This past weekend Iowa held its 8th Annual Dance Marathon - we raised $519,990.70 - which is $15,000 higher than last year - oh yeah, we rock
They came, they saw, they danced
By Lauren Smiley
The Daily Iowan
Sunlight streams into a darkened ballroom littered with trampled cups and decorations. Four oversized fans diffuse the scent of 12 hours of frenetic dancing.
At 1 p.m. Saturday, the weary dancers are hitting the home stretch.
"There are highs and lows, but the last six hours are all high because you have the adrenaline pumping and you're almost there," says UI senior and five-time Dance Marathon participant Alex Bullock.
Approximately 900 UI undergraduates -- 100 more than last year -- danced from 7 p.m. Feb. 1 to 7 p.m. Feb. 2 in the eighth-annual Dance Marathon, a campaign to raise money for children with cancer and their families. This year's effort, held in the IMU Main Ballroom, raised a record $519,990.70 for 150 children treated at the UI Hospitals and Clinics. Last year's campaign raised $504,222.77.
A trial of endurance
Colorful dedication posters and a lit candle symbolizing children lost to cancer served as visual motivation for the dancers, who sacrificed sleep, showers, and sitting during the largest Children's Miracle Network-sponsored dance marathon in the United States.
"It's the longest I've been standing up and the longest I've been awake," said sophomore Allison Ford, adding that the secret to fighting exhaustion is to keep moving. "You just can't stop dancing."
Dressed in Mardi Gras beads and a lei, Ford said her energy waned when the families and their children, who danced alongside students, left for the night. Local band the Nadas, the Chicago-based MER, the UI Steel Drum Band, and an Alley Cat drag show enlivened the hours that followed.
The IMU's clocks were masked, and the dancers were banned from wearing watches. Although Ford followed that rule, she fudged another when her friends brought her a Coke in the wee hours of the morning.
"They smuggled it in," she said, laughing. "I don't think we're supposed to have caffeine."
Relief for tired soles
Jumbo bottles of lotion and baby powder were strewn about tables and chairs in a make-shift massage lounge adjoining the pulsating ballroom. There, dancers made unlimited return trips for foot rubs from volunteers.
"It feels great after you've been dancing for so long, especially because you get the chance to sit down," said UI freshman Heidi Blake, who received two foot rubs. "You go through a lot in 24 hours."
His head circled in faux ivy, Ron Irlmeier of Manning, Iowa, massaged feet continuously for more than 10 hours.
"I've been on my butt for a long time," said the father of an 11-year-old cancer survivor.
His daughter, Laura Irlmeier, gathered up bottles nearby. They attended the first marathon eight years ago, when Laura was in remission from cancer. Ron Irlmeier has been relieving feet at the event ever since.
"This is the way I can pay back the dancers for what they do," he said, adding that dancers return to him for massages year after year. "I always build their confidence up, saying they are raising money for a charitable cause. And then I say, 'Now go out there and dance.' "
A battle till the end
The dancing stopped at 6 p.m. For the five-year veteran Bullock, the closing hour is "one of those great experiences in life." Several dancers shed tears as they watched a tribute video for the children who lost their battle with cancer. The dancers sang "Angels Among Us" as they swayed in a human chain lining the room.
"You feel sad for what they've lost but still great because you're helping them," Bullock said.
As she sat for the first time to watch the video, junior Evelena Ornelas said the end of Dance Marathon brought personal vindication.
"It's physical relief, but more of a sense of accomplishment on the inside by knowing we didn't just donate money to a cause but survived a test of endurance -- something these children have to face everyday," she said.