Highway to Hell.

Now as you may well gather sport has played a huge part in my life. I love the technical side of sport, how to do things well, learn the skills and train to maximise ones abilities. I love the glamour of sport. The anticipation of an event that scared/excited feeling. I love the thrill of being in a team when a victory is registered or sharing an exhilarating event with a good friend or family member. I love more than anything else that beer in the bar when the chance to relive the ordeal or event presents itself.

Like many, witnessing sport can move me to tears as the sheer elation of a conquering hero or heroine or the combined joy of team explodes along with music and all the rest.

There is one sporting moment however that I witnessed that out-shines all others for me. Here I will tell the tale of a good friend of Liz and I and the day he took on The Dragon-Ironman Wales.

Matt Collins is amongst the most delightful people I have ever met. He is tall good looking with a friendly face and eyes that convey warmth and fun. Matt is the best all round craftsmen I have ever met, by a ‘street’. A number of years ago he faced a particular health challenge and during that time Liz and I got to know him very well. His spirit and attitude marked him out as being special and we are very happy to say that we have retained our friendship to this day and every meeting with Matt is a joyful occasion made even better if his Dad Mum or indeed brother are along for the ride.

One day about 5 year ago Matt came to visit and declared he wanted to “do an Ironman’. I suppose in truth my efforts had convinced him that it was obviously possible and as an excellent cyclist there was only the swim and run to think about. It is important to say here that Matt really could hardly swim and his idea of running was limited to the odd dash across the road.

What happened next therefore was extraordinary. He appointed a personal trainer who knew zipp about Triathlon but was keen on strength and looking at the label she decided that to do an Ironman you need to be strong. As a result for 12 months Matt lifted weights and strained his body to exhaustion several times a week. He ‘looked’ at several videos on swimming ran a little but not much-‘you get injured running’was his view. The day he finished Ironman Vichy will stick in Liz and my minds for many reasons but watching Matt gallop over the finishing line was wonderful to watch. We had presided over his first swims in a wetsuit in various lakes but this was the first day he swam the full distance! His strength on the bike was a given and his run strategy was excellent. He would run 3 miles stop have a drink and something to eat, maybe walk a while then repeat.

A year later he had joined me in Copenhagen and was instrumental in ensuring my aged legs completed the course as he stayed with me and encouraged me in some of my darkest moments and dissuaded a medical official from pulling me out of the race by telling him I was fine.

However in his fortieth year Matt Collins was to take on the biggest challenge of them all Ironman Wales-The Dragon. Now Tenby is well known to the Collins family as they station their caravan there.As a result support for Matt was there a plenty with Aunts and Uncles swelling the family group all probably unaware of the enormity of the Ironman Challenge.

Tenby is so beautiful and on the morning of race day the seafront turns into a magical place. The 2500 racers queue up to get on to the beach and at 9 am sharp the sound of Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau (the welsh national anthem) blares out. The atmosphere is electric and the raw emotion so high that many openly weep-I certainly did. The racers filter down to the sea and we saw and greeted another friend who was racing and then there was Matt. Matt loves AC/DC and whilst I did not notice at the time Matt assures me one of his favourite songs ‘Highway to Hell’ was playing as he headed for the sea. The words somehow provoked a panic attack in him and fo a few agonising moments Matt considering turning round and going back leaving the frothing sea which was being churned up by the racers. He did not however and soon he was on his bike. Liz and I moved around the course and we saw Matt a number of times. Always upbeat always cheerful and happy to report on the alternative feeding strategy he had adopted involving mini pastors and the like. Matts logic was sound as he said he would not eat energy gels and the like whilst working hard as they would make him feel sick so why race on the things. He did his own thing and it worked.

Many will know the four lap run course around Tenby. It is fabulous as the crowds are huge. It fascinates me because you witness local people who clearly do not take exercise and probably know little of Triathlon imparting energy and strength to the racers with wonderful expressions of encouragement delivered in a Welsh accents. “Come on Matt make your family proud of you” I heard one woman cry .’Respect Matt, you have got this you look great’ another shouted. Each racer with hs or her name on their number belt were treated to such exhortations and as the laps moved on the most challenged received the greatest support. As an act of human behaviour, one to another, it is splendid, uplifting and joyous.

The finishing shute in Tenby is like all Ironman events a sea of sound, colour, baying crowds and raw emotion. The microchip embedded on each racers person flashes information on a giant screen announcing the name and time of a finisher. All racers are treated with equal reverence by the crowd and a fleet of commentators announce the words that mean so mush to each person who treads that hallowed carpet. John Smith, Jenny White “YOU ARE AN Ironman”. The commentators are all very good but on this night in Tenby a new voice was on duty when our ‘boy’ was due to enjoy his moment of glory. This man was very good as he played with the crowd and the lighting systems and dipped the volume as each racer approached the ‘carpet’ Inviting then to make a theatrical step on to the glorious final metres exhorting the crowd and flashing the lights and blaring the volume.

I know not what this man’s name was but presently he announced that he would be handing over but just as he did he saw that the next song on the playlist was one that ‘he personally loved’ and therefore he would stay for one more song. Thee lights were dimmed and the sound of AC/DC blared out ‘Highway to Hell’. Coincidence, fate, divine intervention who can say but what was to happen will stay in my mind for ever.

There at the end of the runway stood Matt Collins. His silver race suit reflecting some strobe lighting. Matt stopped raised his two hand heaven words and to an explosion of appreciation he began to dance. Matt is way over six feet tall and seeing this figure gyrate and swirl was just awe inspiring. The commentator, like everyone else fell silent and simply watched the show. I looked along the sea of faces and there was Barry, Matts Dad, his face a kind of ecstasy watching his sons performance. The dance, the jig, the twirl what it was I will never know but it was wonderful. The tears rolled down my face as Matt finished his ‘Gavotte’ and crossed the line a smile from ear to ear. The road going wild. Matt Collins ‘You are an Ironman’ the commentator found his voice.

Those moments will stay with me for ever not just because of the pure theatre of the event but because they represent so much more. How to deal with adversity, how to confront challenge how to dare your self and experience the joy it bring you if you succeed in really big challenge. One of the logos of the Ironman company is “Anything is Possible’. Matt Collins knows that sentiment is way more true than most will ever understand and for that reason and may others he will carry my admiration where ever he goes.