Flying Officer Rob Town, 24, completed the challenge of a lifetime in July by successfully conquering the Austrian Iron Man challenge in 14 hours and 35 minutes. The event, which included a 2.4 mile swim, an 112 mile bike ride and a 26.2 mile run, is billed as one of the most testing triathlons in the world. In the process Rob raised £550 for the RAF Benevolent Fund.
Last year, after three of Rob’s mates from 233 Squadron were killed in a helicopter crash, the RAF Benevolent Fund stepped in to help the families. Rob wanted to complete the course in their memory and raised some money for a good cause at the same time – and he did it in style. Many congratulations from everyone at the RAF Benevolent Fund.
Read Rob’s account of the race below
Ironman Austria
Sitting on the lakeside 10 minutes before the start of the race, my heart pounding, hands shaking due to adrenaline, a strange thing happened. The screaming, cheering and loud music stopped as a local Priest waded into the water to give Mass. With this formality over, the crowd was quickly whipped back to frenzy as the announcer declared “Give it up for the IRONMEN!” it seemed that by standing on the start line we had already been granted entry to this exclusive club of endurance athletes, as I looked around I could see why. To get here each of us had trained for months on end, sacrificed time with our friends and families, suffered the rain and cold and for what? To put our bodies through the most grueling of tests, 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run, all back to back, all in one day!
With 5 minutes to go I stand up, put my swimming goggles and cap on, make sure my wetsuit is snug and that my shoulders are warmed up. I walk toward the waters edge; we wait. 2500 people waiting by the calm, crystal clear water. The cannon explodes, signaling the start of the race; we turn the still lake into a fury of white water and flailing limbs. For the next 1 hour 20 I swim. The only sound I can hear is that of my own breath and the splashing of my arms entering the water. I remember what my friend Bryce had told me beforehand; “the swim is just a warm up” I take it easy, relax into my stroke and concentrate on where I’m going. At one stage I see the rescue boats next to me, I panic, thinking that I am one of the last people in the water, a punch to the head by another competitor tells me otherwise. Seeing the swim exit I start kicking my legs harder as a common problem is that once you exit the water blood rushes to your feet and you feel dizzy, kicking your legs in the last 100m of the swim forces the blood to circulate earlier countering this effect.
Volunteers pull you out of the water. I undo my wetsuit and pull it down to my waist as I run to transition and grab my BIKE bag. I run to the changing tent, upend the bag, rip off the wetsuit and stuff it in the bag. Socks, shoes, helmet, race number, sunglasses and sun cream get put on. I hand the bag to the volunteer and run to my bike. The warm up is over. I start cycling hard, I need to get some speed and put some distance between me and the other 6 people who exited transition at the same time, as I get to the main road the rider in front of me snatches his brakes and goes over his handlebars, I think “I’m going down here” as I swerve to avoid him. By some miracle I manage to stay on my bike and speed off feeling sorry for him, his race is over. For the first 20 minutes of the bike I drink nothing but water, I have to replenish the fluids I have used during the swim. Once that’s done I set into my nutritional strategy, over the course of the bike I will eat 12 energy Gels, 4 bananas and 2 Powerbars. I will drink 6 liters of isotonic, 5 liters of water and ½ a liter of Irn Bru.
As I cycle round the route I try to keep my heart rate below 160bpm. I settle into a good rhythm and succeed in doing so until I hit the first climb. Like a stage of the Tour de France, names and numbers are painted on the ground, people cheer as we climb the hill and, for the first time all morning, a smile creeps onto my face. Yes I am in pain, yes I have another 90miles to ride but I’m enjoying myself, the sun is shining, people are cheering, calling my name, I’ve even passed some other athletes (I’m a climber, not a sprinter!) I see a Union Flag and hear a large Scottish lady scream “Come on the Air Force!” the smile grows as I pound the pedals and reach the summit.
