Post by Eric on Sept 9, 2008 11:04:13 GMT
Sherborne 2008: A Spectators View.
We rose to a dark morning and the threat of rain. Doug and Gerry were already in the kitchen eating porridge. It was 3.30 am. An ungodly hour to be up. In hushed and muted voices we loaded up the car. Speaking too loud felt like a sin at this hour of the morning. Dough and Gerry were very calm as we made our way to the venue through the pre-dawn darkness. We could see many other cars and people also heading towards the castle. I could picture all the lights converging on Sherborne Castle. When we arrived it was no lighter and we took all the gear and headed in. The tension was like a living thing surrounding us as we walked with lots of other people inwards. In the distance the castle loomed like a black gaping maw. We said our goodbyes to our heroes near transition and wished them all luck. We headed up to the village area where we met all of our co-supporters and sat down to talk. A strange kind of talk as we were all nervous and tired and hoping the weather would hold, and their bikes would hold, and their bodies would hold.
The race was due to start at 6.00 am but this was largely expected to be unrealistic. Around 5am we made our way to a hill overlooking the lake. Brigid McCabe, an Ironman from last year, told us this would be an excellent spot to view the swim section. When we arrived there it was impossible to tell as it was still so dark. We stood wrapping our arms around ourselves to keep warm, while thinking of our athletes and how it would be for them in their wetsuits in the water. On the lake we could see lots of canoes and kayaks. The people in them were wearing miner’s lights on their heads and they painted a surreal picture as they moved around the lake like overlarge fireflies. We could just make out how large the lake was from the bobbing lights of the canoeists in the distance.
Noises echoed around the lake from the direction of the starting point to our left. Athletes were entering the water and we could make out the line of canoes in the front of the first athletes. This was like a signal to the spectators as the hushed tones around us gradually grew quieter. The tension was now building and people were nervously moving from one foot to the other and pacing around. As dawn slowly lighted the skies, frowns and pale faces became visible. All eyes were looking towards the athletes who were steadily streaming into the lake. From where we were standing it looked never ending. The 6am mark came and went and still they were entering the lake. The sky was brightening from the east. The weather was holding. The first line of swimmers was steadily moving towards the start point as the mouth of the lake filled with eager athletes ready to swim down its throat. Distant chanting could be heard from the swimmers. Brigid explained that they were keeping the athletes busy as they were waiting to start. Like a parade ground sergeant we could hear one voice above all others. It seamed to be barking orders. ‘Oggy Oggy …’ and they responded ‘Oi, Oi, Oi.’ It was approaching 6.30am. ‘Soon, now’ Brigid said.
Around us the quietness deepened like an indrawn breath, an eerie silence, and as if on signal to our expectations the fog horn went off and the race started. Birds erupted from the trees lining the lake and squaked their protest. Immediately 1600 swimmers set off on their epic journey. Within minutes the leading line approached our vantage point. Our ears filled with the noise of the rhythmic splash of arms rising and falling, rising and falling, the repeated slapping of the water. The lake surface bubbled with froth as the swimmers turned the once placid surface into a tremendous cauldron of seething water. The flash of skin as faces were turned to take a breath. And our guys were in there somewhere kicking their way to the finish. The line streamed past us at a ferocious pace. Like a snake making its way across the water the swimmers swam past us.
The brightening sky had revealed the size of the lake. It was simply huge. We couldn’t see the turning point of the swim to our right as the lake curved away from us in the distance. Swimmers were still passing in front us even as we lost sight of the lead swimmers. The splash of their swimming was a constant noise in the background. It never stopped. And still more swimmers were passing. We craned our necks to see how many more were to come. Hundreds. The birds had resettled themselves to this unseemly interruption and were flying overhead. Vainly we were imagining that we could nearly see our guys. The lead swimmers were on their way back. Like an arrow head they were coming in for their second lap. Five swimmers in a row heading for the buoy. They looked like a team so straight did they swim. A large gap and another body of swimmers were filling the lake. And still some athletes were making their way forward for their first lap. Watches were peered at anxiously. Where would our guys be now? Time passed quickly and the leaders came back around. They lapped the main body of swimmers and exited the water somewhere around 45minutes.
