True story: an oldy but a goody

The real preparation period began when Brian arrived at his families accommodation.. remembering that he left it too late to book "I mean how hard could it be to find a unit in Forster...?" It’s a holiday town, right ? Everyone else seemed to be in the lap of luxury complete with mandatory ocean views, the sparkling Pacific, frolicking dolphins. Yeah right ! So he was in a circa 1960 aluminum caravan 2 ks from anything that even resembles a coffee shop, with no room to swing even a small pussy, vinyl (yes that’s right I said vinyl) beds - don’t even get him started on the en-suite ! The bed was too small for two humans - ("Oh, not mentioning he was booking for humans ?") so he slept on the floor. Anyway he managed to get a good nights sleep - only problem was it was spread over the entire three nights prior to the race. The Russians used to use sleep deprivation to crack prisoners didn’t they ? Thus he arrived at the start feeling like a man who had done 13 rounds against Jo Frazier and Muhammed Ali doing tag team.

The early dawn was breaking as competitor number Brian arrived at the start for his inaugural ironman event, yes he was a virgin. Whilst most of the other 1500 competitors were anxiously heading for the swim start Brian was arriving at the venue with a very patient wife and kids in tow, he was a tad late.

First on the agenda for the day was to prepare his bike, he had checklist in hand; helmet, shoes, food and cycle clothes, but where were they? He checked them in the day before as required, however, the officials were not going to give them back to him so that he could set up. After querying a few rather puzzled volunteers and harassing even more officials Brian learnt that you did not pick up your gear bag until after you completed the swim. Satisfied with this step now under control he approached the swim start observing that wet suits did not seem to be all that important to the other 1500 competitors since they did not have theirs, only to be told that the water temperature was too hot and that they had been banned. Being a capable swimmer with many aquatic tricks up his sleeve he forged his way to the waters edge and being a person of superior intellect chose to wear his old goggles rather than risk the new pair he had just bought and had yet to try out. Having donned his swim cap and feeling more confident he pulled on his old goggles, dunked his head in the water now remembering why he had bought a new pair, yes they leaked. The siren went and the 1500 mass start was under way, competitor Brian made a good start and found clear water, however, those dammed goggles kept filling with water and he had had enough of them, so what do you do after swimming the best part of 1.5km with one eye closed? You stand up and walk! A voice from the crowd yelled ”That’s Brian“ and to tumultuous cheers from the bank he waved to his disciples and with his new found celebrity status he forged on inspired to new heights completing the swim in a most credible time and finally being reunited with his beloved bike bag.

            Picking up his bag he ran into the transition tent where he now learnt about one of the fringe benefits of ironman called the volunteer. These number over 3000 on the day and are members of the local Forster community who help out as handlers, aid stations, bike catchers and finish catchers, and a myriad of other jobs throughout the day and week. Brian’s volunteer helper came to his aid to effect a smooth transition but was somewhat shocked when he emptied Brian’s bag to expose not only, knicks, cycle top, gloves, shoes, helmet, Gu gels and what every ironman needs for the 180km ride, two hot cross buns. Once geared up with buns stuffed down his nicks Brian headed out to find his bike, which is not easy when you swim a good time because there are so many to choose from. Onto the bike and through the corridor of endless cheers of support, “go Brian”, “looking good Brian”, “awesome swim Brian”, “who the hell is Brian?” Building speed down the avenue and feeling like he could beat the world, but still remembering he had a long way to go. So time for a check: still breathing – good, must eat – yep, set computer – oops and as he pushed the button on his bike computer it fell off skidding along the road. At this point with the rest of the field forging down upon him Brian was compelled to keep riding, making his way to the edge of the road, dismounting and having to do a warm up run back down the corridor of supporters to locate his beloved computer.

Settling into a good rhythm on the bike and feeling strong the first 90km went by without incident, this wasn’t so bad after all and these new wheels really were worth the marriage, Brian thought to himself as he entered town for the second great buzz of support from the crowds who lined the streets. Funny thing he thought as he left the city limits to head out onto the Lakes Way for the second time, even though I still have 90km to go I feel like I am on my way home. Riding through the country you see some fun sights: groups of people dressed up in costumes, signs of support in the middle of nowhere, hippy chicks off a commune singing and dancing. However the supporters also see some funny sights too. When Brian had about 30 km to go out on a secluded section of Coomber Road nature took its calling for a wee stop. Dismounting and whilst taking relief, being modest Brian was checking over his shoulder for any oncoming competitors failing to notice the group of local farmers having a party on the other side of the bushes who were highly amused at his race equipment.

This embarrassment only spurred him on to ride harder and when he hit town he was flying, now turn left into the main street, U turn at the new turn around, and left into the finish chute, wait a minute the guy in front didn’t turn. Brian not wanting to miss an advantage thought, “this guy knows something I don’t, I had better follow him”. Well about 150m up the street and with a little coercion from the crowd, these two wayward sheep made there way back to the finish chute. The crowd was going nuts “there’s Brian they all yelled” “killing it mate” however, he was a little concerned when some unknown person grabbed his bike with his new wheels and ran off down the street without giving him a valet ticket.

Into the transition tent with yet another gear bag and another handler, this one even more bemused at the sight of two squashed and soggy hot cross buns falling out of Brian’s nicks, dam, I forgot to eat my lunch he thought. And so off onto his favourite leg, the run, and he was almost finished, just 42km to go.

The only event of any consequence on the run was when Brian thought it would be a good idea to stretch out his quads about half way through - the ensuing cramps brought his Ironman to a rapid halt and he had to walk the next 500 m until the pain subsided.

The end was in sight, street parties, fellow competitors, high fives, words of encouragement, all was good. Brian was cruising feeling strong when he came across a fellow training partner who by this stage was running good solid 15minute kms, and what do you do when you are flying, you slow down and you tell your mate come on I’ll run with you. To which his mate graciously thanked him then told him to nick off and go and get his medal in the time he had earnt.

Then there it was the music, the cheering, the party, the finish chute. He had made it, he was no longer a virgin and it only took 11hours 14minutes to hear those words from Mike Riley the voice of ironman….

“Brian YOU ARE AN IRONMAN”