On March 2005 I watched my younger sister Lyndell complete her first Ironman. As she crossed the finish line I was in complete awe of her accomplishment and all I could think of was wow!!!, that night the decision to do my first Ironman was made – I was 120kg’s at the time and the thought of taking on an event of this magnitude completely scared the hell out of me.

On a wet cold day in May 2005 I began my Ironman training with my first run/walk of 20 minutes. I found myself gasping for breath and after 50m of running I felt like I was having a coronary. It soon became clear to me that I would be unable to complete my first run/walk - needless to say I went home bawling my eyes out thinking if I cant even cope with a 20 minute run/walk, how the hell was I going to manage a marathon!!!.

On my first cycle ride I found myself wobbling all over the road, precariously trying to maintain my balance whilst doing my best to avoid not getting hit by the cars and trucks that were constantly passing me.

The day that I mastered the art of clipping in and out of my pedals was a momentous occasion – it took me three weeks to learn. I celebrated even more with a rather excited email to my coach when I finally managed to ride 10km’s around the Auckland Airport Industrial Estate – it took me 2 months to get there.

I remember the first time I ever had to swim. I was so self conscious of being in swimming togs (something that I had not worn since I was 13 years old) that it took me 2 hours to muster up the courage to get myself into the pool and then a further 2 hours to get myself out !!

I remember doing my first Half Ironman in Taupo. I was the fourth to last person to finish the event but I was so absolutely overjoyed with just completing the event I really didn't care where I came in the race.

But time can be a good friend and slowly but surely the distances became longer, gasping for breath became less, speed improved and a new thing started happening - the compliments started flowing in thick and fast!!!!

Boy did those throw me into a tailspin - having spent a very long time trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible - a pretty impossible task when you weigh 120kg’s, to be suddenly thrust into the limelight with all those wonderful comments simply made me want to crawl under the nearest rock and hide. However, thanks to some sage advice from a business colleague I was told to "smile graciously and to say thank you" and so I did………however I still don’t think I will ever get use to it.

During my second year of training for Ironman I realised that I really needed to knuckle down and focus on the months ahead.

As a single, working Mum at the time the logistics of juggling my training with raising a young daughter was finally taking it’s toll on me so I made the hardest decision of my life – I decided to send my daughter to live with my parents in the Bay of Islands so that I could concentrate on the 14 months ahead. My heart broke the day I left my daughter with my parents and I cried for most of the return trip back to Auckland.

I found my size 26 frame slowly diminish in size - even though my grocery bill tripled!!!. The fact that I was losing weight whilst I ate like a horse just blew my mind and on my treat day I would eat that high caloried food with about as much gusto as Elvis with his jelly doughnuts and peanut butter sandwiches - with not a hint of guilt in sight.

Throughout my training I always had self doubt in my mind – could I finish the race? Would I meet the cutoff time? Had I prepared enough?. I found out just what I was made of when I attended a weekend training camp run by Cameron Brown (Ironman Extraordinaire and Multiple Ironman winner) and his manager Mark Watson.

The camp participants came from all over New Zealand and as I walked into the meeting room I eyed them all thinking “Dezma what the hell are you doing here – these guys look damm good”. It was a pretty full on weekend but I learnt so much from such a young and talented athlete. My biggest achievement during the weekend occurred on the Saturday when we were given the option of cycling the Ironman course – some were cycling 45km’s, some 90km’s – I bit the bullet and decided that I was going to cycle the full 180km’s.

We started our bike ride early Saturday morning, having already completed a 1 hour swim session previously. I prepared myself for a long day, got into the groove and started to focus on my cycling plan – drink every 10min, electrolytes every 15min and food every 20-30mins. Cycle, cycle, drink, drink, eat, eat on and on it went. At random points Cameron’s wife Jenny would stop to check on the camp participants. Every time I saw her I would be beaming, I think just seeing a familiar face helped me cope with the monotony of cycling. I would see others from the camp and wave and smile. My last lap back to Taupo was a slow and very tired one. We were meant to have dinner somewhere around 6.30pm and I was still out on the course cycling. Ten kilometers out Jenny Brown met me and introduced me to the world of jet planes and a nice cool drink – “bless your cotton socks I thought”. She told me that all the Camp participants were back in Taupo having dinner and Cameron said to take my time – I felt awful that I was so late. I eventually got back to the hotel after a 9hr 30 minute ride and feeling absolutely exhausted I had a shower and then sheepishly slinked in to the dinning room to the sound of mild applause. I was a bit embarassed and just thought “awe shucks thanks” look. I turned around to Cameron with a big beaming smile and all he said was “You’re still smiling Dezma” and I thought to myself “ Yep Dez you can do this” - and the doubt of whether I would finish Ironman was gone forever. I subsequently did the same ride the following weekend and completed it in 8 hours and 30 minutes.

