Ironman 70.3: Young and old flock to Goan beach for gruelling test

Local participation has improved, developing more such events for India, says event organiser

“He got into this only after my initial interest,” Poonam Joshi laughs and says, gesticulating towards her husband, Brig (Retd) Rajesh Joshi. Joshi, 57, was one of the oldest competitors at the Ironman 70.3 Goa, held on Sunday, in which over 1,400 competitors took part in a gruelling course. It was the second time she took part in the event. Her first Ironman 70.3, or half Ironman as it is colloquially known, was at the same venue in 2019.

“After he retired, and when the kids grew up and went away, I thought maybe I should take up some physical activity,” Poonam says, “It started with cycling, when he once took me for a 65k ride. And I was hooked.” Over the next few months, the couple, who live in Indore, would ride long distances together. Poonam even went on to become an informal ambassador to encourage physical activities and was often invited to talk to school students. At one such talk, she heard of this brutal event called the Ironman.

“I came back and told him, and he jumped at it and said, let’s sign up, right now,” she says. “My motto,” Joshi butts in, “is that you should not procrastinate. If I didn’t say it right then, then maybe we would’ve had second thoughts.” And Poonam did, almost immediately, but after four months of training under a triathlon and fitness coach she was ready, completing her first Ironman in 2019 in 8 hours and 29 minutes. For their second, they arrived in Goa three weeks in advance, and a day before the event, they had already navigated and completed the various aspects of the course multiple times.

While the Joshis formed the elder end of the bracket, the event was also a magnet for younger competitors, filled with 20-somethings in what is typically called ‘serious jobs’. Pragna Prasad, 24, training to be a doctor caught the triathlon bug from her brother Prajwal (28). The siblings started training together, first in Mysuru, their hometown, and then through co-ordinated training regimes long distance.

“The last Ironman we participated in together was…” Prajwal smiles wide and looks at his sister. “You remember?” They burst into laughter. The duo’s last Ironman was in New Zealand in March 2020, and they were on the last flight out before the country locked itself down. Upon return, they were forced indoors, and made reliant on treadmills and improvisation.

“One of the advantages of this kind of event coming home,” Pragna says, “is that it reduces the overall expenditure, and also makes it a bit more convenient in this post-pandemic period.”

And prohibitive costs make this event (and any triathlon for that matter) very niche, catering to a demography of amateur athletes, with middle to high incomes, time to spare, and an abiding interest in extreme endurance.

A single entry into the Goa event was Rs 32,000, and that excluded the costs of stay, travel, transport of cycles, equipment, etc. The Prasad siblings drove down from Mangaluru a day before and were planning on heading back after taking one day of rest after the event.

“Our training costs about Rs 20,000 a month,” Pragna says. “And if we travelled abroad for an event (apart from New Zealand they have also competed together in Australia and Malaysia) it would cost anything between Rs 4-5 lakh. So yeah, it’s like a nice long holiday,” she says.

While an event in Goa makes it comfortable for participants, for the organisers, and the Ironman brand itself, it helps expand a market that has been burgeoning for a while. Jeff Edwards, managing director of Ironman Asia, says the company is looking at developing more such events in the future across the country. But it isn’t all expansion without holistic ambition.

“One of things we really hope to do,” Edwards says, “is help create more interest in sport in the communities that Ironman events go to. It takes time. We’ve been holding Ironman events in Hawaii, in Europe for two decades, and we’ve seen a huge spurt in the number of people who cycle, run, swim outdoors, and even just compete in the event itself. Local participation has also improved, and most importantly, the event has helped create demand for better facilities for such activities, and local governments have responded.”

On a lazy Sunday, in Miramar, panting cyclists and overheated runners were the only people on the road. With the course blocked to motorised traffic, the crowds mostly consisted of support staff, families and friends of the competitors. The few locals that did venture out were those whose homes fell within the course. An ambivalent curiosity was in the air, but safe to say it fell short of excitement.

That is not to say there wasn’t any excitement in the air. The support crews of the competitors were on song, with hilarious placards, banners and vocal support on hand for all that passed through.

Nihal Baig, the male winner of the event (4:29:45), an aerospace engineer, was participating in Goa for the second time (he finished third the first time) and generally felt the mood was brighter. “I guess because it returned for the first time after the pandemic, there’s a different kind of buzz.”

A true testament to the growth of the event itself came from Pablo Erat, 51, a Swiss national who is among the most popular faces in the Indian triathlon circuit (based as he has been in Mumbai and Goa for many years now). Erat finished sixth among the men, and was actually in the lead at the end of the cycling leg, before tailing off on the run.

“You know what’s changed,” he says. “Earlier, I would beat a lot of these young guys, they’d be on my tail, but inexperience would cost them. But that’s changed. Now they beat me with smarts, with skill and stamina. And when they pass me, they never fail to drop a thumbs-up. It’s the ultimate tribute for me.”