Ironman
Korea-Jeju
2006
text by: gregory burns
photos by: angie tan
Eight months ago, the idea of completing an Ironman competition entered my consciousness. Not in the way that so many other far fetched ideas have come and gone. This time the concept stuck. Given the green light by the race’s title sponsor, Standard Chartered Bank, I began cobbling together the items and stamina I suspected I would need to do something once thought impossible.
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Finally in the Shilla Hotel on the beach of Cheju Island, we settled in for the pre-race mayhem. Putting my new racing wheels onto my wheelchair was a shock. They were too big and rubbed on the underside of the wheelchair. I was baffled. Angie suggested we get a hammer and pummel the metal tubing of the chair into submission. Not overly optimistic, we called the concierge and shortly after a man with a hammer arrived. After a bit of sign language he went to work beating the metal underside of my chair. In half an hour, my wheels fit again and I was back in business.
The days before the race were hot and humid with the sea calm and the wind strong. However, rising at 5am on Sunday august 27 for the start of the race, the sky was brooding and spitting lightening. At the starting line everybody was making final preparations. By now, I had a small support team in the form of Chris, Nick, Angie and others who would constantly support me throughout the day. Suited up, we headed down to the beach for the start of the race. At 7am, the officials called for a delay. At 7:10am they canceled the swim due to lightening.
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For another hour I traveled through the hills. Finally at the 130km mark the course flattened out and I could see the descent ahead. I put my arms into neutral and swept down the slopes for 10kms at close to 60kms per hour. It was glorious and I savored the calm as I knew the next hill was just ahead. And it did arrive, and this time at the 155km point I was exhausted. But I was only 25 kms from my goal and I was still doing okay on my speed. Slowly I managed to heave myself up the last hill and again I was gliding towards the finish line. One of the numerous camera vans shadowing me throughout the race
positioned itself in front of me as I descended, the camera man filming out the back of the van. “Go, Go, Go!” I bellowed as I almost crawled up his tail pipe. But the race was winding down and I was heading for the transition. I completed the bike in 8:23:28 according to the clock though my watch said 8:15. But either way, I had finished the 180kms in less than the 9 hours I had hoped for. My team and the media gathered round me and I rested and got ready for the marathon.
I spent 40 minutes recharging before moving out onto the 14km loop that I would need to complete three times. Though the bike route was hilly, in relative terms the run was worse. The course was anything but flat. I found myself dazed and amazed at how long the hills stretched on in front of me. My heavy camel bag with my fluids and extra tires proved of no use as I could not manage to get anything out of the mouthpiece. Dragging myself onwards I managed to reach the end of the first loop and headed back. Now fortunately, it was a mostly downhill. After 90 minutes I reached the stadium and the end of the first loop. My team fed me and stripped me of my useless bag. I was back on course and feeling better and lighter. I pushed into a rhythm and managed to get my speed up. But by now I had been racing for 10 hours and my body was beginning to spit back at me. My stomach was queasy from all the different training gels and fluids I had consumed. I found that leaning over to push the chair, though efficient, made me feel sick as it squashed my heart and stomach. I alternated between sitting upright and leaning forward as I carried on. After another 70 minutes I reached my support team again and I had just one loop to go.
By now it was dark and some runners were starting to wobble. I had to be extra careful not to collide with someone on the course. Nick had given me a whistle which I blew when flying downhill and past runners who were often too dazed to care. With just half a lap to go I kicked up the pace a bit as the end was getting near.
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