The next 30 miles are uneventful and then it happens. The worst thing any triathlete can do is to run out of energy on the bike, it’s called Bonking. I am so paranoid of this I eat too much and now 52 miles into a 112 mile bike, I feel sick! I drink more water to try and help digest the food, stop eating and keep pedaling. For the next 90 minutes I eat nothing. I pass the turnaround point and consider getting off and quitting as I feel so sick, but the voice in the back of my head tells me to man up and deal with it! I cycle past the special needs station and grab my bag. Holding it in my teeth I rummage around inside for more gels and my secret weapon; a water bottle filled with flat Irn Bru. Over a race of this distance having something that you like to eat is a massive psychological boost and today this weird tasting, orange, sugary drink is my ambrosia! I start feeling better and get back to eating and riding the second lap hard. The heavens open, thunder, lightning and rain so heavy it stings your back. Immediately you can make out who the Brits are, we have trained in this weather and we know how to the ride in the wet, our European cousins haven’t and it shows as we start to pass them. As I ride in the rain I wish somebody would hand me a newspaper so I can put it down my top to keep the cold off my chest, but at one aid station I get given something better, a rain cape! Life is looking up for me as I happily pedal the last 30 miles to transition.
As much as I love cycling, after 7 hours in the saddle I am glad to get off the bike, I grab my RUN bag and go to the changing tent. Change of shoes and socks, put a hat on and go! I pass underneath a banner saying “42km run” and begin the marathon. The run takes me through the Ironman city and I see my Scottish friend again and also a group from East Essex Tri, “Go on RAF! You’re nearly there!” I hear as I head out onto the first of two laps. My run strategy is simple, run for 15 minutes walk for 5 minutes. This works for the first hour but then becomes 5 on 5 off, then power walk, then walk, then shuffle! I run through the city of Klagenfurt, hold my head high and grit my teeth as I feel the blisters on my feet burst. I am representing the RAF and am determined to run in front of the public; away from their gaze however, I go back to shuffling. Back in Ironman city I run past my new friends and head out on the second lap. I’ve come too far now to quit. I will finish this race! I pick up the pace and start alternating running and shuffling I get to the final mile and decide to finish with style. I pick my feet up and start running, every part of me hurts, my feet are blistered, my legs are sore, my pelvis doesn’t know what’s been happening for the last 14 hours and my shoulders are sunburned! I run in the dark, through the pain and through Ironman city for the last time. 400m to go and the crowds are there, cheering, screaming, and clapping. I lift my head, push my shoulders back and enjoy their admiration. I turn the final corner and am faced with the finishers shoot. I pick up the pace and sprint the final 200m, arms pumping, legs burning with lactic acid.
I hear the words “No 142, ROB TOWN YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!” as I cross the line. I yell, punch the air and feel my chest muscles tear as I yell some more. I have done it! 14 hours, 35 minutes, 52 seconds and I am an Ironman.
An English woman wraps a foil blanket around me and escorts me to the recovery tent. I pass rows of stretchers and a M.A.S.H style hospital where athletes are receiving IV’s and oxygen. I get sat on a table and a local masseuse massages my legs, God it feels good not to be moving! I am asked how I feel and if I will ever do another one, “I’m on top of the world and I’ve already signed up for Ironman Germany next July!” I reply. The masseuse looks at me as if I’m insane, she is probably right, but nothing can compare to the feeling of pride and achievement you get when you cross that finish line. I am an addict. I want more!
The Ironman motto is “Pain is Temporary, Pride is Forever” when I first heard it I thought it was just a catchy gimmick, something to keep TV sponsors happy. During my training however, I realised that it wasn’t. It is a mentality, a statement that you will not quit, that you can cope with pain and that no matter what happens, for one day you proved yourself to be among the top 1% of triathletes.
In training for this event I swam 38.2 miles, biked 1,359 and ran 374. I used over 13,000 calories on the day and raised £550 for the RAFBF. It took me 3 days before I could walk without hurting and I’ll not train for a month so that my body has a decent chance to recover. It was the single most painful thing I have done in my life and I loved every minute of it!