Brigid was excellent with times and on her signal we made our way to transition to see our guys coming out of the water. And here is the amazing feeling of being a spectator. We knew our lads were in the water. We knew they were strong swimmers and we knew they would be coming out. But we fretted, and paced and our bodies tensed. As we saw each in their turn running towards transition we went absolutely crazy. Our pent up nervousness came out in a rush. It was like a roller-coaster ride. Moments of calm followed by moments of sheer exhilaration as we saw our athletes taking on the challenge of a lifetime. It was our duty to try spurring them on for the precious few moments that we saw them. And we did try, we tried our very best. ‘Come on Gerry, come on!’ Once we had spent ourselves through screaming our nervous energy built up again as we awaited our next athlete. And once again we went absolutely crazy. ‘Go Doug, go on, you’re doing great!’ We shouted and cheered like mad as they passed us. ‘Come on Nicky, come on!’ ‘Go Mary, you’re doing great, you’re doing great.’ As I type this I can feel the hairs rising on the back of my neck and butterflies in my stomach. It was one of the most spectacular scenes I have witnessed and will stay with me for a long time.
From here the rest of our day was spent moving from vantage point to vantage point. Without Brigid we may well have wandered around being fairly useless. We saw all our guys’ lots of times and cheered them on frantically. We became so wrapped up in it that we were cheering on everybody we saw. With raw throats and hoarse voices we gave what we could to each athlete. As for the finish …. I don’t think I can do justice to that. It has to be seen to be believed. Several athletes proposed to their girlfriends in the finishing chute. One guy finished and the announcer asked us to give him a big cheer as he suffered from Parkinson’s Disease. From a spectators point of view it was overwhelming. The emotion was raw and visceral. I can only imagine what it would be like from an athlete’s point of view. In conclusion I offer my deepest congratulations go to Gerry, Nicky and Mary. They were magnificent and their achievements are astounding. As for my brother, well, seeing Doug cross the finish line with Sharon and Nicole and Jamie and Meaghan and Robyn filled me with such a feeling of pride that I could feel myself shaking. For once in my life I think that words fail me. All I can say is: Congratulations Doug, you are an inspiration, you’re achievement is incredible and, of course, you are an Ironman. Well done brother!
Eric
We rose to a dark morning and the threat of rain. Doug and Gerry were already in the kitchen eating porridge. It was 3.30 am. An ungodly hour to be up. In hushed and muted voices we loaded up the car. Speaking too loud felt like a sin at this hour of the morning. Dough and Gerry were very calm as we made our way to the venue through the pre-dawn darkness. We could see many other cars and people also heading towards the castle. I could picture all the lights converging on Sherborne Castle. When we arrived it was no lighter and we took all the gear and headed in. The tension was like a living thing surrounding us as we walked with lots of other people inwards. In the distance the castle loomed like a black gaping maw. We said our goodbyes to our heroes near transition and wished them all luck. We headed up to the village area where we met all of our co-supporters and sat down to talk. A strange kind of talk as we were all nervous and tired and hoping the weather would hold, and their bikes would hold, and their bodies would hold.
The race was due to start at 6.00 am but this was largely expected to be unrealistic. Around 5am we made our way to a hill overlooking the lake. Brigid McCabe, an Ironman from last year, told us this would be an excellent spot to view the swim section. When we arrived there it was impossible to tell as it was still so dark. We stood wrapping our arms around ourselves to keep warm, while thinking of our athletes and how it would be for them in their wetsuits in the water. On the lake we could see lots of canoes and kayaks. The people in them were wearing miner’s lights on their heads and they painted a surreal picture as they moved around the lake like overlarge fireflies. We could just make out how large the lake was from the bobbing lights of the canoeists in the distance.
Noises echoed around the lake from the direction of the starting point to our left. Athletes were entering the water and we could make out the line of canoes in the front of the first athletes. This was like a signal to the spectators as the hushed tones around us gradually grew quieter. The tension was now building and people were nervously moving from one foot to the other and pacing around. As dawn slowly lighted the skies, frowns and pale faces became visible. All eyes were looking towards the athletes who were steadily streaming into the lake. From where we were standing it looked never ending. The 6am mark came and went and still they were entering the lake. The sky was brightening from the east. The weather was holding. The first line of swimmers was steadily moving towards the start point as the mouth of the lake filled with eager athletes ready to swim down its throat. Distant chanting could be heard from the swimmers. Brigid explained that they were keeping the athletes busy as they were waiting to start. Like a parade ground sergeant we could hear one voice above all others. It seamed to be barking orders. ‘Oggy Oggy …’ and they responded ‘Oi, Oi, Oi.’ It was approaching 6.30am. ‘Soon, now’ Brigid said.