After two years of training the day that I waited for finally dawned - 3rd of March 2007 – Ironman New Zealand.

All the sacrifices that I had made – both personal and financial in order to prepare for this race had finally come to an end and I felt ready.

I had spent the previous week in taper mode. The reduction in training was wonderful and I spent the lead up to Ironman just relaxing, hydrating and resting. The morning of Ironman I arose with not the slightest hint of nerves which I was kind of surprised about because I was half expecting to be throwing up into a paper bag for a good part of the morning.

A month earlier I had written a race plan for the entire week leading up to, during and after the race and I had executed that plan up to race day with the skills and precision of a well oiled machine. I had run through the plan so many times in my head that come race day I knew exactly what I would be doing for every minute of that day and I guess because I had rehearsed it so much I was quietly confident on the day.

The race start was magical and I entered the water early in order to get away from the many nervous Ironman first timers. I can keep a pretty focused head but standing next to individuals who are clearly “freaking out” doesn’t help the confidence and the head space.

I lay in the water going through my race plan and singing you are my sunshine - "Oh the calm before the storm" I thought.

The crowds on the waterfront were just absolutely amazing and it was truly an awesome sight to watch. In the water you could feel the anticipation and every individual around me remained quiet and focused. The canon went off to start the race and the thrashing of hands and feet in the water began – all I could think of at the time was “man I am swimming through one big toilet right now” - nerves has a tendency to do that to you.

Swimming is probably my strongest discipline – although I am not a fast swimmer. The first 10 minutes were spent vying for a space amongst the many competitors in the water, the rest of the time I spent getting into a rhythm and waiting for the swim to end.

I reached the swim exit point thinking “crikey I feel like crap, this isn’t good”. As I exited the water I saw my family yahooing and jumping about. How do you feel they asked? Great!!! I said when silently all I wanted to do was throw up and lie on the ground. I remained ill until I was 30km’s into the cycle leg.

Cycling…..if there ever was a sport that should be banned it should be this. I hate cycling with an absolute passion which isn’t a good thing when you have a 180km ride ahead of you. “Oh well”, I thought ..I might as well have some fun while I’am out here, so as riders passed me I would say Hi!! or How you going followed by a big cheesy smile?

The looks I received were just priceless. You could almost hear the athletes think “Why the hell is she so happy, she’s doing an Ironman and she’s coming almost last!!!!

The highlight of the cycle leg was on my return trip of the first cycle leg when Cameron Brown – the eventual winner of the race lapped me as he was completing his final cycle leg. I thought it was absolutely hilarious at the time and all I could say as he cruised on by was “Go Cameron”.

The next evening at the awards dinner I went up to Cameron and said “Do you remember lapping me yesterday”. His response was “Gees did I? Sorry!!!”…..his comment just made me laugh.

The final return cycle leg seemed to go on forever, there were no crowds and the roads were pretty much empty. My family - bless them were out in force giving me moral support. My friend Lauren Roche was behind me and so I told them to stick around in order to give her moral support as well. I knew I was 10km’s away and based on my cycling speed at the time I knew I would miss the cycle cutoff if I didn’t dig it in. My sister drove past and reiterated that fact “Dez dig it in mate” and so I did. I biked like I had never biked before and as I rode down Centennial Drive to head into town my family were at the corner to greet me.

There were yahoos and screams as I came flying down the hill. My Mum said I was riding like a women possessed. I reached the cycle transition at 5.10pm, I was so glad to reach the end. “Two down , I thought - one to go”.

Its somewhat demoralizing when you are about to start your run and you can here the commentator at the finish line shouting “Andrew Smith – You are an Ironman”. Many had finished their race and I was about to start the run. I donned my running gear and proceeded to cross the overbridge and head into town.

At the start of the run I actually felt good . I had lots of energy even though my legs were tired and as I began my run I started to do the math in my head – holy hell I’am not going to make cutoff!!! The tears started to well up inside of me. I deduced that based on my average running speed I would not complete the run leg in time to meet the Ironman cut off and for the first 5km’s of the race I was absolutely miserable and depressed – until I saw my daughter.

I had promised my daughter for the two years that I was training that she would get to run down the finishing chute with her Mum and that I would receive a medal for finishing. She was looking forward to the finish and I knew that I couldn’t give up because I had made a promise. Its amazing how much strength your children can give you when you need to dig deep – and so I did. I raised my head, lengthened my stride and changed my head space and for the remainder of the race my mantra was “Run fast, Stay Strong”.

