Ironman. One of those words that a niche sector of the population regard with majestic awe, while the rest have a vague awareness that it is a significant achievement, but without much understanding of what it actually is.For all the speculators out there, I'll tell you what it is. It's one of the toughest endurance events on the planet (this is patently an invite for criticism below the line), and involves a 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike ride, and a 26.2-mile run (yes, that's a marathon).Originating in the US, Ironman is now a huge global corporation with events taking place all over the world. This means that tourism can play off the back of what is becoming a sought-after status symbol – the countries that host Ironman challenges have an opportunity to show off their slick cities and resplendent natural geography in all their shining glory. Hence why Ironman UK takes place in the city of dreams – Bolton.A "complete punter" in triathlon terms at the beginning of 2012, to the extent that I couldn't actually swim front crawl, I soon became an addict – though admittedly it's a more wholesome (yet no less expensive) addiction than the drug-related kind. This spiralled until the obsessive fixation shifted on to one golden, glittering ambition – to become an Ironman.So, I signed up. Deep breaths. It's only a year of intense training, a funeral for my social life and a potential fatality on race day, no big deal. I got a coach, subscribed to the "I'm a boring triathlete with no social life and a one-dimensional conversation pattern revolving entirely around training" club, and dug deep. Very deep.It is no secret that triathlon is not exactly up there at the zenith of sporting media interest. Despite the Brownlees having raised the profile of triathlon, the female triathlon stars of Great Britain (of which there are many), remain about as clandestine as an MI5 probe.So imagine, then, what public interest endurance triathlon generates. Yep, about as much as a protest against the wearing of odd-coloured socks. Here's a statistic about Ironman triathletes: there are more men than women. Many more. In fact, the longer the distance of the triathlon race, the less women there are. Which is interesting as women generally possess better endurance faculties than men. (Sorry, it's true.)The average triathlete is male, aged 44-49, reflecting the rise and rise of the ubiquitous Mamils. Is there a male mid-life crisis epidemic out there? This isn't a deprecation of this particular demographic – it is a mere observation. To get back to my point, a 27-year-old woman in the world of long-distance triathlon is nothing short of a rarity.So, August, 2013. The big day arrived. The rain saturated Bolton. I was oblivious to the other 2,999 triathletes as I attempted to sink the temptation to run far, far away from this purgatory. Instead, I tentatively entered the water and began a fight for survival. I'm not even kidding.A "mass" swim start is accurately described by that otherwise overused word – epic. If you're among 3,000 people swimming along one invisible line towards a series of buoys, you are going to get battered. It's like doing seven rounds with Mike Tyson. You have to battle your way around the swim course. It's aggressive, you're going to get kicked, punched, semi-drowned, and possibly winded. One guy even got his arm dislocated. This war zone is most definitely "man terrain".If you survive that, it's on to the bike. If you've ever tried cycling for more than seven hours, on a course with over 5,500ft of hill climbing, without even stopping to relieve yourself (I'm sure you can work this one out without me going into face-scrunching detail), you should. It's like a long picnic on the bike. Eat, drink, pedal. Repeat. Man goes past me. Eat. Another man. Drink. And another. You get the picture; women are an endangered species in this brutal environment.I actually ran off the bike, much to the disbelief of a few men I passed who exclaimed that I was "showing off". Well, you know, every minute counts and all that. Next up: it's only a marathon. If you ever want to travel to dark physical and mental places, this would be a perfect holiday. By this time it's a case of blocking out every iota of resistance that your body is desperately trying to transmit: commonly known as "mind over matter". My strategy – DO NOT WALK.I ran past many, many men. Got too cocky on the bike, perhaps? Or more likely, there were 2,300 of them, so it was statistically inevitable. I completed my first Ironman in 13 hours and 18 minutes, and came 10th in my category. I was the 54th woman out of just 700 (bearing in mind there were 3,000 participants).In some ways, it is evident why this ruthless challenge is called Ironman. It's definitely a man's world out there, and it is sad that women are so under-represented in this growing sport. It takes guts to do something like that, and some serious guts if you're a woman.All I know is that whether you are male or female, putting yourself through something like that makes you human. Or, to the rest of the population, probably the complete opposite. I can live with that.(theguardian.com)ANN.Az