Uphill all the way. Ironcop Mark Sharp with just 180km to go

There comes a day in the life of all triathletes, old or young, when they have to pit themselves against the ultimate challenge - completing three separate sporting events of long distance in succession, as quickly as possible. The triathlon, appropriately called the Ironman, is a challenge that entails a 3.8km open water swim ensued immediately by an 180km bike ride which is then followed by a full marathon of 42.2km. These distances were the idea of quite "normal" individuals who back in the 1970's wanted to determine who was the fittest of all athletes: the swimmer, the cyclist or the runner. So, they decided to combine all three events and see who would fare the best in an all new athletic category namely, the Ironman. Recently, POC manager Mark Sharp swam, biked and ran 226km in 11 hours and 25 minutes. Insanity? You're darn right . . .

WRITES Inspector Sharp: "The date was 24 August 1997 and the location was the town of Penticton nestled on a lakeshore in the scenic surroundings of the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia, Canada. I was standing on the beach at 7am with 1,700 other triathletes (four of whom were ex-Hong Kong Police Inspectors) and all of whom were contemplating the same fate - attempting the Ironman.

¡@"Boom! - a cannon blast sounded and there was no more time for contemplation, we had to get on with the day ahead. Entering the water with 1,700 competitive individuals is something akin to being placed in a washing machine . . . arms and legs thrashing the water, and foam everywhere. It was basically an aquatic punch up. Anyway, after 1km the crowds spread out and we got on with our swimming.

¡@"I exited the water 3.8km later (somewhat faster than I expected), got out of my wetsuit, grabbed my cycling gear and headed to where the bikes were waiting. This was the part I had been dreading - the 180km bike ride. Having done very little bike training over the last few years I had a gut feeling that it was going to hurt . . . a lot. I was right.

¡@"The temperature dropped from the normal 27 degrees to a numbing 13 degrees and to make matters worse it was raining hard with strong headwinds which brought on the added problem of wind chill. No one was prepared for this sudden change in climatic conditions and we went from worrying about heat exhaustion to hypothermia. Cramping became the big enemy and as I hit the 120km mark my legs were constantly going into painful spasmodic cramps.

¡@"By 150km I was drained and felt sick. My back was killing me and my legs were finished. 'Thank God there are only 30km left to go', I told myself, and soldiered on.

¡@"With 10km remaining I thought: 'Strewth, I've still got to run a marathon and I feel like a herd of elephants has just trampled over me'.

¡@"The cycling over . . . I got off the bike . . . but where did my legs go? . . . I can't walk let alone run and I want to throw up. I put my running shoes on, and out I go onto the course. I am moving forward but it cannot be described as running . . . I feel terrible.

¡@"One-hour-and-fifty-one minutes later it is still raining, cold and I reach the 13.1km marker. I think to myself: 'Blimey, if I keep this up I will be on for a 3-hour-45-minute marathon'. Then I explode and a cramp strikes again . . . 'I'm finished now', I thought. I hit the roadside and sat there trying to stretch the cramp out. As it turned out it was also a good opportunity to pee and throw up.

¡@"Feeling a bit better - off I shuffled.

¡@"Finally there are just two miles to go and the crowds lining the route are great. They are shouting encouragement and urging the runners on. The finish line is in sight and my daughter screams at me to hurry up.

¡@"I crossed the line in 11 hours and 25 minutes, after which I was wrapped in a silver foil blanket and escorted to the medical tent for the post race check up. Ten minutes later I'm re-united with my family and hobble slowly back to the hotel.

¡@"Will I be doing it again next year? . . . You betcha!"