Ironman Louisville volunteering

It's been a couple of weeks since I last posted on this blog--a week or so before Ironman.

I enjoyed being a volunteer for the Ironman event. I was there for two sessions--both involved using my kayak. They held a practice swim session for those who wanted/needed some open water time the morning before the big event. I used my trailer to get there, and doing so gained me some small notoriety and a few positive comments. I encountered a few friends there, and made myself known in the paddling community.

Jenn did a lot of volunteer work with Ironman as well--more than I did, to be honest. She helped event security manage the areas where racers moved through transitions and prior to the swim.

More about my Ironman adventures after the break.



As noted in a prior post here, I used the Globe to pull the trailer to take advantage of its dyno headlight, as the Big Dummy lacks a dedicated headlight at this time. I found a decent place to lock the bike and trailer for Saturday morning--there are some convenient railings under the Joe's Crab Shack restaurant. This also made for easier portage of my boat from trailer to water--I could ride almost to the water's edge, drop off my boat, ride up to where I locked the bike and trailer, and walk down to the water for launch. I was going to reverse the procedure after the practice swim was over, but another boater offered to help me walk my boat to my bike. Once reloaded, I rode the rig back to the parking lot where several boaters were mingling and sorting who would do what the next day.

I was on the water for about two hours, and only had one or two folks who wanted to hang on my boat for a rest. The swim route for the practice session was from the exit stairs for the event to the Kennedy Bridge and return. It's more about giving folks a chance to swim in open water for a bit, since so many of the athletes do their training in lap pools. Folks who have done the Ironman before often use the practice swim to mellow a bit. Because the swim area is compressed compared to race day, it can get a bit hectic getting to a swimmer having trouble--other swimmers are approaching from both directions.

I touched base with Jenn, who had ridden over to the Great Lawn to help get folks' bikes in place and other chores after her normal Saturday morning routine, then rode home to unload the boat. I stopped at Frankfort Avenue Beer Depot for some barbeque lunch--I was hungry!

Once home, I logged my miles for the trip, checked a few online things, and got back on the bike to ride downtown. Something told me that Jenn would appreciate a riding partner on her homeward trip, and I was right. We were both fairly tired, and hit the bed early, mindful of the very early morning each of us had in store on race day.

Jenn's volunteering had her at the swim start hours before the race began, helping keep folks where they needed to be. She had enough trouble getting going that she drove to save some time, knowing that it would be a challenge to drive back out of the area. I left soon after she did, and got to the Rowing Center with plenty of time. I was allowed to keep my bike and trailer in the Rowing Center building, and I didn't have to do any extra locking.

We were given our assignments and a briefing on what to do if trouble struck, and launched our boats. One of my favorite things about being in a kayak for the Ironman swim is the first fifteen to thirty minutes after the launch. The river is quiet, save for the sound of folks paddling boats into position--quiet enough to hear more of the morning birds. Yes, we hear the low roar of the traffic on the Kennedy Bridge, and it would be annoying if I let it be, but I am usually able to tune it out for a few minutes and enjoy a bit of bird-watching.

My favorite place for the race is just downstream of the turn. It's a busy triangle: the race course goes upriver for half a mile or so, then around a turn buoy, then downriver. Many of the athletes have a tough time with direction-finding and knowing which buoy is the next waypoint. Part of what boaters are there to do is keep them on-course. In that triangle just downstream of the turn buoy, we are watching swimmers going upriver and downriver, to help them not collide with each other in some cases.

Some folks aim for the wrong buoy after their turn, and swim as if to go back down the channel behind Towhead Island. Some just get confused with all the surrounding noise of a thousand other swimmers. Our task as boaters is to politely help them stay on course.

Of course, one of our other reasons for being there is the occasional swimmer who needs to stop swimming for a moment. We offer our boats as floating rest stops (we are not allowed to help a swimmer make forward progress, of course). During one very busy period, I had a swimmer come to me complaining of leg cramps. I offered the bow of my boat for him to rest. He asked that I go beside him for a while in case the cramps caused him more trouble. I could only go so far with him, as I felt obligated to a BUNCH of other racers who were getting off-course as he was hanging on my boat. I told him I would do what I could, but that once he was out of range for me, he would have to seek help from other boaters stationed farther along his course.

I felt bad for the guy. The next boat was a hundred or two hundred yards along--and that looks like a LONG way when your head is all you have above water. I also had committed to helping keep all the other racers on course and where we could find them, and had to find a balance point that met my ethical standards.

After most of the swimmers had gone by, I was asked to move well downriver to help with other sections of the course. I paddled downstream at what a pace faster than I could maintain for long, and had to stop and rest a bit myself. After a drink of water and a Clif bar, I hustled on to my next assignment. I got to see some of the same swimmers I had guided earlier--a bit more ragged by then, but still carrying on.

It's common for boaters to pair with a slower swimmer at some point, encouraging them to finish the course. For some of these swimmers, finishing that segment of the event within the allotted time can be a concern. We as boaters can hear the announcer telling folks how much time remains, and can relay that information to the swimmers. Out of the twenty-five or twenty-seven hundred folks who entered the water for the swim, only three or four missed that time cutoff. Those folks get picked up by boats if they are not within a few minutes of the transition point. The few who were unable to make the time limit were far enough away that I didn't have to feel as much of their disappointment. There were no close misses this year.

Some boaters leave the course before the event is done. That's okay, as it makes the takeout a bit less crowded than it might otherwise be. I was one of the several who were at the swim finish cheering on the last few to make it to that transition, so I paddled back upriver with that group. We hauled our boats to the parking lot, then many of the boaters loaded and left. I was one of a few who stayed on to help sort pack and load buoys, ropes, weights, and other gear owned by the race organizers for the trip to the next race. By the time all the stuff was in the truck, I was pretty tired, so I rode home.

Being on a bicycle was a good thing at that point, because it allowed me to use park trails to get out of the Ironman traffic corridor. I rode along Waterfront Park to Eva Bandman Park (site of the Cyclocross course to be used for the World Championships early next year), where I joined the Butchertown Greenway to get to Story Avenue, then to Frankfort Avenue to route home.

In the course of the swim event, I sometimes tell athletes that they are doing much better than I would be. I swim to stay off the bottom. I don't care to swim for distance or even for a workout. It just isn't something I enjoy in that manner. Congrats to all who can do this sort of thing, then ride 112 miles, then run a marathon. I would not enjoy the challenge at all.