handlebars and battling against the wind that seemed to hit from all angles. Out on the Bundoran Road, the helicopter with RTÃ cameramen overhead, it was signalled to me that the leaders of the race were about a quarter of a mile ahead and I was closing in. In the lead were Tom Heaney and John Glass, both from the North. After I powered past them, with 30 miles to go, all I had was the lead timing vehicle in front of me to concentrate my mind.
I visualised the car as a competitor leading the race and I kept pushing on, not knowing who behind me was playing catch-up or how the day would unfold, except that I had no intention of relinquishing my title. The day that had begun so bleakly began to brighten up just as I started the run. When I got to the far end of Rosses Point Beach, I took one good look backwards and there was nobody in sight. I had a lead of at least the length of the beach, so I settled into my customary pace â five minutes, twenty seconds per mile. With five miles to go, I was just entering Sligo town and the run out to the finish at Rosses Point, when I saw my dad standing beside his car at the side of the road waving his hands and shouting: âSlow down, slow down, thereâs no need to rush!â
Running the half marathon course in 73 minutes ensured that I had won the triathlon in 4 hours, 4 minutes and 30 seconds, a massive 14 minutes ahead of Adrian Byrne who had been the runner-up the previous year. In third place was Drumboâs Desi McHenry â better known as Superman, as he sported Superman-like Lycra attire. Nico Mul finished fourth, and claimed afterwards that he never warmed up. Ann Kearney from Dublin was a revelation. Ann, a 36-year-old housewife who trained three times each day and won all the mini-triathlons in the run-up to Sligo, had exited the sea earlier in the day a shivering and forlorn figure, so frozen she could hardly walk up the beach. She thawed out and stuck in for a long day, finishing third behind new womenâs champion Juliet Smith from Malahide, whose winning time was 5 hours, 5 minutes and 30 seconds, and Donia Nugent from Galway, the Irish record holder at 24-hour and 100-mile ultra running distance events, and truly one of the toughest women in Irish sport.
It was a rough day all round, but I had won my ticket to Hawaii to compete against the best in the world in the most famous triathlon of them all â the Hawaii Ironman.
5
Ironman â The Ultimate Test of Endurance
Getting to participate in the Hawaii Ironman was one of the most exciting episodes in my career as an athlete and has had a positive influence on my life outside of sport. Above all, it taught me that the impossible is possible.
Imagine itâs February 18, 1978 and you are one of fifteen supposedly brave people standing on San Souci Beach in Waikiki, Hawaii. You are looking out into the sea, casting your eyes 2.4 miles across to where your bicycle is waiting. The waves are rolling in and your stomach is in a knot. What have you signed up for? Are you stone mad?
After completing the swim, and in the event of no shark attacks, you will mount your bicycle and ride 112 miles around the island of Oahu in the midday sun â when perhaps only mad dogs and Irishmen would venture out. After finishing the mammoth bike ride, ideally unscathed, you then run the Honolulu Marathon course, a full 26.2 miles. If you finish all that, then youâre an Ironman.
As it turned out, only twelve of those fifteen brave souls finished the first Ironman in 1978. Each received a trophy, handmade by its founder Captain John Collins, of a metal Ironman with a hole in its head. The same trophies were not to be awarded again until 2003, when each finisher of the 25th Anniversary Hawaii Ironman Triathlon, myself included, received a replica of the original trophy upon crossing the finish line, with the inscription âSwim 2.4 miles, cycle 112 miles, run 26.2 miles. Brag for the rest of your
I visualised the car as a competitor leading the race and I kept pushing on, not knowing who behind me was playing catch-up or how the day would unfold, except that I had no intention of relinquishing my title. The day that had begun so bleakly began to brighten up just as I started the run. When I got to the far end of Rosses Point Beach, I took one good look backwards and there was nobody in sight. I had a lead of at least the length of the beach, so I settled into my customary pace â five minutes, twenty seconds per mile. With five miles to go, I was just entering Sligo town and the run out to the finish at Rosses Point, when I saw my dad standing beside his car at the side of the road waving his hands and shouting: âSlow down, slow down, thereâs no need to rush!â
Running the half marathon course in 73 minutes ensured that I had won the triathlon in 4 hours, 4 minutes and 30 seconds, a massive 14 minutes ahead of Adrian Byrne who had been the runner-up the previous year. In third place was Drumboâs Desi McHenry â better known as Superman, as he sported Superman-like Lycra attire. Nico Mul finished fourth, and claimed afterwards that he never warmed up. Ann Kearney from Dublin was a revelation. Ann, a 36-year-old housewife who trained three times each day and won all the mini-triathlons in the run-up to Sligo, had exited the sea earlier in the day a shivering and forlorn figure, so frozen she could hardly walk up the beach. She thawed out and stuck in for a long day, finishing third behind new womenâs champion Juliet Smith from Malahide, whose winning time was 5 hours, 5 minutes and 30 seconds, and Donia Nugent from Galway, the Irish record holder at 24-hour and 100-mile ultra running distance events, and truly one of the toughest women in Irish sport.
It was a rough day all round, but I had won my ticket to Hawaii to compete against the best in the world in the most famous triathlon of them all â the Hawaii Ironman.
5
Ironman â The Ultimate Test of Endurance
Getting to participate in the Hawaii Ironman was one of the most exciting episodes in my career as an athlete and has had a positive influence on my life outside of sport. Above all, it taught me that the impossible is possible.
Imagine itâs February 18, 1978 and you are one of fifteen supposedly brave people standing on San Souci Beach in Waikiki, Hawaii. You are looking out into the sea, casting your eyes 2.4 miles across to where your bicycle is waiting. The waves are rolling in and your stomach is in a knot. What have you signed up for? Are you stone mad?
After completing the swim, and in the event of no shark attacks, you will mount your bicycle and ride 112 miles around the island of Oahu in the midday sun â when perhaps only mad dogs and Irishmen would venture out. After finishing the mammoth bike ride, ideally unscathed, you then run the Honolulu Marathon course, a full 26.2 miles. If you finish all that, then youâre an Ironman.
As it turned out, only twelve of those fifteen brave souls finished the first Ironman in 1978. Each received a trophy, handmade by its founder Captain John Collins, of a metal Ironman with a hole in its head. The same trophies were not to be awarded again until 2003, when each finisher of the 25th Anniversary Hawaii Ironman Triathlon, myself included, received a replica of the original trophy upon crossing the finish line, with the inscription âSwim 2.4 miles, cycle 112 miles, run 26.2 miles. Brag for the rest of your
Similar Books
