It was unseasonably cool in the few days Marian and I were there before the race. It rained a bit whereas last year there were raging forest fires. We did the usual stuff: buy things we didn't need at the merchandise tent, swim in the lake ( about 70 and reasonably clear), hang out, go to the carbo party. We registered and took our stuff to the transition area. In Ironman races, the participants usually drop off their bikes and gear the day before the race. All the usual stuff but this was not a usual race, at least not for us.

The real story is Marian. At age 63, she was back for another try to join the ironclub of finishers who complete the course within the allotted 17 hours. This was to be her fourth attempt spread over almost two years. You see, in 1998, Marian was told she would never run again due to back pain from severe arthritis. She had been an 8 minute miler. So she took up triathlon. What the hell; nothing to lose. In 2001, she fractured two cervical vertebrae in a horse accident and lost parts of some fingers in another horse accident. So in 2002 she qualified for Kona at the Half Vineman. But flat tires prevented her from making the bike cut off so she DNF'ed. The second attempt was Ironman New Zealand in March, 2003. We trained through the winter. She didn't make the bike cut off again, this time due to a race official who misdirected her. Again, DNF. We went back to New Zealand for another try in March of this year. Marian was the oldest woman in the race. I was thrilled to see her on the run course. She made it through T2!

If you haven't been to an Ironman finish, you're really missing an event. The crowd grows as the clock approaches midnight, the inevitable end of the race. The loud music gets louder. The sponsors have people run out the runway in front of the finish archway throwing swag into the increasingly boisterous crowd. The bright lights scatter the darkness of the night. The announcers whip the crowd mercelesly and they respond with ever louder replies. The finish at IMNZ in 2004 had over 5,000 spectators within 100 yards of the finish.

As the clock approached midnight, the announcers informed the crowd every minute or so that racers were very near. The anticipation of the crowd rose with each announcement. The finish is in a park and the participants run from the dark into the bright lights. We all waited just behind the finishing arch to see if Marian would make it. A volunteer somehow understood that I was waiting for my wife and handed me a finisher's medal, asking me if I would like to give it to her. Would I! What an opportunity! The clock kept ticking to 11:59:00 and no Marian. Finally, Marian appeared on the runway only 75 yards from the finish at about 16:59:45. The crowd cheered, screamed, some cried but time ran out as she was on the runway only a few yards from the finish line. The race director, standing next to me, said: "No medal" I looked uncomprehendingly, "no medal?" I asked. He repeated it and I handed it back to a volunteer. Two minutes later, Karin Bivens appeared on the runway and finished. About 15 minutes later, Ken Glah and Jan Wanklyn, both pros, appeared in the adjoining tent and presented Marian and Karin with their medals. Ken had finished ninth overall. Still, it was a DNF. No official medal. Making the TV news was hardly a consolation.

So we went to Canada to try it again. Time was passing. How many more realistic chances would there be for her? Someday, those doctors may be right but their prophesy had not yet occurred. None of us wanted a repeat of New Zealand. Kyle Welch, Conrad Young, Roger Bivens and I had all been behind that arch. Marian said this would be it, either she would be an ironman in IM Canada or that was it for ironman racing. This was the showdown with the water, the bike, the run.

Marian and I have a coach, Marc Evans. He suggested to me that if we could raise the money to cover most of his expenses, he would come to the race to help her win (finish before midnight). This was to be a secret; Marian was not to know. So I asked our friends for some help and they came through. Marc told Marian that he would be there for her "as never before", that he would be "right in front of her" but that he had to go to St. Louis so she interpreted these statements as motivational only, that he would be there in spirit.

At 4 am on race morning, there was a knock on our motel room door. It was Marc. He had a hotel room about an hour away and had driven down. Marian was estatic to see him. She understood what his presence meant when he told her that he would physically be with her throughout the race (after the swim of course). I then gave her the card that all those who contributed to bring Marc to Penticton had signed. Each had written a personal message. She was ready!

All the Ironman races I have attended as either a participant or as an observer have a mass swim start. A cannon booms out and everyone swims off in a baitball of struggling humanity, banging and crashing into one another as each finds his or her pace. Marian's was slow, 2 hours and six minutes. You have only 2:20 to finish the swim. But she got out of the water, quickly moved through T1 and jumped on her bike. Marc was there, encouraging, pushing, at the beginning and all along the course. He never gave her any physical aid; that would break the rules. But he was coaching and her one man cheering section. She tore up Richter Pass, the biggest climb, passing a number of others, and swept down the other side. She slammed the bike course in 7:56 and got to T2 at 5:10 pm, 20 minutes before the cutoff.

Another quick transition and Marian was on the run course. I only saw her once, at mile 9 at about 7:30 pm. I knew this again would be close. A few minutes later Marc jumped out of a car in which he had hitched a ride. They wouldn't let him drive his car on the run course but the locals were permitted. I told him she was just ahead of him. He told me to start running. By that time I had blisters on the bottom of my feet covering the entire ball on each side. It was no use. Still, I had a chance at a PR and only missed it by two minutes, finishing in 14:37.

Kyle Welch, Meiling Yee and Dave Graff had all finished and had a little area with chairs near the massage tent. Conrad Young was still on the course as I had seen him not much in front of Marian. We waited for the inevitable midnight, hoping that Marian would be on the right side of midnight this time. Kyle and I went to the finish line at 11:30. We knew this would be decided after 11:45. I asked one of the volunteers if I could present Marian with the medal and was given one. We waited.

The run to the finish line in Penticton requires the racers to turn away from it and run about one half mile along the lake front and then reverse direction and run to the finish. The announcers could see racers heading down the lake front away from the finish. As midnight approached, the drone of "There's only fifteen more minutes!" and then "fourteen" and so on came from the loud speakers. No Marian. From my station behind the finish line, I craned to see every time another finisher was announced as approaching, often with spouses or kids in tow. "Ten minutes" I heard. Not again! And then, emerging from the crowd at the far end of the finishing shute was Marian, and Conrad, and Marc! Her smile lit up the place! Her name was announced as an Ironman! She crossed the finish line in 16:52:22. Conrad was right after her and then Marc. I placed that medal around her neck and have seldom been so happy.

Thanks to all our friends who were there, and especially to Karin and Roger Bivens, Kathy Torgerson, Kyle Welch and Conrad Young, all of whom helped to make this happen. And thanks to Marc Evans, who probably ran a marathon himself on race day. His help was worth exactly eight minutes and one second. It was critical. But in the end Marian finished the race within the allowed time, got the t-shirt, got the medal, and even made the podium at the awards ceremony as she was fourth in her age group.