IMWI Weekend Adventure - Sunday 3

I did my best to relate the important points, although some details have been omitted for various reason. This was truly a learning experience for me - the first time I've been in a situation where I felt responsible for someone and was trying to move as fast as possible to take care of them while whole world felt like slow motion. It may sound silly now, but at the time I was truly, seriously worried about her health and safety.

As Iron Wil fell and I ran towards her I heard someone yell "Tracy!", then in a distant sort of way realized I was the one who yelled. It found it interesting that I, who routinely refers to her as Wil, reverted to her real name in a stressful situation.

I noticed other volunteers approaching her to help too, but they stood back as soon as they saw thatI knew her.

I knelt on the floor beside her and we talked for a few seconds - she was really having a tough time speaking and I was worried about her condition. Her head was in the race and I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not - the big question on my mind was "did she understand she was hypothermic?" It was hard for her to talk but she asked about her swim time and how close she was to the bike cutoff and we talked about that for few seconds. I helped her up and hoped I could remember where the athlete warming room was because I was sure that's where she needed to be. She was clearly in rough shape and I was determined not to put any pressure on her to continue the race, so chose my words carefully. I put my hands on her shoulders, looked at her and asked "Tell me what you want to do."

"Run." The effort it took her to say the word brought tears to my eyes. But Iron Wil wanted to run, so I was instantly determined to make it happen.

I remember trying to say something encouraging as I gently took her frozen, shaking hands away from her chin so I could undo the buckle. As I removed her helmet I called for someone to bring me her bag, yelling her number at them as they ran for it. She put her left arm around me and we were already moving towards the door when they brought it to us. I remember telling them, probably too harshly, "put it in my hand" because I didn't want her to have to deal with it. I remember reaching for the bag and being surprised to find her helmet already in that hand.

Going through the door was surreal. It was like walking into a wall of sound and for a moment I couldn't remember who these people were or why they were so happy. The path to the changing rooms was lined with cheering spectators and she was a hero, possibly the last cyclist of the day to make it through. In the moments between the two transition rooms I felt this overwhelming protectiveness - which even as I felt it I knew was ridiculous. Who was I to think for one second that Iron Wil needed me to protect her from anything?! But it's what I felt, and I wanted to get her away from all these people so she could be alone and deal with her condition and really decide if she could run.

I helped her into a chair in the changing room and as I took off her cycling shoes asked if she had dry clothes somewhere. She said she had a black jacket in her morning clothes bag. There was another volunteer standing near us, so she watched over her while I ran to get the jacket.

I was going on blind faith at this point - I'd heard that the gear bags were all being gathered together for the athletes to pick up in the room "just past the changing rooms" but I had not actually confirmed the information. Right then I'd never hoped so much for a vague snip of something I'd overhead to be true. It was.

The curtain blocking the doorway was only a few steps away, and thanks to the random luck of numerical order her bag happened to be only a few steps from the door. I grabbed both the morning clothes and the T1 bag and ran back to her, having been gone maybe 20 seconds.

I dug frantically through the bags but there was no jacket, only some cotton pants and a shirt. While I asked her for more information, tried to find out if she'd already maybe given the jacket to her husband at some point, I pulled open her T2 bag to get her transitioned.

And then I thought "Oh god, I've got the wrong bag."

I was holding a pair of white shoes with blue stripes and I was convinced they couldn't be hers because this image from the IMWI gear section on her sidebar was apparently burned into my subconscious, serving no other purpose than to paralyze me at this moment.



I debated the wisdom of asking her about it, but decided I was being ridiculous and continued getting her ready. The entire internal debate took maybe 4 seconds. I also had an odd moment when I stressed about repacking her bags nicely because Iron Wil is OCD like me and I was convinced she'd be upset if I didn't do it right.

I was happy to find socks in her gear bag and soon enough she was changed into dry footwear. I had her put on the hat too, hoping it would protect her face from the rain. Then I turned my attention to the dry clothes.

She asked about the jacket again and I hated telling her I just didn't have it. I pulled out the t-shirt and pants but she said she didn't want to wear them because they would soak through. I felt like an idiot for suggesting something that would make her even colder.

She was still shaking but was clearly preparing to leave. I asked her if she'd planned to run with a fuel belt or if she'd planned food for T2, hoping to get her to stay a little longer, get warmer, take in some calories she probably needed anyway. But she was having none of it.

I knew there was another step I should be taking to keep her warm, but it was on the edge of my mind and stubbornly eluded my attempts to pin it down. As I helped her in the direction of the exit, still shivering and still not walking with much confidence, I was trying so hard to stall her so I could come up with it. Another volunteer (I wish I'd gotten her name, she was great) was watching her with concern and when I said "she wants to run" the look on her face was indescribable, perhaps best summed up as 'disbelief + concern + how can I help.'

Then Wil was pointing at the corner and stammering and the thing that I'd been trying so hard to remember finally hit me: Plastic Bag!!! She was pointing at the plastic bag. Then the answer I'd had all along came flooding back. I grabbed the bag, tossed it at the volunteer and asked her to make a hole in it for me - I had a mission. NOW she could wear the warmer clothes!

I ran back to her gear bags, grabbed the clothes, and in short order she was dressed. I felt the first hint of 'maybe she'll be ok' because her shivering visibly improved when she got the dry shirt on.

The hole the volunteer made in the bag was too small, and in my haste to enlarge it I made it too big. In desperation I did the only thing I could think of - pulled the rubber band out of my hair and tied the opening shut to keep her shoulders dry.

She was moving a little bit better now but was still shivering an awful lot. It occurred to me at this point that her husband probably didn't know where she was, and I asked her if she wanted me to call him. She said yes.

She sipped some warm water, and then as a final stall tactic I asked if she needed to use the bathroom before she hit the run course. She did, but was not amused when I told her they were outside.

"That's just wrong." I don't know why, but I found this hysterically funny, the effect made even funnier by her chattering teeth. She was absolutely right, it was truly absurd that they had to walk past the indoor bathroom to use the porta-potties. She said it again when I asked the volunteer outside the changing room for directions to them and she pointed out the door. "That's ten different kinds of wrong." I couldn't help laughing at the ridiculous situation.

Before we made it out the door she screamed and jumped into the air, beating her fists on her thighs. I had no idea what to say and don't remember if I said anything. Then she kind of yelled, in response to the question on my face, "I'm so sick of the shivers!!"

That made me laugh too. And that was when I decided it was probably ok to let her go run, that her fighting spirit was going to win the day.

While she made a pit stop I borrowed a pen from a spectator, and wrote the cell number she gave me on my arm. I promised to let Mr. Wil know she was ok and then she was off, and I was just another fan screaming "Go Iron Wil! You Rock!!" as she ran.


I called the number but got a recording saying it was out of service. Luckily I am insane and will carry paper around in my bag for days until I can find a recycling bin, so I had Simply Stu's number in my bag with the directions to Friday's dinner. I gave him a call, knowing that Mr. Wil had planned to be with Stu. He said they had just seen her and she looked great. She was running and smiling.

I took a deep breath and leaned against the wall for a minute. Then I remembered that I was still on duty and headed back to the gear bags.