On July 13th The Karten Ironman Austria Triathlon takes place in the lakeside resort of Klagenfurt.
So what is an ironman race?
The story goes that a commander Collins while based in Hawaii was debating the fitness levels of various athletes with some friends.
He toyed with the idea of combining the three toughest local endurance races (2.4mile open water swim in Waikiki, the around Oahu bike race (112mile) and then the Honolulu Marathon (26miles). This once- obscure race has not only flourished over the years, it has exploded into 'ironmania'.
This is the 10th year of the Austrian endurance event and all 2000 places sold out in only 19 hours one year ago!
Why the panic to enter? There are only 16 such sanctioned events on the planet.
A group of individuals from an eclectic mix of sporting backgrounds decided to accept the challenge. Spurred on relentlessly by Fergus McGirr an experienced four-time ironman who has the mind and build of Napoleon.
The group includes Alan Ward, Steven Dickson, Glen Warnock (speed merchants), Ewan Ballentine, Peter Skeffington, Conor Eanetta, Sean Healy, Brian O'Reilly, Fergus McGirr, Fearghal Corrigan and Damien Gormley . This motley crew regularly gather at Castle Archdale Marina and either cycle round the lower Lough or do the 'killer swim' of out to the fifth marker and back.
The running tracks around this area are quiet and scenic for runs.
This group have completed in total over 50 marathons, half marathons, 10k races, time trial bike races and even the Wicklow 200 cycle race as part of their preparation.
With such a rich history in Triathlon coming out of the county it could be suggested that some structure could be set up for the coming years to deal with the interest being shown in the area of this multisport activity. Fermanagh would make a fabulous setting.
What's the allure of the ironman? What makes this goal of completing this race so powerful?
This is simply nuts, undoable, too risky, impossible. One learns the exact distances of each discipline.
One thinks of being in the middle of the mass water start of 2000 pairs of flailing arms churning up a once placid Austrian lake. Is it the smell of neoprene in the morning?
The seven hour plus bike ride. This repetitive irrational behaviour of spinning legs glued and crouched to the aero bars like your life depended on it, for the sole purpose of arriving exactly where they started 112 miles ago.
The simple unmissable fact of completing a full marathon tagged on at the end.
The physical conditions that will quietly sap every molecule of energy painfully out of your being.
