Registration...A Pre-Race Warm-up

Had I known this was going to be so entertaining, I would have photo-documented each step of the way. Had I known it was going to be so intensive, I would have brought water. Registration for IMMOO reminded me a bit like registration for the Sprint. Only more complex and with no lines.

I landed in Madison a little after 1p and immediately headed downtown after some complexities in finding the rental car and in driving the rental car. Apparently I can't follow simple instructions (she did say second row) and ended up wandering aimlessly through the first row of parking lot while all my fellow IMers were casually loading up their cars. And apparently I no longer remember how to drive an automatic. This one had both automatic and automatic-manual and I had inadvertently shifted to the manual mode and couldn't figure out why my RPMs were so loud and hovering over 4000. I tried to shift, but ended up downshifting, slowing the car down, creating even more revving and bumping up the RPMs even higher. God was this embarassing...I finally figured it out (I am an engineer after all) and was on my merry way. After several wrong turns, and several laps around blocks, I managed to find a parking spot a mere 8 blocks away and headed over to Monona Terrace.

Check-in:
I entered the main floor and followed the sign point to the left for "Athlete Check-In". It was a long hallway with 2 tables in the middle. Aside from some people sitting at the tables, there was no one else in the hallway. I was expecting to turn into some conference room (they were called Ballrooms) but never passed an open door. I found myself at the end of the hallway with nothing left but the restrooms. And so I headed back. As I approached the tables, it dawned on me that this was the check-in (the giant board with everyone's numbers that I had somehow missed earlier helped with this deduction). I stopped at the table and discovered it literally was just the check-in. They checked my ID. They checked me off a list. And they put a check on my hand (it was actually an "X" but it kills the flow). I was then directed to the opposite end of the hallway.

Paperwork:
The lack of a line had thrown me off, so at least now I knew not to look for one. They had those velvet rope things out that would be useful if there were a line, but at least it told me where to stop. A volunteer appeared and asked me my number and told me to wait for window #2. Someone was already there, so I guess technically, I was the line. Mind you, no one was at window #1. Finally it was my turn and I was given the two waivers that have become a familiar site after dealing with Corporation Ironman all summer. The first has contact information that was supposed to be verified. I was told there was a screw up with the computers and it misprinted everyone's Emergency Contact info so I'd definitely need to correct that (if not, a Bill Davis would be called if anything were to happen to me. Lucky Bill.). I asked if he had a pen. He told me to proceed downstairs and there would be lots of pens.

Pens:
I headed down the escalator and was greeted by another volunteer who told me to go through a set of doors where I'd be able to correct my info. I walked through the doors into one of what has to be The Main Ballrooms of the Monona Terrace. Half of the room was all windows that arched out overlooking the water. Quite a spectacular site (I hadn't had a chance to see the water yet). Down the middle of the room were a line of tables with lots of pens on them. That's it. That was the room. Me, some tables, and some pens. Seriously. I corrected Bill (resolved of all responsibility) and signed what I needed to and headed out the opposite end.

Weigh-in:
I left Pen Room to find 4 men sitting in chairs with scales in front of them. I shed my jacket and backpack and stepped on the scale. My weight was written down on one of my forms and I was pointed to yet another escalator heading downstairs. Really? It was a little more substantial than then Pen Room even though it wasn't even a room, but I could have done that myself.

Filing:
I was greeted by another volunteer at the bottom of the escalator. At this point, there was a small line. Like 2 people. After telling her my number, she pointed to Pete. There were at least 5 other Filers, and none of them had anyone in their line. Pete seemed to be the popular one that day. Pete triple checked all of my information and made sure everything was signed and then filed the waivers into their appropriate boxes. And then pointed me to guess what, another line.

Everything But the Schwag:
Once again, everything was ordered by number and the Everything Elser Volunteers that served my number range were all busy. Finally I was sent to a table to get everything else but the schwag: wristband, swim cap, bibs, stickers, etc. And instructions on how to use everything. After this, I was directed to another line and table.

The Schwag:
The Schwagster volunteer didn't want to repeat himself to everyone, so he waited until there was a small group of us before giving his speech. The schwag bags also contained our gear and special needs bags, so his speech was about making sure we had all of them now, before we left the table. We'd rather find out now than later.

Corporate Greed:
The escalator that was at the end of the Schwag table dumped you off right at the Ironman store. It almost seems like the intent of the maze was to build anticipation: starting off with "oh shit! why did I sign up for this thing?" and working your way through the Registration Stations, gradually building to "I'm a little nervous, but also a little excited" and ending up with a finale of "OMG! I can't believe it's finally here!" so that you now have all this explosive energy that will cause you to run into the Ironman store and grab up everything with an M-dot logo and spends loads of money! If that was the intent, it didn't work on me (though I did spend loads of money throughout the weekend on subsequent trips). Instead,  I was exhausted and really just wanted to lie down. I did have an "oh shit" thought, but it was this: if I was so tired after getting through registration, how the hell was I going to manage on race day?