

I left the awards that night never talking to him, because he spoke no English. I didn't even know his name. The years passed.

I returned for another Ironman five years later. Its the pre-race dinner. A woman came over to talk to me.

She said, "I was there that night. People still talk about that. About you giving him your finishers shirt. Do you know what happened after?"

I said no. To me that night was the end of the story, but I found out that it was only the beginning.

She went on to tell me that the Japanese Ironman had actually "moved" to the area and had become a Canadian citizen. He had married and had kids. He went to college. He was so taken by the whole chain of events I guess, that he had to live here.

So that's what I mean about something meant to be very small can have such a HUGE impact on someones life. Maybe he would have moved here anyway. I don't suppose I'll ever really know.

And no, don't give your first Ironman finisher shirt away. Treasure it!

Just take the time to help someone along in their Ironman quest if the opportunity presents itself. Whats really important is that a lot of you will be on the same journey. Trust me when I say it can be life-changing.

It certainly was for the Japanese Ironman.

Fifteen years have gone by now and I have never seen him again.

I have all my Ironman finisher t-shirts hanging in a row in my closet.

Except for one empty hanger in the middle of all the others.

Its surprising how much that empty hanger has come to mean to me.

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