Part of my racing attire was a cap with a pair of devils horns attached. I swear if you ever want spectator support wear something that really makes you stand out. People remember your name, your number and really uplift you throughout the race.

My intention was to be the “Little Devil” but I found that as the night progressed, more alcohol was consumed by the spectators and my name changed from “Go Little Devil” to “Go you Horny Little Devil” – I swear I haven’t been propositioned by so many men in all of my life.

I managed to maintain a constant running pace and only walked when I went up hills. I didn’t focus on the time, just on moving forward. God bless the person who invented Coke because that drink combined with water and electrolyte kept me going for the entire race.

Out on the course I encountered a man with a prosthetic leg and as he passed me to return home I said “Good on you mate”. Clearly in pain from the prosthetic leg that was obviously troubling him he managed to mutter “Thank you” and all I could think of at the time was “damm you are amazing”.

Time seemed to tick along quite nicely and before I knew it I was on the final leg home. I hadn’t looked at my watch since I started the race because I was just too dammed scared to, however, I fleetingly looked at the time – 10.00pm it said.

Now I know it’s against the rules but my sister had been quietly following behind me – of course from a distance that wouldn’t get me into trouble with the officials. She heard me quietly say “Oh my god, I’am gonna make it” , I Iooked back at her and her face was simply beaming.

My final lap back to town was amazing and the pain and tiredness that I was experiencing quickly subsided as I made my way back to the finishing line. My sister said that I talked a lot on the way back to the finish and she was wandering whether or not she should tell me to shut up because I was expending a lot of energy.

The run into town was just amazing. I could see the lights and hear the crowds and the excitement was just building up inside of me at an ever increasing pace. I ran, had a quiet cry to myself and then kept running again.

Now Ironman wouldn't be Ironman if it wasn't for the supporters and as I ran along the main street a group of young, very vocal and well costumed lads and lasses had dutifully formed a guard of honor and as athletes passed between them they would yell the athletes name and shake their poms poms in the air.

On your race number your name is printed and this group obviously had to find out the athletes name in order to yell it out to the masses. It was clearly my time to be part of the occasion.

A young, somewhat drunk lad run up to me. He took one look at my name and the look on his face said it all. I could see him thinking “How the hell do you pronounce that?” for fear of getting it wrong I guessed he went with the safer option and proceeded to ask “Whats your name”. I on the other hand pointed to my race number and he would look at me saying “Whats your name, Whats your name” and again I would point to my race number. I found the situation incredibly funny and I was thinking to myself “Mate, I’ve just completed around 226km’s today, I can barely walk – give me a break on trying to say something as well”. However, he was a persistent lad and I managed to puff out – “Dezma” - Mission accomplished he ran back to his crew and they all got the opportunity to yell….GOOOOOOOOO DEZMAAAAAAAA.

As I reached the beginning of the finishing chute all of my family and supporters were there to greet me. I was so grateful for them being there for they had endured just as long as a day as I had so they all looked pretty tired as well.

My plan was for my daughter and I to walk down the finishing chute but when I got there I thought – my plan has gone like clockwork throughout the day, time for me to make a change. I then turned to them and said “You have all been there for me today and I would appreciate it if you would accompany me down the finishing chute”. Well there were many comments ranging from “Hell no!!” to “How embarrassing”. I said one word “Please” .I guess the look on my face said it all and they began to prepare themselves for the walk towards the finish line - all following behind my daughter and I.

The walk down that finishing chute was the most exhilarating experience. There were crowds of yelling, smiling faces to greet my daughter and I as we quietly walked hand in hand down the chute. I was simply beaming with pride and I looked down to see my daughter staring at me in absolute awe. She had finally realized what her mother had achieved that day and I guess at that moment she was simply amazed – of course I proceeded to bawl my eyes out whilst thinking “Dezma crying is not in your race plan”.

As we walked along I spotted my Cystic Fibrosis buddy Amber and her Mum and I pulled them next to me so they too could experience the finish. For some reason I had a burst of energy and I proceeded to run down the chute giving high fives to everybody along the sideline and thanking them for their support.

Now I had visualized my race finish many times whilst out doing the long runs and rides. Such was the strength of my vision that I would feel the emotions and bring myself to tears. I wanted to finish so badly.

Those emotions arose within me again when I got to hear the words that I had waited to hear for such a long time - 5 metres from the finishing chute I heard the commentator say “and here she is all the way from Penrose Auckland - Dezma McGregor You are an Ironman”!!!!!

I walked across the finish line and into the arms of my sister who had first inspired me to embark on this amazing journey. I gave her a hug and simply said “I did it sis”.