Ironman

“What does not destroy me, makes me stronger” – Nietzsche

I first heard of the Ironman from a German guy who came to stay with my family.  Tom-Tom (his adopted name) had recently completed one.  I was in awe.  I said, and always maintained, “I could never do that.”

That was why it had to be the Ironman.  Having left the wheelchair behind I needed a challenge; a goal.  I needed to create my own milestone.  I needed something that I couldn’t have done before, to prove I was better, stronger, than before.

It wasn’t an easy decision, and I agonised over it for a long time.  Too long.  I had looked at the dates of the various Ironmans around the world – there was one in New Zealand that coincided with an internship I had managed to get and entry was about to open.   Yes, I thought, if I do it, that’s the one.

I continued my rehabilitation/training and checked back a month later.  Ironman New Zealand, never full in its entire history, had sold out in 2 weeks.  My plan was screwed.

I looked at the other available Ironmans: Mexico in 6 months.  Maybe.  Right timeframe but a long way and a lot of money.  Or Ironman UK.  In 2 months. 

I didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.  I signed up.  2 months to train for an Ironman.  They suggest a year and I was quite literally coming from a standing start.  I had wanted a challenge...

I doubted myself from that second until 8.45pm on 1 August 2010 when the finish line came into view.  When I crossed it I am not ashamed to say that I broke down and wept.

It was as if I had spent the previous 17 months, and run the entire race, with a huge weight on my shoulders.  I had been carrying the baggage of my accident ever since I had fallen.  And in that moment, as I crossed the finish line with the words “George Watkins, you are an Ironman” ringing in my ears, I left it behind.