Born to Perform by Gerard Hartmann Page A

of Rosses Point, where thousands of spectators waited for the finishing athletes, while being entertained by music and race updates.
    Unlike now, when there are some 140 triathlons of all distances in the country, the majority being the short sprint distances, in Ireland in the 1980s triathlon meant one thing and one thing only – the All-Ireland Triathlon in Sligo or the “Sligo Tri”, as some people called it.
    For the 1985 event Pat Curley upped the ante and invited several international top-rated triathletes to Sligo to make it a battle royal at the elite level and give it some international exposure. Nico Mul, from the Netherlands, had finished eleventh in the 1984 Hawaii Ironman, and we were told he ate rusty nails for breakfast. Mul did indeed turn up – he was going to put me to the test. The event sponsors, Premier Dairies and Puma, in alliance with RTÉ and Pat Curley’s triathlon committee, made it worthwhile for him and a couple of foreigners to compete, and enticed them further with a first-place prize of £750. The stakes were high, as I had a title to defend, but RTÉ had confirmed that the men’s and women’s Irish champion would receive an all-expenses-paid trip to compete in the Hawaii Ironman that October. That was all the incentive I needed.
    Another visitor blew in overnight to almost spoil the day. News from the meteorological office the day before that All-Ireland Triathlon, set for Sunday, June 23, 1985, warned of severe gale forces and inclement weather. Hurricane Charlie had blown up a storm of mass destruction along the south-eastern coast of the US, and also caused massive damage along the Gulf Coast.
    Pat Curley and his organising committee woke up to their worst nightmare. Perhaps they should have had a plan in place, in case of a storm or emergency, to stage the race on an alternative day. But RTÉ cameras and crew were on hand; somehow the show had to go on. At 9.00 a.m., when I arrived at Rosses Point to set up my bike and gear for a big performance, it all looked very ominous. The starter’s gun was set for 10.30 a.m.
    Over by the car park at Rosses Point, everyone had clambered into a large rusty corrugated shed that had “Triathlon” painted on its roof. I met Pat Curley and he greeted me with his usual positive attitude: “Gerard, my man, don’t worry, we’re going to start on time.”
    There was confusion everywhere; people were shaking their heads. It was still gale force eight, with thirty minutes to go, when Pat Curley’s voice came on the PA system. Normally he would be heard loud and clear, but with the wind howling and rain lashing only a few heard his message. The sea looked rough and ugly. This was going to test the nerves and rumble the stomach. It was decided to cut the length of the swim from 1.2 miles to just short of a mile.
    So the 1985 All-Ireland Triathlon began with a huge dash into the incoming waves. Within minutes, a dozen or more competitors had pulled out, abandoning the triathlon they had trained months for. Spectators on the beach watched the drama unfold, with support canoes bobbing up and down and often out of sight in the stormy waters. At the time, wetsuits were a luxury not yet invented for triathletes, although “rusty nails” Dutch champion Nico Mul was wearing the top half of a surfing suit. On such an inclement day almost all the participants exited the sea shivering; some were taken away by the medics to be treated for hypothermia.
    Despite all the drama, most of the starters, with the exception of those who elected to bail out early, made it safely back to the shore. I came out of the water in eighth place, and took my time to change into full biking attire. Where was Mul? I didn’t know.
    It was just a matter of survival for the first twenty minutes on the bike. I was shivering and my teeth were chattering uncontrollably, and most of my energy went into simply holding onto the