The Sound of Music

The Singapore team is now in Klagenfurt, Austria. It is two days before Ironman Austria 2009. The air is buzzing with electricity, the kind you find just before 2,700 anxious triathletes plunge into an adventure of a lifetime.

I am anticipating my day of reckoning. Doing my eighth Ironman triathlon does not make it easier. It is different. The same physiological functions of 'fight, flight and fright' kicks in instinctively. There many athletes here; some look humble and unassuming, and others intimidating in their own ocean of confidence. No one is malicious or deliberately challenging. It must be somewhat akin to pre-battle anxiety before warriors take that all-or-nothing swipe at their enemies.

Triathlon has that warring antitude, except no lives are claimed; only personal best times, personal achievements, a podium possibility, a medal, and a t-shirt. Otherwise, it is just another day at the office. A day that is punctuated by the full-stop: 'You are an Ironman!'

What may happen a day after the 226km race may be these words: 'This morning I went for a swim, ride and run, and came home an Ironman!' Yes, these are infamous words and they come along with the morning-after limp; it is part of the territory. The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. So does the crippling, calculated, walk that follows days after. Ouch!