Pride of Ironman

COEUR d’ALENE — When Ironman came to Coeur d'Alene in 2003, Terrence Northington volunteered to help.

Not that he wanted to. That took some convincing by a friend.

"I was roped into it," Northington said, smiling.

On race day, he found himself handing out water and Gatorade as cyclists whizzed past in Post Falls.

He wasn't even sure what an Ironman was or that it involved 140.6 miles of swimming, biking and running.

"I didn’t know what the heck they were doing," Northington said.

But he did know that by day's end, he had fun. And when they asked him back in 2004, he accepted. He's been returning every year since, serving as the captain of a bike course aid station.

He loves helping athletes reach the finish line, and he loves it that Ironman donates to nonprofits, but there's more to it.

"Ironman being part of our community is really important," Northington said.

He believes Ironman Coeur d'Alene has such a strong volunteer base, some 3,000, because locals take pride in their town and want to represent it well.

"People have that pride and they want to share it," Northington said, while standing in his Best Bikes-N-Boards BMX Shop. "When people come here, I want them to see that, to make them feel welcome."

His wife, Heather, and their five children have all pitched in over the years. Son Brenden Northington has been part of it every year, too.

"I love it. It’s so weirdly rewarding," he said.

Like his father, he hands out food and drink, but he also cheers, encourages and raises the positive-vibe level.

"It just makes you feel good," he said.

Dani Zibell-Wolfe, volunteer director with Ironman Coeur d'Alene, said volunteers are an integral part of the success of every Ironman race.

"They inspire, encourage, and push these athletes to the finish line," she said. "There are incredible stories from athletes of how the volunteers made the positive difference in getting them through the day. And many new friendships have begun with the interaction of athletes and volunteers.”

She added that Ironman captains like Terrence Northington "are incredibly unselfish with their time and energy. They are the heart and soul of the Ironman volunteer program."

Terrence Northington and his team will again be at aid station three on the bike course, the farthest one south on U.S. 95.

His day starts around 5 a.m. and won't end "until that last guy comes around that turn.”

Even then, he'll head downtown to see if they need finish-line help.

"As long as I don't sit down and take a break, I can keep going," he said.

Northington likes knowing cyclists are counting on them in the hottest area of the course, often baking, with no shade.

"When you're out in the middle of nowhere, we’re like an oasis," he said, laughing.

Over the years, he has seen cyclists fading, struggling, grimacing, trying to fight on. Some stop, legs so cramped they can't pedal another mile, and almost fall over.

In a way, he understands what they're going through, when they reach the point of defeat.

"We’ve all been up against it, right?" he said.

Northington and team won't let them surrender if they can help it. They do their best to boost their spirits to keep them moving. Perhaps what helps most is his wife's pickle juice.

Yes, pickle juice.

A drink of that and they're off.

"I guarantee you she’s saved a couple guys that way,” he said.

Northington said they want every Ironman to finish well and volunteers take it personally if they don't.

"Everybody’s story is weaved together. You're part of our story and we’re a part of your story," he said.

Despite the stress that comes with making sure supplies and volunteers are in place on race day, Northington doubts he'll stop volunteering with Ironman.

"It’s just part of my DNA," he said.

His greatest reward, he said, is when the cyclists have come and gone, the trash has all been collected and the aid station cleanup is done.

All that remains of a once chaotic scene of bikes buzzing by is some ice dumped on the roadside.

Only he and the volunteers know what went on there. And when they reflect on the day, on the hundreds of cyclists they kept on the road, pride kicks in.

"When you know you’re done and you’re putting it away, it’s an accomplishment," Northington said. "It’s very personal."