Around us the quietness deepened like an indrawn breath, an eerie silence, and as if on signal to our expectations the fog horn went off and the race started. Birds erupted from the trees lining the lake and squaked their protest. Immediately 1600 swimmers set off on their epic journey. Within minutes the leading line approached our vantage point. Our ears filled with the noise of the rhythmic splash of arms rising and falling, rising and falling, the repeated slapping of the water. The lake surface bubbled with froth as the swimmers turned the once placid surface into a tremendous cauldron of seething water. The flash of skin as faces were turned to take a breath. And our guys were in there somewhere kicking their way to the finish. The line streamed past us at a ferocious pace. Like a snake making its way across the water the swimmers swam past us.
The brightening sky had revealed the size of the lake. It was simply huge. We couldn’t see the turning point of the swim to our right as the lake curved away from us in the distance. Swimmers were still passing in front us even as we lost sight of the lead swimmers. The splash of their swimming was a constant noise in the background. It never stopped. And still more swimmers were passing. We craned our necks to see how many more were to come. Hundreds. The birds had resettled themselves to this unseemly interruption and were flying overhead. Vainly we were imagining that we could nearly see our guys. The lead swimmers were on their way back. Like an arrow head they were coming in for their second lap. Five swimmers in a row heading for the buoy. They looked like a team so straight did they swim. A large gap and another body of swimmers were filling the lake. And still some athletes were making their way forward for their first lap. Watches were peered at anxiously. Where would our guys be now? Time passed quickly and the leaders came back around. They lapped the main body of swimmers and exited the water somewhere around 45minutes.
Brigid was excellent with times and on her signal we made our way to transition to see our guys coming out of the water. And here is the amazing feeling of being a spectator. We knew our lads were in the water. We knew they were strong swimmers and we knew they would be coming out. But we fretted, and paced and our bodies tensed. As we saw each in their turn running towards transition we went absolutely crazy. Our pent up nervousness came out in a rush. It was like a roller-coaster ride. Moments of calm followed by moments of sheer exhilaration as we saw our athletes taking on the challenge of a lifetime. It was our duty to try spurring them on for the precious few moments that we saw them. And we did try, we tried our very best. ‘Come on Gerry, come on!’ Once we had spent ourselves through screaming our nervous energy built up again as we awaited our next athlete. And once again we went absolutely crazy. ‘Go Doug, go on, you’re doing great!’ We shouted and cheered like mad as they passed us. ‘Come on Nicky, come on!’ ‘Go Mary, you’re doing great, you’re doing great.’ As I type this I can feel the hairs rising on the back of my neck and butterflies in my stomach. It was one of the most spectacular scenes I have witnessed and will stay with me for a long time.
From here the rest of our day was spent moving from vantage point to vantage point. Without Brigid we may well have wandered around being fairly useless. We saw all our guys’ lots of times and cheered them on frantically. We became so wrapped up in it that we were cheering on everybody we saw. With raw throats and hoarse voices we gave what we could to each athlete. As for the finish …. I don’t think I can do justice to that. It has to be seen to be believed. Several athletes proposed to their girlfriends in the finishing chute. One guy finished and the announcer asked us to give him a big cheer as he suffered from Parkinson’s Disease. From a spectators point of view it was overwhelming. The emotion was raw and visceral. I can only imagine what it would be like from an athlete’s point of view. In conclusion I offer my deepest congratulations go to Gerry, Nicky and Mary. They were magnificent and their achievements are astounding. As for my brother, well, seeing Doug cross the finish line with Sharon and Nicole and Jamie and Meaghan and Robyn filled me with such a feeling of pride that I could feel myself shaking. For once in my life I think that words fail me. All I can say is: Congratulations Doug, you are an inspiration, you’re achievement is incredible and, of course, you are an Ironman. Well done brother!
Eric